The Last Game

I did not know it was the last game when it happened.

My son was seventeen. It was the last tournament of his last travel ball season. His team lost in the semifinals, and that was it, the season was over, and so, as it turned out, was his organized baseball career.

He had decided not to pursue college baseball. He wanted to focus on academics, on other interests, on a different kind of future. It was the right decision for him, and I supported it.

But I did not know, standing in those stands watching that semifinal game, that I was watching the last one. If I had known, I would have paid different attention.

I would have watched his face more and the scoreboard less. I would have noticed the way he moved in the field, the way he set his feet in the batter's box. I would have tried to memorize it.

Instead I watched the game the way I had always watched games, tracking pitches, evaluating decisions, thinking about what he could do better.

If you are in the middle of your child's baseball years right now, here is what I want you to know: watch your child. Not the game. Not the scoreboard.

Watch your child. You will not always know when it is the last time.