Three Strikes and Mom's Out...

KC's softball game was interesting tonight. Interesting being defined as how long I managed to hold my temper and my mouth in check before finally giving way to my grievances in what could probably be described as a loud and obnoxious tone, if one were really so inclined to describe it at all that is.

And it is becoming painfully obvious that I'm turning into one of those parents who will eventually be ejected from their child's sporting event by some off the wall official with an overdeveloped propensity for whistle blowing. But in this, I blame my daughter's coach for being the absolute tool that he is. And a clueless one at that.

Now don't get me wrong as I'm sure he's a real swell guy off the field, but on it, he's a complete ass... God forbid he ever get quizzed on the names of the girls on his team, or actually have to tell them to play a spot that wasn't the same spot they played the inning before. Or teach them about the game of softball in more detail than just hit the ball, run around the bases and when the other team is up to bat, try to get them out. In other words, everything they already know.

Then again holding practices might count for something if he bothered to have any which technically he hasn't done and I refuse to call his half hour before the game warm up sessions worthy of such a word. But tonight absolutely beat the cake, hands down, as the worst almost non-practice prior to the big show.

Tonight two little boys, obviously related or closely associated with the coach, took the field with the girls and then proceeded to catch the ball, throw the ball, and basically make it so every little girl on the field either starting drawing diagrams in the dirt with their cleat clad feet or pretty much sat down in the grass as if they were bored spectators rather than up and at 'em participants in the sport.

And poor KC was livid.

I could see it in her face, the stubborn tilt of her chin, complete with the look of absolute disgust in her eyes and the movement of her mouth which was gearing up to tell them exactly what she thought of them. (This is a good point to mention that my daughter is the not so watered down smaller version of me, and really it is quite a scary sight to behold at times.) So being the wise and wonderful parent that I am - and not so politically correct at times - I yelled out as if to my daughter, "Hey KC. Why don't you just sit down exactly where you are until the boys finish with their softball practice!"

(Hey. I never said I was the poster child of parenting and good role modeling...)

Really though, I thought it was quite a charming way of saying. "Why are you letting the boys out on the field when it's the girls who are supposed to be practicing?" Needless to say, other than my daughter giving me the thumbs up sign from the pitchers mound, it went pretty much unnoticed and the game started about three minutes later. But don't ask me who won, because no one keeps score...