One field was double booked, so a game was out of the question. Another team's coach suggested "let's just set up skills stations- one at home plate, one in RF, one in CF and one in LF". Coaches and the parents deemed as "helpers" all agreed this would be the best course of action.

Four teams of relentless 4 and 5 years old and one baseball diamond. This was going to be fun.

Our team (blue and white) started at home plate with the kids hitting off the tee and running the bases. My job as "helper" was to coach first base. I love coaching the bases. Giving the kids high fives and saying "nice hit" and reminding them they need to run to the next base when the ball is hit. My duties also entail keeping an eye on Izzy. My daughter is a bit of an independent spirit and is not always keen on following her coaches' instructions. She is certainly not the only one but I know my daughter well, and parallel to the first base bag is a great vantage point for me. I did have to leave my post at one point to corral her back into line and take her bat away from her before she took another kid's head off. This led to a bit of a baserunning calamity as my base runner failed to advance to second while the batter barreled toward first. Having wrestled the bat away from Izzy I hurried back to my post yelling "run to second". This was not specific enough and both runners took off toward second. I glanced at our team's coach, shrugged my shoulders and he gave me the "many such cases" laugh.

Time for a water break and to move to the next station.

The kiddos grabbed their gloves and rushed out to RF. Izzy said "do I bring my bat". I replied, "You are going to be hitting and fielding ground balls, so leave your bat with me and I will give it to you when you need it". My new role was bat boy. I accepted my role and leaned back against the fence in RF and watch the kids hit and field ground balls. Izzy spent most of the time talking with one of her teammates and trying to pick "flowers" (weeds) out of the grass. She did get to hit a couple times and fielded one ball nicely. She is improving and plays well when she feels like it.

Another water break and onto the next station the kids go.

The kids moved to CF to practice their throwing. I returned to the bench and sat down to watch from a distance. Izzy is good at throwing the ball and likes doing this station so I didn't feel the need to tag along. I sat in the dugout. A kid from another team came into the dugout looking for his glove. I tried to assist him in finding it but no luck. I told him he likely left it somewhere in the outfield at one of the stations. In the end his coach sorted it out and found another kid had picked it up and was using it. I continued to watch as Izzy and her team moved on to LF to play a little bit of catch. At one point Izzy dove into the ground after a ball that was well past her. Likely a result of my comment a couple weeks ago about "earning your dirt". Good effort kiddo but we need to work on the execution.

As the clock struck 6pm a tidal wave of small humanity rushed towards me. I grabbed Izzy's bat, helmet and water bottle and squeezed out of the dugout as the stampede rushed in. Izzy walked casually back talking to a teammate and her coach. She is not in a rush, she knows I am not in a rush. Everyone else is. Parents have to get their kids home and fed and bathed so they themselves can prepare to rest and rise for another work day. Izzy's coached hurriedly handed out freezies as kids flew in every which direction. I sat back down on the bench and Izzy nestled beside me enjoying her freezie. Did you have fun? I asked. She nodded yes, still focused on her prize of frozen pink sugar water.

I peered out at a now empty diamond and thought "I love baseball". A life long love passed down to me from my father's own love affair with the sport. When I was growing up my mom had a small decorative sign hanging in our dining room that said "we now interrupt this marriage to bring you the baseball season". I thought of this sign as my eyes scanned along the white chalk lines of the dirt infield, into the outfield toward the fence. It's a full sized field, so it was plenty large enough to accommodate 40 little ones. Even at my peak, as a young man playing ball, I probably couldn't hit the ball over that fence. In all my years of playing baseball I only hit a homerun over the fence once in a game. In a moment of middle aged arrogance though I convinced myself I might be able to do it now. I snapped myself out of it and recalled around 15 years ago while visiting my parents I had come to this field with my dad to try that exact thing and I am not sure I even came within 30ft of the fence.

I snapped out of my daze to see Izzy staring at me. Her cute little face covered in a mix of sweat, dirt and sticky freezie juice. I wiped her face with a small towel. Everyone else was gone. Just another activity checked off the list for the day for them. This means much more to me. My son used to play ball with me when he was younger. I was training him to be a stud left handed pitcher, maybe the next Kershaw, but he never got into the game the way I did as a kid and I wasn't going to force my passion upon him. From experience, I have learned that it is not wise to assume I will have many years on ball diamonds with Izzy. Who knows where her passions will lie in the future, so I am relishing the moments while I have them.

I asked Izzy "do you want to go home or stay and play for awhile"? She said "I want to hit the ball". So we stayed. I had one badly beaten up tball ball that I found in the dugout earlier and set aside for this exact scenario. The entire diamond was ours. I tossed underhand to her and chased the ball after every miss and hit for about 15 minutes until some older kids showed up. They came armed with bats, a bag of balls, gloves and their cleats. I know this formation well. One to pitch, one to hit, one to chase. They will take turns and give their best effort to try to conquer that fence around 300ft away. They will fail. They are still too young.

I told Izzy "5 more, the big kids want the field". "Can we play with them" she asked. "No baby, not yet". We finished up and grabbed all our stuff. "Izzy do you want to go home or do you want to watch the boys try to hit a homerun". "Can we sit on the big benches" she replied and I had my answer. We moved from the field and into the grandstands and watched and the boys took swing after swing. They were all very good hitters but none came close to conquering that fence. One of the boys was opening up his front side and hitting the ball off the end of the bat. I kept my critique to myself and marveled at Izzy marveling at the "big hits" the boys were getting. We stayed for another 30 minutes watching, chatting, amidst the sun, dirt and crack of the bat.

Thanks for reading.

Sats for all, GR