Softball, Episode Three

OK, I know my last few posts have revolved around the fascinating world of Girl's Junior League softball. I'm sure there are many of you (3) who are anxiously awaiting my return to such meaty subjects as Paris' release from jail, Lindsay staying in rehab or the troubling rash of fathers killing their families. While all of these deserve my special brand of attention and will undoubtedly be covered, I need to write the final chapter of the softball odyssey. To neglect it would be like George Lucas not writing the final chapters of Star Wars. At least this won't be as long and feature a left fielder named Jar-Jar.

The game was going to be played "under the lights" and everyone was very excited. As I told you, I was going out for the day to make an appearance and leave "Daughter" in peace. As I was preparing for what ended up being an over two hour drive home, (another story), I blew a call into "Wife" to get the 411 on the home front and "Daughter's" mental state. Imagine my surprise when I was told that after swimming lessons that morning, "Daughter" had gotten the chills while out to lunch with my mom who had filled in for me as chauffeur for the day. "Daughter" was running a fever that was fluctuating between 99.5 (nothing) and 102.3 (wow, that's hot). My sources told me that she had been sleeping all afternoon and was adamant about playing in the game. I threw my very helpful two cents into the ring, "Let's see how she feels." I should have been a doctor.

I got home before game time to find a glassy eyed and delirious "Daughter" laying on the couch and talking in the fever induced, whiny voice that usually accompanies illness. She was still saying she wanted to play. At that point her fever was 100. "Wife" and I decided that we would allow her to play, but tell the coach what was up. I didn't want the fact that I had kept her out of a championship game to be hanging over my head for the rest of my life. She'll have enough things to blame me for. I then had to have a pep talk with our little Carlton Fisk. "The team is counting on you," I said earnestly. "If you go, you have to suck it up for two hours. I know you feel lousy, but if you play, you have to go all out." Yes, I said this with a straight face, knowing that if it was me, I would be demanding sponge baths and moaning like wounded walrus.

We got "Daughter" to the field and explained the situation to her coach. He said he'd watch her and if she had to come out, he'd take her out. He was confident in the team's chances, so he didn't seem to worried.While the team took batting and fielding practice, the coach had "Daughter" sit off to the side and relax. She did take some batting practice because, according to her, "I wanted to see if I could still hit." She could. The game ended up being a rout. It was called after four innings due to the "slaughter rule". The Gray Team had stomped the competition fifteen to nothing. "Daughter" had a great game. despite her delirium, she caught an excellent game and went two for two at the plate. She even seemed to run faster. Her coaches all said that she should get a fever before every game.

The girls all got huge trophies. There was a lot of cheering and pride both from the girls and the parents. It was truly a nice moment. it's very rare that you get to win a championship. I'm glad "Daughter" got the opportunity to know the feeling. i took her aside when we got home and told her how proud I was, not because she won, but because she showed so much heart by playing sick and elevating her game. It showed a lot of heart. Tonight, weather permitting, she's playing in the "All-Star Game". I'd tell you about it, but the saga ends here. Later...Brian