Sliding Into Home

My daughter is going to play ball for the minors... And even though I'll be fresh out of whatever it is you're supposed to snack on at a softball game, I'll be up in the stands just a hooting and a hollering away, and if necessary heckling the other team and the ref all at once. There are refs in softball, right?

Tonight is KC's very first game for the little league I signed her up for way back at the tail end of March. And even though they've never even had one single stinking practice and can't possibly even know the names of all the members on their team, I'm sure this game is going to be top notch. Especially since the coach has such faith that practice does not make perfect and that somehow a group of ten year old girls will pull forth their psychic connections and automatically know that Jill Jones is on first, and Jane Doe is playing centerfield instead of being forced to scream, "Hey! Girl on second! Catch this!"

Yes, you heard it hear folks. The smell of sarcasm rising up high early in the morning. As far as coaches go, KC's coach is less than impressive with a questionable commitment level to the game in serious question. In fact, the general buzz of all the other parents would lead me to believe that Sir Coach is going to have his ears set aflame tonight if he doesn't get things a bit more pulled together before this season is out. I mean really... We all shelled out fifty dollars per kid to have them play softball, I believe we all need to see some bang for our bucks!

Batter up y'all.