Don't Play Games With Me

Don’t play games with me.

Literally. 

While I also don’t play relationship games, board games make me want to scream and tear my hair out.  I hate them.  Really, really hate them. 

I like puzzles and games I can play by myself, against myself, trying to outdo myself.  As a matter of fact, I can find myself playing Solitaire for hours, just trying to beat my own score.  I can tolerate trivia games because I just like to see if I can get the answer right.  But your ordinary, run-of-the-mill board game, I will find any excuse not to play them.

I am an introvert, and always have been.  I enjoy my own company.  When I was a child, I would have much rather been sitting up in the tree in the front yard reading a book than anything else.  Unfortunately, my parents felt that they must socialize me and would force me to play board games with the family.  The sight of a Candy Land box still gives me nightmares.

And so of course I gave birth to the most competitive child on the face of the earth.  He can make a game out of anything, but he holds a very special place in his heart for those evil board games.  I bought him a pinball-type baseball game for Christmas figuring he could play it by himself, but no, he has “scheduled” an entire season of games, brackets and all, with my husband and me being the other teams.  I did not sign up for this league, which I am pretty sure is called the “League From Hell,” because you are not allowed to forfeit and rescheduling for any time other than “Ok, mom, I want to play right now” is almost impossible.

Somehow I managed to convince Aiden to delay my scheduled Sunday game against him because I wanted to watch the Grammy Awards, and then I managed to delay it a couple of more days because I was sick.  Tonight, however, as I was cleaning the kitchen, I heard “Ok, mom, it’s time!”  The fact that I needed to finish cleaning, pack lunches, and do laundry made no difference, though I did manage to finagle a 3-inning game rather than the usual 6 by refusing to cut and peel his mango otherwise.

So, thinking I was being smart, I asked to bat first.  I figured that would at least get me down another half inning because he would be beating me and there would be no need to bat.  God, probably convinced by my mother, had obviously decided I needed to play games with my child though because I managed , as hard as I tried to just strike out every at-bat, to score a run in that third inning and tie the game, so on it went.  I’m beginning to think that schedule will make good kindle for the fireplace.

And that’s why they have wine.  Time to finish the laundry and have a glass. 

Cheers! Oh, Wait, What Just Happened In The Game?

My son has played baseball since he was 6.  (Well, organized baseball, we won’t go into how many wiffle balls he hit out into oncoming traffic off a 5-gallon water bottle tee from the backyard prior to that.)  Baseball is his obsession, it is what his life revolves around.  He even has a special place in his brain for stats:  stats of his own team, stats of the Tampa Bay Rays, stats of players I’ve never heard of….ask him anything and you’ll get way more information than you really want to sit and listen to.

We are not unfamiliar with the travel ball circuit.  He briefly played on a travel team when he was 8, he’s filled in as a guest player on teams, he’s been invited to try out on a few over the years.  We’ve seen enough to see the good and the bad.  Sadly, a lot of what we’ve seen just would not be right for our family.  Winning at all costs.  Coaches belittling their players.  Parents insulting the opposing team’s kids. Parents insulting their own team’s kids.  Teams that have vastly different rosters season to season because the parents don’t think their obvious superstar is being treated with the priority status he should have.  A team full of kids who wished they were anywhere but playing baseball.

Yes, coaches need to not coddle their players.  Yes, we all want our children to do well.  Yes, it is great when the team wins.  And yes, some kids do play better than others and ALL of them mess up at some point.  The thing is, when it all comes down to it, this is an activity our children should enjoy, and the parents should be able to enjoy being at the games.  If my family is going to spend most weekends, some of those in a hotel away from home, playing and watching baseball, I don’t want it to be a chore for anyone.

I really realized this weekend we made a good choice in the team my son tried out for and is now playing with.  They don’t win every game, they are not the superstars of the area, they aren’t listed on any top-ranked lists, and they can make some pretty bad errors.  However, I have never seen a team of kids get along so well, support each other, and have as much fun.  And, honestly, sometimes as parent we are having so much fun joking with each other about the game, our kids, each other, or even (gasp!) talking about something non-game related that we don’t see the biggest play of the game.  I like it that way.  My kid is a KID, and if baseball is no longer fun, he won’t be playing it.  I am grateful for a team that he can have that fun on, and that I can too.

I love our baseball family, and for that I raise a toast.  That’s why they have wine!