The Dodgers Ride Again

My experience watching the Dodgers - my Dodgers - play in their first travel baseball tournament in Smyrna on Saturday perfectly encapsulated the long, strange trip we're on right now.

The boys are playing travel baseball mostly because our home league - West Nashville Sports League - hasn't started yet because Nashville remains in "phase 2" as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic.  The only way for the boys to play 12U baseball is to travel to outlying counties and play teams that have been practicing and playing a lot more than we have.  

I didn't coach any of our three games on Saturday.  Instead, I sat away from everyone - distancing - and watched the games with Glenn Brown.  In 90 + degree weather, I wore a blue mask almost the entire day, sweating the entire time.  

Why?  Because during a mediation at work on Thursday, one of the attorneys I was mediating for got a telephone call from one of his law partners, who had just learned that he had tested positive for COVID-19.  The attorney got tested on Friday but didn't have hit test results back by the time we played our first game Saturday morning.  

Although it was unlikely that I had been exposed to COVID-19, I had been in an enclosed room with this attorney - who is a friend of mine - for 1 to 2 hours Thursday morning.  As a result, I didn't feel comfortable possibly exposing the boys or their parents to the virus if, by chance, I had it.

So, I sat in a camping chair along the fence and occasionally shouted instructions and encouragement to J.P. and his teammates.  

It was surreal, to say the least.  

In my heart, I wasn't sure if the boys should be playing baseball again, with the number of positive tests for COVID-19 ticking upward in Nashville rather than downward.  And, of course, there was little or not social distancing among players and families, other than the fact that there weren't to many spectators.  I was one of, at most, five people wearing a mask.  

On the other hand, watching the boys together, especially in between games, laughing and well, just being 12 year old boys reminded me of how much they had missed being with each other.  These boys - my boys - have missed out on so much the past three months because of COVID-19.  Baseball, yes, but so many other things.  School, friends, and what in all likelihood is the last vestige of their childhood.  

In a way, what remained of their innocence has been stolen by the virus, right at the point in time where they're about to be teenagers.  Life was already about to become a lot more complicated for them but, in my view, they had another spring and summer to be boys.  COVID-19 stole what remained of their youth from them, it seems to me.

That's precisely why I enjoyed watching the boys in between games, spending time with each other, as much or more than I enjoyed watching them play baseball.  I didn't much care that they lost 5-3, 6-3, and 12-2.  What I cared about was watching them sit in a circle, under the tent, and talk and laugh with each other.  Seeing that made my really, really happy.

Afterwards, I asked J.P. if he enjoyed his first travel baseball tournament.  

"I did," he said.  "But you know what I really enjoyed?  Just hanging out with the guys in between games."  

I couldn't have said it any better myself.

J.P.

When I posted this picture on Instagram, taken after J.P. and finished a run a couple of week ago, a friend of mine I've known since junior high school commented that he looks just like I did at that age.  

Brothers

These guys.  

Five the First Time

Saturday morning, J.P. ran 5 miles for the first time in his life.  And I was with him every step of the way.  

Blakemore Avenue to West End to Elmington Park to Fairfax Avenue and back home.  J.P.'s first 5 miles run.  I mean, damn.

This running thing with the two of us.  It's hard for me to put into words how much it means to me.  Even if it's only for a little while, to share with him something that is so special to me means the world.

When we run together, it's almost like we're not two people, but one.  Running together, fast, not effortlessly but not working too hard.  Often time, he runs just off my shoulder, slightly behind me, always close.  It's a beautiful metaphor for our life together, in some ways.  He's my guy.

I've been running for almost 30 years.  J.P.'s just started running.  Still, he runs with me almost effortlessly.  For now and for now only, I'm a stronger runner than him.  I know that and he knows that.  But, damn, I know - I mean, I really know - that if he sticks with running for the next few months, he'll be holding himself back when we run so I can keep up with him.  He may not know that, but I do, for sure.

I feel so close to J.P. when we run.  Closer than father and son, somehow.  It's almost like our age difference melts away and we become friends or peers, running together.  We're sharing something - a run - that really has nothing to do with who we are.  It's something we're doing.  Together.  We leave ourselves or, at least, I leave myself, for a few minutes, anyway.

As we finished our 5 mile run, I was so proud of him.  8:18 per mile, running at a conversational pace.  Not racing.  Not by any stretch.  We could easily have run 7:40 per mile or, maybe, even 7:30 per mile.  

J.P. has natural, God given ability when it comes to running, or so it seems to me.  Where will it take him?  Who knows.  In truth, I'll be happy if he takes up running as a lifelong activity like I have, because it's something we can share.  Now, and always.       

The kid after his first ever 5 mile run.  Thankfully, he got his first haircut since the pandemic hit later Saturday afternoon.