Hunter at the bat

Before Hunter was born I remember everyone heckling me - or rather, being as mean as they possibly could for no reason, as if I had kicked their dog or something- by saying things like: what if Hunter doesn't grow up to like sports?

Ah, yes. What if?

The first real glimpse I got of his possible indoctrination, er, introduction, to team sports was during the dark period of my life I like to call, "the last time I coached soccer for Stuart Hall High School". Because of the amount of hours I would be gone from the house, on occasion Heather would bring Hunter to my soccer games. The first time I remember this happening was at the Polo Fields in San Francisco. It is difficult to convey the spaciousness of this ancient "coliseum" but there is enough room for 8 regulation soccer fields, with room to spare.

So at one point during a game I look up and see Heather pushing Hunter in his red BOB stroller at the field nearest mine. Next thing, I look up and I see Hunter pushing the stroller in some far away land, a little red dot on the green horizon, like the back of an airplane flying through the sky. He was maybe 10 months old but I could already see him in that high school game.

My memory is that the next day, for the first time, he was dribbling the soccer ball "better than players on my team" according to Rayne Droplet. Sadly, I agreed. He was running and dribbling the ball, perfectly. And kicking. Kicking. Always kicking. Still kicking. It had to be just from watching the players on that field that day.

Now I am coaching baseball. Much closer to home. Much better environment. And Hunter is at many more games. I have told this story now so many times, and it gets better every time.

The day after he came to his first game, we were in Target, as usual. And we went down the aisle where they have to toy baseball sets, so I could see what might be in Hunter's future. Someday.

Well no sooner are we on the aisle when I hear Hunter saying, well excitedly screaming really, BALLBALL! I followed his index finger pointing straight at the real hard ball. So I manage to find a safe ball and bat for him and turn to set off down the aisle, when I hear it again. BALLBALL!! Following his direction again, I see he has identified a box with a kid on the front hitting the ball off a tee. And I see, ages 4 and up. Hunter is 16 months at the time. Maybe 15. I try to tell him he is too young and we'll get him one later but he plays on my pride and forces me to get him out of his cart so he can try. I still don't want to buy this thing if he won't/can't use it so I fashion a small box on the ground and set a ball on top to show him how to use it. Before I can lean over- WHACK!!

<- (Please note in the picture, while he is not hitting the ball per se, that is a real bat and real tee.)

The ball went sailing down the into the baby food section. It was not so much a turn but more of a whiplash motion as I go to see from how far the ball went to where it came from.

And there was Hunter, bat on his shoulder. Pointing. Ball Ball, he said calmly pointing into the Gerber food section off into the distance. I darted my head around to see who or what had seen the hit or what would happen to us. So I grabbed a tee set and headed home.

On the way I called Heather to tell her what happened and at first it was her normal reaction to my excitement. Calm down you are way over exaggerating, what REALLY happened? All I had to do was to set up the tee to show her.

There he was, butt down, legs spread, bat on the shoulder, hands in perfect position on the bat. WHACK. I was already in Little League when I learned all that, and had to be shown. Not Hunter. WHACK. And he goes to get the ball, like the little red dot he was on the soccer field, off in the distance. It was Heather who said, I think this was what Tiger Woods' dad must have felt like!

<-(This picture, taken at Pac Bell when Hunter was maybe 11 months, should have been an indication. Perfect form already!)

It is both sad and incredibly wonderful that he is already a better athlete than I ever was. Varsity sports, and running medals be-damned.

I wonder, then, what if he doesn't like sports? He is a little mimic.

So will he enjoy reading, working on the computer, gardening, cooking? He sees us doing these things all day.

And I see him, bat on the the shoulder, little butt down. Whack! Ballball Daddy, Ballball.

Below is the link to the first video of Hunter at the bat: