Lincoln's Debut

Yesterday was Lincoln's debut in the big leagues. He was drafted into the majors this year which means he plays on a team of mostly 11 and twelve year olds.

A year or two might not seem like a big difference, but to a ten year old lightweight, it is.

When he came home from school, he was a nervous wreck.

"I just don't think I can hit off a twelve year old" he cried.
"I'll let my team down" he sobbed.
"I'm scared" he bravely admitted.

"You can do it, Linc!" Rachel and I chanted.
"You'll do great!" Mark cheered.

Lincoln swallowed a Pepto pill and we left for the game.

The other team's coach headed toward the mound. I had to look twice.

WAIT A MINUTE! I silently screamed. THAT IS NO COACH! It was a 6 foot tall 12 year old.

YIKES! I wanted to see proof of age, this was clearly an impostor. I cringed as Linc's turn in the batting order approached.

He put on his helmet and took his place in the box. He looked determined, I was nervous and proud at the same time.

This is the point in the story that I wish I could report that Lincoln smashed a line drive straight to left field.

I would love to say that he hit the winning run and put that big bruiser in his place.

But that is not how it happened.

The very first pitch the kid threw hit Lincoln hard in the back. Yep, beaned him square in the kidney area.

The crowd groaned and I nearly lost the panini I ate for lunch.

Lincoln bit his lip and tried to hold back the tears as he took his base.

I wanted to scale the fence and give that guy a piece of my mind.

Lincoln swears that if you look close you can see the stitch marks of the ball imprinted on his back. Mark differs with that report.

That was our initiation to the big leagues.

I miss T-Ball.