It was a rough playoff game. The loser faced the dismal loser’s bracket, forced to claw their way back up. Neither team wanted to start off the series that way.
The game started out ok, and we kept it tied for the first few innings 0-0. Then 1-1. But when we got to the third and fourth, and their pitcher sent curve ball after fastball after slider at our boys, their spirits sank and so did their bats.
The opposition took advantage, and runs began pouring in. 3-1. 5-1. Then it was 6-2, bottom of the sixth. Our last up at bat, and hope was nearly gone – until their pitcher ran up his count, and had to exit. Thank goodness for Little League arm-protection rules.
And an amazing thing happened. Our boys started cheering each other on. We got on base, one after another and they were loaded. One out. Home plate started seeing our footprint, and when my son stole home it was a tie game, 6-6. Before we knew it, the shortstop stole home, too, and we were on top-a place we never expected to be.
After the game, I asked my son what he thought about the night – how was he feeling during and after? He paused, then responded, “Well, I guess you just can never give up.”
Life lessons from a 12-year-old.
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