Left Field

I'm a klutz.

Imagine my surprise when our son turned out to be athletically competent. Robyn and I looked at each other and shrugged.

Walker wanted to play competetive basketball, and he was a pretty good guard at the time, but it seemed like the only way to get on a team was to have me start one and be the coach.

I'm a klutz. Assistant coaching, perhaps. No team starting.

One day Walker came home with a try-out flyer for a team called the Swisher Swat. He went and had so much fun he went back and tried out again. The Swisher field is at the end of a city park, wrapped in corn. They did drills and learned skills. Walker was hooked. He didn't join the Swat, but was invited to play with a unit called the Prairie Baseball Club.

Walker didn't know much about baseball when he started. He worked hard to learn the minute stuff that you have to know when you play ball. There's the play where you're on 2nd and the center fielder sneaks up and tags when you lead off and you're picked off! There are a hundred things to look for, to remember.

Walker is hitting really well these days. His muscles remember routine plays. He's turned into a good, hustling outfielder with aspirations of second basemanship. He plays well with others.

Cool July summer evenings, sitting in lawn chairs, holding popsicles and ice cream bars, we stand at home with bats poised, looking dangerously intent, each of us.

We stand in left field imagining what we will do when the ball comes.

It always comes. Think about what you're going to do.