I see you’re about to sign your boy up for Little League, so I feel I should warn you.
You’re about to sign up for more than endless sun-beaten hours, sitting on rickety old bleachers at a dust-swept ball field.
You’re also signing up for awkward first encounters with new parents.
For a backseat full of competitively rowdy (and stinky) boys.
For a pretty penny in shiny new equipment.
And for a lifetime supply of OxiClean with a membership to the “where the hell did you leave your jersey” club.
But mama, I also feel I should give you fair warning.
You’re signing up for those new parents to become a family like no other.
For those boys to become beloved sons that you root for as loud as your own.
For that tiny glove to become your most prized trophy.
For that dirty little uniform to become a precious keepsake.
And for those fleeting hours on well-loved bleachers, to become sun-drenched memories that last a lifetime.
So, while you’re about to sign your boy up for Little League, I’ll warn you.
You’re signing up to play a part in one of the greatest games.
You’re about to become a baseball mom.
You’re about to fall in love.
And Mama… One more warning.
Years from today, you’ll look at the new moms signing up their little boys. And you’ll see them the way I see you now. With sympathy for their trials, but more so, with envy for all of the triumphs yet to come.