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On Dancing in the Outfield

Ah little league… There are things that a father looks forward to… A first camping trip, learning to skateboard, the first fishing trip, etc…

On this list is often little league baseball… and my son has decided to make his presence known… In an oh so weird yet perfectly indicative of his personality sort of way.

Let me start by saying that I absolutely love my boy. The kid is weird, wonderfully weird. We go out and practice baseball with his brother and the three of us have a great time. Everyone tries to do their job, we catch, we throw, we hit (sort of…) It is like reading a storybook and I am that perfect dad with my perfect kids…

Then I take my boy to practice… Where he spends a good deal of time in the outfield. This is the kid that devises for himself science experiments… So put him in the outfield while batting practice is going on and next thing you know he is in the grass looking for bugs or who knows what… Until his coach yells at him to stand up which he does for 2-3 mins before something on the ground becomes more interesting then the batters.

The coach had yelled at him a few times to get up and the last time he did, without looking up my boy sticks his arms straight out (like a zombie) and stands up… Once up he proceeded to perform the Thriller dance…

If only that were the end of this tale…

The next thing I knew he was singing the Daft Punk song Technologic in what can only be described as an electronic seagull voice… punctuated by random bird cries…

Then this kid who may as well have been doing anything but baseball decides to heckle the batters…

“Are you gonna hit it?!?”

“Hit the ball!”

“Come on hit it out here already!”

…And then it happens… CRACK … The ball is hit… it is headed out to right field… my son is in position… his mitt is up… The ball is headed right for his mitt… and right as he is about to catch it he decides to dive out of the ball’s way…

As we are putting the children to bed, I recount this story to my wife. She is laughing so hard she begins to tear up. Then she goes in to ask our son about it… When she asks him about the dancing he adamantly states:

“I was not dancing, I was a zombie!”

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2 thoughts on “On Dancing in the Outfield

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