Fast forward 8 years and so far I have helped my husband to coach one season of soccer and three season of t-ball, all on a SATURDAY. OH, and did I fail to mention, I also decided it would be a great idea to start a baseball club from the ground up? All you non-parents out there - let those confident proclamations of yours be a lesson to you - They may just turn around and bite ya in the behind.
Eighteen months ago, I had an "IDEA". It was one of those amazing light bulb popping moments where the possibilities were endless and Angels could probably be heard singing somewhere and light shone down illuminating my face as I proclaimed this glorious idea from my mouth. (I get these ideas on a fairly regular basis - this occurrence probably happens to me at least once a day). The difference with this idea was that my husband happened to be sitting next to me at the time when I announced this idea and LOVED it. From that moment, the birth of Tauranga City Baseball began.
The difference between my husband and I is that I may have A LOT of ideas but practically zero follow through on any of them. My husband on the other hand is like a badger who when he gets his teeth sunk into something there is no letting go. Starting a club from the ground up is hard work and there is no way that we would have been able to do it without the help of a dedicated team. There were many times I certainly wanted to give up, overwhelmed by the task at hand but there was always one thing that stopped me: We were part of something big: We were bringing baseball to a region in New Zealand that has never had it before.
To me, baseball is one of the greatest sports ever invented. I can still picture sights, sounds and smells of the great American Ball Parks from my childhood. The beautiful grounds laid out before you, the fans cheering as their favourite player smashed a home run out of the park and the smell of hotdogs, beer and nachos. My greatest memory of baseball was in 1991 when the Minnesota Twins played the Atlanta Braves in game 6 of the World Series where Kirby Puckett made an amazing catch in the outfield and had two home runs. The Twins then went on to win game 7, winning the World Series for that year. My mum was overseas at the time and dad would let me stay up late to watch the games while the other kids slept. This time of my life was one of my best ever memories as a kid, where I felt connected to my dad (a little girls hero) through this amazing sport.
Now, my kids are growing older and the great movies like The Sandlot and playing catch in the back yard with dad, have instilled in them the same sort of love that I have for the game. Each time my child stands up at the bat and has their chance against a batter is a teachable moment. They may strike out, they may get out at base after hitting the ball or they may hit that one ball that gets them from base to base where they experience that exhilarating moment of a home-run. With every game, that kid gets their moment to shine and with every game they are still part of a team, working together to bring home a win.
I now get why parents stand on the sidelines every Saturday, sometimes in the rain and the cold and why they put their hand up to volunteer to coach or to manage their kids team or to even be crazy enough to start a sport that has never been there. Sports create in kids confidence, team work and help them to understand the bigger mysteries of life.
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