The Stuff Dreams are Made of

Ahh, baseball season. The crowd, the sunshine, the sound of the ball when it makes contact with the bat. Summer is here at last.

My eight year old son is playing his first year on a baseball team, the Dodgers. They made it to the championship and the game was last Saturday. It was the Angels and the Dodgers. I hadn't made many of his games this year, dad was there for that, but I wanted to see him play in the championship. I am so glad I did.

I arrived late and saw what looked like a bleak situation. The Dodgers were down by four runs and it was the last inning. Before the first Dodger went up to the plate to bat, the coach gathered them all for a pep talk.

"All we need to win this if five runs," he said. "We've done it before, and we can do it again."

Then, I watched as the Dodgers scored one, then two, then three runs. It was now a five to four ball-game. The Dodgers had 2 outs. Only one more batter was left with the chance to win the championship game.

I suspected my son was to be up soon, so I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Sure enough, the announcers voice went over the loud speaker confirming my suspicions.

I prayed. Strike one, strike two. I prayed some more.

Then the familiar sound filled my ears, the sound of contact. My son hit a double, bringing in two runs. The Dodgers won the championship! I cried. I could of missed it. But I didn't, I was there, and I was proud.

Their childhood passes so quickly, then it's gone and you can't get it back again. It is such a blessing to see children grow and achieve and become all they were created to be.

And I don't want to miss a thing!