Het was de beste dag van mijn leven.
It was the best day of my life.
My dad and I were saying that this level where the kids now pitched (instead of tee-ball or coach pitching) just wasn’t working. Kids were throwing the ball actually behind the batters and there’s some rule where if the pitcher walks 4 (or 5) batters in a row, then a new pitcher starts. Then that pitcher walked 4 batters. Now the score is who-knows-what-to-zero and no one really cares anyway. Well, except the kids.
While my dad and I were saying that the game was just a bunch of walks and errors and the occasional hit, the kids were loving every single dusty minute in the sun. We didn’t mention any of our league-level strategic changes to the kids when the game was over and congratulated them on a good game and asked how it went. “It was a great game,” he said, beaming with delight. Not a mention of 27 walks and 14 strikeouts, countless runners (walkers, really) just rounding bases after pitches going everywhere from triple bounces before the plate to behind batters to over the head of the catcher. No mention of much anything other than how excited they were about their first baseball game ever.
It might be their first season, it might also be their last. They might never remember this day (well, other than my writing about it today to seal it in the annals of history for eternity) or they might remember it forever. Who knows. Who cares. We also won’t know for some time. But there’s no rush. Today it was the best day in my son’s life. Yes, he says this occasionally, but not abusing the superlative. I might also say that his short life has only been eight years, so on the grander, mathematical, scale, it’s not the same as someone who’s had decades of experiences, but again, it’s not a math equation, it’s not even a word problem. It’s not the words, it’s certainly not a problem. It’s not even something to analyze. Just note, breathe in, breathe out, and let this be the best day of his life.