As are all of our Saturdays in the fall, it was packed with the boys' sports, a pair of soccer games in the morning and a pair of baseball games in the afternoon. We were on the go from 9 a.m. at Joe's soccer game to almost 5 p.m., when J.P.'s baseball game ended. The Saturday sports gauntlet and, as always, I loved every minute of it.
Joe's young soccer team, mostly l5 year olds, played a team of boys that looked like they were two grades older than them. I could tell from the minute the game started that Joe's team was going to get pounded, and they did. Midway through the second half, Joe's team was probably down 15-0 when Joe kicked the ball from his teams end of the field, well in front of the midfield line. It bounced the length of the field and went through he goalie's legs for his team's first and only score of the game. Classic and a big moment for Joe.
At 11 a.m., J.P.'s soccer team had a grudge match against the USN team. I called it the "sweep the leg" game. It was J.P. against all of his classmates from USN, several of whom had given him some grief on the playground at school about in the days leading up to the game. J.P. wanted this game. Hell, he needed this game, because he sure didn't want to have to listen to all of his buddies talk trash on the playground for the rest of the fall.
The USN team scored twice early to go up 2-0. Their best player - one of J.P.'s good friends - ran down the field popping his jersey after his first goal, which I didn't like. Later, when the same kid scored in the second half, he ran down the field popping his jersey, again, and holding his index finger to his lips to quiet the crowd, like he was playing in the Premier League. I would have benched him if he were my son or if I was coaching him.
Late in the first half, J.P. hammered a ball from long range that hit the goalie in the face, bounced off and was kicked in the goal by a teammate. Assist, J.P. A minute or so later, J.P. took a nice pass from a teammate and scored on the goalie - his good friend referenced above. 2-2 score. Now, it's a ballgame.
The USN team scored early in the second half to take a 3-2 lead. After that, J.P. literally took over the game. He was everywhere - contesting shots all over the field, pressing the action, bumping and jostling other players and just leading his team. It was glorious, just glorious, and one of my proudest sports moments as a father, to watch him lead. From 25 yards away or so - with Jon and Uncle Carley watching - J.P. took a cross field pass, settled the ball, and pounded a shot over the goalie's left shoulder into the upper corner of the goal. Amazing! Jon and I looked at each other in disbelief. J.P.'s teammates went nuts, chest bumping him and high fiving him. It was a big time play. 3-3. A few minutes later, J.P. led a two on one break and made a perfect pass to a teammate for the go ahead goal.
The final score was 5-3 or 6-4. J.P.'s buddy - the one popping his shirt and quieting the crowd - fell on the ground in tears at the final whistle. And J.P. held an index finger pointed toward the sky with a satisfied look on his face. He had left it all out on the field and led his team to victory. A big moment for him, for sure.
At 3 p.m., J.P.'s baseball team - the boys I have coached in fall and spring since they were 5 years old - played a team of 10 year olds who had moved down from the majors to the minors (our league) after getting boat raced by the 11-12 year olds all fall. Their team is comprised of a bunch of kids from a local private school. Our boys play most of these kids in basketball, soccer and baseball every year and there's a bit of a rivalry there. Their players (and siblings) tend to be a little obnoxious and, in fact, taunted our boys after a 1 point loss in the finals of the league basketball tournament last winter. For the Saturday baseball games, they picked up a travel player who played with us when he was 6. A good kid, good player, almost a head taller than anyone else on either team.
The Dodgers took an early 4-0 lead with Benton pitching and pitching pretty well and J.P. at shortstop. By the end of the second inning, J.P and the boys were up 5-3. in the bottom of the third inning, they stretched the lead to 9-3, with one of the runs coming when I gave J.P. the straight steal signal when he was on second base. It was a gamble, but J.P. slid into third base and popped up and ran home to score, sliding into home, when the ball got away from the third basemen.
J.P. came into pitch in the top of the third inning. His control was okay, not great, and got out of the inning after giving up one run. In the top of the fourth inning, he struck out the first batter, then ran into trouble after he walked a couple of players and the other team scratched out an infield hit. Our boys got another out, then a run scored and J.P. walked a runner home. Suddenly, the score was 9-6 our way, with the other team's ringer at the plate with the bases loaded. A grand slam would have given them the lead.
The ringer worked the count to 3-1 in his favor. "J.P.," I said. He looked over at me. "Dig deep." He threw a strike. Full count. My assistant coaches - who are my good, good friends - and I looked at each other, enjoying the moment. "Dig deep" I said again, as much to myself as to J.P. He rocked, lifted his knee and lunged toward home plate, released int the ball as he did. Right down the middle. The ringer swung the bat, missed the ball and it was strike three! Game over. J.P.'s teammate erupted and ran to him as he walked calmly off the field, toward the third base dugout, smiling just a little bit. They hugged him and pounded on his back, then we lined up to shake hands with the other team.
What a memorable day for J.P. It's one he will undoubtedly forget about in a week or so, but that I will treasure forever.
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