It's a swing and a miss

Like many other 9-year-old boys, Ben has long professed his desire to be a pro baseball player. The pro athlete dream is a rite of passage for boys. I wasn't about to squash the boy's aspirations to become the next Ryan Braun.

However, looking at the situation realistically, with the athletic genes that Ben received from Mark and me, it's never struck me as particularly likely that my oldest would achieve his goal. What are those genes, you ask? Well let's just say that on the Ceman side, I took home the most improved trophy for the swim team as a freshman. And my brother, Mike? He took home the same award for the tennis team just four years later. Yeah, you read that right: one family, two most-improved athletes. Of course, the most improved award probably is a euphemism for not so good at first, marginally better at the end of the season. (For the record, I was tickled when I received my trophy, but now the Ceman family most improved awards are a running joke with my clan.) For his part, Mark warmed the baseball benches alongside the likes of Eric Hinske. I tease only because I love, my dear husband!

To my surprise, though, with much determination, Ben has turned out to be a decent athlete. He's a terrific runner. Ben ran the Sole Burner with the running club from school. His goal was to finish before Mark and me, and he did - by a good four minutes. As for baseball, Ben wasn't an outstanding player on his coach-pitch teams, but he was solid, a decent hitter, probably one of the better players. Ben's destiny was not in the major leagues, but maybe he could play ball in high school.

With a switch to kid pitch this year, everything has changed. If you've read The Art of Fielding, you'll know what I mean when I say that Ben is going through a Henry Skrimshander moment. The game has gotten into his head, and he's lost all of his confidence. The change to using a harder ball in this league has freaked him out, and Ben has an almost-paralyzing fear that he'll get hit with the ball and be seriously injured. I've watched with a mix of frustration, sorrow and empathy as my boy has stepped into the batter's box again and again and refused to take a decent swing at the ball. Frankly, he looks terrified, like he's hoping to get walked each time. Kids Ben's age aren't great pitchers, but still, he strikes out about half the time, and he's not striking out swinging.

Of course, this isn't a huge deal. It's hard for me to watch Ben struggle so much, but if he's content with how things are going, I'm OK with it. Mark, as his dad and assistant coach, will help Ben work to get better, but maybe baseball's just not what it used it to be to Ben. Like 99.5 percent of boys, the baseball dream isn't destined to come true for my oldest. He'll join most of the rest of us and end up participating in sports for the pure joy of it, not millions of dollars. That's been more than enough for me. I'm nowhere near the fastest swimmer or runner, but I genuinely enjoy doing both. I hope Ben will find that same contentment.