Baseball is not a part of the British sporting culture, tennis yes, cricket yes, baseball…non. But as the sound of leather on willow is slightly lacking on the local sporting landscape I thought I would invest in a few baseball accoutrements for Huwyl’s back garden pleasure. I bought a T-ball set and a ball and glove for him to play with, I wasn’t expecting him to fall in love with it so quickly.
That glove has been frequently on his hand both outside and in. It has dawned on me over the last few weeks, that my little boy is not so little anymore. The length of his limbs, his co ordination, his interest in learning are all changing too quickly for me to keep up. It hits me time and time again, he is a real boy.
Watching the joy and concentration on his face, mingled together in one moment, brings me into one of those odd moments of clarity. I made this person, but he is independent of me. He is growing and changing and learning right before my eyes. It is up to me to help him find his passions, the things that will inspire him; it is up to me to stand back and let him find his way in the world.
I don’t know anything about baseball, or being a boy for that matter, but if he loves it I know that I’ll love it too.