My Son Hit One Out of the Park

If there was ever a more festive moment this spring, I cannot imagine what it might be. Watching my eleven year old son struggle with his batting this whole baseball season has broken my heart. We have spent countless hours in the batting cages, just me and him, practicing. His dedication & determination have been inspirational to me; yet, time after time, he would walk away from home plate with just a hint of sorrow and the echo of "strike three".

My heart broke every time this happened. There wasn't anything I could do to help him. He knew the mechanics of his swing, he understood the timing of the pitcher and he was sending them "over the fence" in the batting cages. His fear or insecurities up at the plate were something he had to conquer on his own.

I have often told him that once he found the "sweet spot" and connected the ball to the bat, he would know the secret ingredient that no one else could teach him and was something he would have to find on his own. I assured him that once he found the spot, it would come together.

Monday night, he hit a nice ground ball, straight down the pitchers line into center field. I noticed how differently he carried himself when he walked up to bat tonight. His confidence was very evident as he swung ~ once, twice, three times. He had struck out, but he was swinging and the power was there. It was all beginning to come together.

Second time to bat was another line drive to center field. His smile was so bright.

The third time up to base, he was more confident and held himself a bit taller. As the ball sailed through the air, he swung and the ball cracked against the bat. As it flew out of the ball park, my son held up his arms and ran around the bases. His smile was so bright, even through my tears of pride and joy, I could see how important this moment was for him. He had worked hard and his hard work had paid off.

An ice cream party at home seemed a nice celebration for the accomplishment of such an important goal. His success reminded me that I should always be swinging for the fence. I may strike out, not once but many times, but as long as I am swinging, I am working toward a goal; A goal that I am going to hit if I keep trying.