a document of days

I did a most unexpected thing on Saturday; I watched Little League.  It was the most beautiful day --- blue skies, 85 degrees.  As I walked toward the park I was secretly hoping to see a game, so I was quite happy to hear a small crowd cheer at the crack of ball-against-bat. I took my seat and watched the 'Orioles' play the 'Yankees.'

The players were so cute. They seemed to be between the ages of 10 and 12.  Some children were very tall, while others so tiny. The players ranged from the competitive and hot-tempered kids, quick to shout commands to the less experienced players, to the meek and mild-mannered kids who would likely rather be home reading.

Two players were hit with pitches. One in the head.  His helmet was knocked right off of his head. His first instinct was to cry. His face scrunched up, you could see he was in pain. But he immediately thought better of the tears and tried to tough it out.  Then, all of the coaches surrounded him and his face scrunched up again.  In the end, he fought off the pain and surprise of getting hit in the head and he took position at first base.  Watching this I realized that I was fighting  back the tears too!