It wasn’t the hit.
The metal bat made a solid ping as it sent the baseball soaring toward the vine-covered fence in right-center field. I’d heard the sound before, mostly when watching the Little League World Series or college baseball games on television. I heard it occasionally during my son’s games in person too, though less often. This moment notwithstanding, pitchers his age often struggle to find the strike zone, which means the batters are less likely to have the chance to connect so directly.
It wasn’t the swing.
Long gone are the days when he would amble over to home plate, take his stance and bring his bat around with the faint hope of making contact. Now he walks up with a purpose, plants his cleats firmly in the dirt and sways back and forth slightly while the pitcher sets. He raises the bat high over his back shoulder, drawing little “O’s” in the air as he waits for the delivery. He takes a step toward the mound and swings over the plate, extending his arms and following through. I admire his form and hope that I looked that smooth swinging the bat when I was his age. Continue reading “The Best Part of a Little League Grand Slam”
