Baseball and the Big O

Everything the Big O does is big.  He lives in the land of extremities.  If he laughs it's going to be a really, loud, goofy laugh.  If he throws a fit, stand back.  It will be a whopper.  If he wants to give you a hug, watch out--he'll probably knock you down.  If he sings, turn up the radio if you were hoping to hear the song and not him.  He plays hard, lives hard, feels hard.  That's just the way he is.

We, as parents, wondered how baseball would play out with him.  We knew it could potentially be a disaster...or it could be a complete joy.  There was no way of knowing; we'd just have to risk it.  One thing we could guarantee, though--he would do things completely different then any of our other kids.  He would put his own off-kiltered twist on things, thus earning a few more badges on his nickname:  the 'O Factor'.

So the O Factor had some choice moments on the field, for sure.  Like the time when he ran off and on the field three separate times in one inning, straight to his momma to share something (in a really loud voice):

'Mom, is Miss Wite here yet?  When she gonna get here?' 

'Mom, I am weally sorry I pooped in my pants earlier.  I am weally, weally sorry Mom.'  (ummm, thanks for the confession.  Such pristine timing.  Really.)

 'Mom, can I have a piece of dat bubba bum (translated bubble gum)?'

The other proud moment was when he danced around and did a little jig in the outfield for five whole minutes.  Yes, that was mighty fine.  I believe this coincided with when he told us that he no longer liked the 'baseball ready' position and wouldn't be doing it anymore.

Then there was his last game when he got called out at third.  Coach Dave was standing at third and said, 'You're out O--go sit down.'  I held my breath and waited to see what he would do.  He had never been called out before.  And his biggest thrill each game was sliding into home.  I watched his face and saw his mouth cock up slightly on one side as he processed this.  He took two steps towards the bench and I started to breathe a sigh of relief, but then caught my breath again when he whipped himself around and put himself back on third.  I guess he thought Coach Dave might not notice.  However, Coach Dave immediately said, 'You're out O--go sit down', once again removing him from the base and pointing him towards the bench. 

Finally realizing Coach Dave meant business, he went and sat down.  Phew--my tense shoulders could finally relax.  Of course, he had to rehash the story to all of his teammates.  But since his speech impediment is slightly serious, no one understood a word he was saying.

After the final game, Coach Dave did a little presentation, giving each player a game ball and their 'end of the season' trophy. The Big O walked up, received his trophy and then swaggert and strutted he did, all the way to his seat. O-ee-O the overly confident showboat...such proud parents we are.

All in all, aside from the outfield jigs, the running on and off the field to discuss his bowel movements, consistently losing his hat on game days, and the 'near-fit' misses, I would say that it was a pretty successful first season.  Yes, I think next year we will once again be chanting for all to hear:

'TWINS, TWINS, TWINS!'