Do your best

Tonight was my middle son's baseball evaluations. He is trying to play up a division (to the first level of kid-pitch) because his birthday is so close to the cut-off date. I really hope he makes it -- he's already had two seasons of T-ball and a season of coach-pitch) and he's in 3rd grade and most of his friends are already in the division he's trying out for.

Originally I thought all the eight-year-olds who wanted to could play up, but then I learned that there were a limited number of spots. I spoke to one of the dads in the beginning of the "try outs" and we agreed it was a lot of pressure for young kids.

My sons and I talked about this on the way over to the school where the evaluations were held. I told my middle son, "I know you're a good baseball player, and I am sure you'd do fine in D1, but there are only so many spots. There may be a lot of other good players, too..."

"Did you hear that, honey?" I said to my oldest who had his nose in a book. "The same goes for you. You did great last night, and at the same time, you were one of the youngest kids there. Some kids at your evaluations were 12." I had also exchanged emails today with his division coordinator and the bit about how you didn't finish the season last year came up (he had broken his arm).

"Awwww! I really wanted to play in this division." (I was actually imagining both boys on the same team -- this would be my dream come true!)

"I know, honey, I haven't heard either way yet. I'm just letting you know, there's a possibility that because of the population that tried out, you might not. It wouldn't be a bad thing; I am sure there are other kids you know playing at this level."

"I stink," he moped and slumped in his seat.

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course you don't stink. You did your best. You did a good job. Just leave it in God's hands." (We had actually put it in God's hands prior to the evaluations when we prayed, and we did the same tonight for my middle son.)

We were early for evaluations tonight and my son took his assigned pinny and joined a mob of kids who were throwing a ball back and forth. It didn't look like there was any rhyme or reason to this game, but I am sure there is because I have seen kids do this with footballs, too.

They did all the same drills as my oldest did last night, except for the baserunning. I followed my son around from station to station, sometimes with my other two by my side, and sometimes not (depending upon if they were running around with the sibling club). I am fairly certain my middle son was happy that I was watching, because he checked to be sure I was from time to time. Yes, I see you, I indicated with a thumbs up or a wave. It reminded me of basketball season when he wanted me to actually watch his practice, even though he is old enough to be dropped off while I run to the supermarket. So, I would spend the hour watching, as I did tonight. I am sure it won't be long before he prefers me to watch from a distance, and then maybe not at all.

When we were done and on the way to Boy Scouts, he said, "Mom, I think I made it!"

I told him, "Well, you never know. We didn't see how everyone else did. But you did a good job. You did your best. That's the most important thing. Let's leave it in God's hands."