The Secret of Life

Spring was a nice time to be a mom in the Buckhead Baseball world, and during what I now know were brief and passing years, it was a big deal for a boy to land an All Star spot. While William loved the whole team thing better than anybody and was glad to hold down his place in the outfield during the regular season, he didn't see the lofty All Star heights. It didn't matter, though; we knew almost everyone else from his league who rose to that realm, and the annual announcement always ensured intriguing parent chitchat for a couple of good weeks. 

Amongst this honored group was an amiable and busy boy called Will. We were fortunate to live on a trail that merged with that of Will and his family for the Atlanta growing up years, starting with preschool and meandering all through church and sports until the day we moved. A boy who never had the time or inclination to entertain a bad day, Will carried himself with easy confidence and a "What, me worry?" demeanor. No one appreciated having fun more than he did, and I always said Will never started mischief but he didn't mind joining in. 

And Will also happened to be a sturdy all around baseball player, bringing with him a daddy who enjoyed dabbling in coaching, a cute little brother and a perpetually stylish and vivacious mom who was a huge part of bleacher good fellowship. They were the perfect family amongst many who became friends in the stands, all courtesy of baseball. 

Will was always ready to play and eager to do his part for team success, but he also balanced it out by being a showcase of leaving it on the field. When we went into the kid-pitch leagues, he was a study in wonder. His strong arm served him well on the mound, and while other boys got flustered with bases loaded, Will could keep on pitching without a worry in the world.

One All Star season fielded an exceptionally strong team who played through the month of June with success. The team was stacked with talent, comprised of strong and intensely competitive players who took winning very seriously. In the regular season, dugout tears were scattered here and there amongst the teams, but during All-Star time they could reach critical mass. 

As June wound down, there was a big game destined to be the crown jewel of post season play and, in the end, the Buckhead team came up short. The boys were inconsolable in loss, heading to the dugout wiping away tears and pulling caps low over their faces. As he packed his equipment and got ready to move on to something else, Will surveyed the gloom and doom surrounding him in the sobbing dugout and brightly said, "Why is everybody crying? Let's go to the snack bar!" 

~~~~~

Will and the All Star boys are now 19 years old, scattered in colleges all over the place, and I still love this little story. I always remember it with a laugh and great affection for Will, his family, and for having this enduring takeaway from one moment in little league days. So many things then were big deals that really were not, and somehow I had the wrong idea about that sweet time in life being endless. 

But lately it dawned on me that this story is a nice metaphor to keep in mind when things don't go exactly the way I wish in life. Disappointments come and go with the seasons, and the temptation to wallow is always beckoning. But I look around and see the same great people who have always been there, new friends who are welcome, and lots of interesting new places joining all the old. The truth is I can be thankful for having way much more than I deserve, and so I really should be at the snack bar, right about now and always. 

The grown up version