Cold Case In Ellyson

It’s too early for sping, but the weather here in Florida this week is, well, more representative of how the weather SHOULD be in Florida. And with the onset of warmth in the air comes clay on the cleat. Major league spring training starts in the next few days, but for my boys, after six weeks of practice, their season is about to start.

I always start the season with joy and optimism. It is, after all, maybe my most favorite pasttime. Love grey double knit pants, long socks and worn red seams. Love watching those “are you kidding me” plays that you have the rare pleasure of seeing from time to time. And for months, I’ve loved hearing how my sons talk about the great pitches or timely hits, even if they’re not their own. But starting today, I get to be a witness to all the talk. It’s just a scrimmage, I know, but we go in with high ideals and hopeful swings. We, the parents, coaches and the 14-year old players, get to see just how they perform in the presence of strangers. I expect glimmers of greatness scattered among errors and miscues. It’s early, and they’re just beginning. And just like spring, their roots are strengthening for the powerful blooms lurking just beneath the soon-to-be green grass.