Over the Fence

As the boys rushed out to meet Sam at the plate Sunday morning, my smile widened.

It was hot; the temperature would be 80 degrees in the shade by noon, and the sun burned the last bit of dew from the manicured field. It's day one of the Challenge League playoffs, and there's no doubt Sam has shown up with his A-game in tow.

It was oozing beneath his uniform.

Radiating from the tip of his bat as he readied himself for his first swing.

And it left a trail from the line drive to left field, driving home the first runner.

Sam was on fire.

The team was on fire.

By his next turn at the plate, I'd taken a seat at my usual spot. Some people like the view from behind the plate, but I prefer the vantage point from third base.

From there, I can see Sam on the pitcher's mound or shortstop, and that day, I watched him celebrate his teammate's good plays and encourage them after errors.

"The boys are looking good today," I remarked to the coach as Sam stepped into the box for the second time.

His form looked great.

The pitch was good.

Crack!

Going, going, going - it's gone!

You only get to see your son knock one over the fence for the first time once, and I have to tell you, it feels pretty damn good.

The boys rushed home to meet Sam, who looked calm and collected as he took his victory lap - just a kid out there doing his job.

Samson! Samson! Samson!

If the boys were on fire before, they were a nuclear explosion now. The game was called early, 14-4, due to the mercy rule allowing only a ten-run lead.

That allowed an early start for the second game against Tega Cay, which also ended early, again due to the mercy rule.

I suspect this was Sam's best day of baseball yet.

Unlike his rec league, full of new players, the kids in the Challenge league have moved beyond the fundamentals. Like Sam, many have had years of private lessons, and specialists regularly lead their practices.

There's a stark difference in coaching, too. On this team, Sam has three excellent coaches and one hell of an assistant coach. And while there's still a little too much emotion allowed for my comfort, there's not nearly as much gear tossing and umpire dissing.

Watching these boys play is a real treat.

So, too, was watching how Sam carried himself on the field. It was a proud dad moment that puts a tear in my eye even as I write this.

Still, I couldn't help but notice the stark difference between Sunday's Sam and last Thursday's Sam.

It occurred to me once again that ensconced right there on the Little League field are all the rules, instructions, and direction for finding success in life.

Bringing your A-game to the A-team is easy to do.

Bringing your A-game to the C-team, well, that's a horse of a different color.

That's the real challenge.

Because whoever it is that's coaching this thing we call life, they don't always put you on the A-team.