The Fire Pit at the Residence Inn

Back to work and thinking about this weekend, what will I write about?

Scoops and Tugs
No hits before 10, 14U Rangers Black
Who is going to pitch?
Peer pressure and Bud Heavy, the Kevin W. Story
Fire Side Chats with Prosecco-Fueled Moms
Stephanie M. “America’s Sweetheart”
Tim and James Go on a Date
How Gay Is a Veggie Burger?
Martine’s New Outfit
“You Know Where I Stand”: Dan T. Hot Takes on Youth Baseball
Why Did Tom H. Cross the Road?
Steph Learns How to Pronounce Kara
Coach Goodie’s Uncomfortable Pretzel Talk
Willie McBride’s and His Toothless Bride
Duke Cleans Off the Wine Flutes
Rich M. Gets Fed on His Anniversary
Gap to Gap Moms Are the Friendliest

I was really hoping to write about how we persevered through two seasons and finally came through in season two with a big weekend tournament win. It was our last tournament of the summer 14U baseball season, and we were in upper New Jersey at Diamond Nation.

We were a team still taking shape, but there were plenty of reasons to be hopeful. We had finally filled some of the spots that had been weak and always seemed just one step away from putting it all together. We are still a work in progress, but it will happen. I have it on good inside information.

The weekends and trips have become just as much fun for the parents as they are for the kids. We are a stone-cold pack of weirdos, to paraphrase Bridesmaids, and that is how we like it.

Thinking about all the funny little things that happened this weekend, none comes more quickly to mind than the female equivalent of Don Rickles, the uncompromising Steph M., rarely burdened by a kind word for anyone.

Steph has always spoken her mind and given us such catchphrases as, “Throw strikes,” and, “Get it up, Joe!” This weekend, she let all the filters go. I can only imagine what instructions Rich receives behind closed bedroom doors.

Still, it would not be the same without her. She is loved. I appreciate all the uniqueness of our very own America’s Sweetheart.

The kids battled hard during our second game, but we ended up in the dreaded consolation circle. The final game still felt like our own championship, and we wanted the win. It was a good game, and we were all happy that they finished the weekend hitting and on a high note. That always makes the ride home more enjoyable.

I am always surprised and thankful for the fun we have. Life takes you down all these winding roads, and somehow you end up at a Residence Inn fire pit with people who were once strangers. Somewhere along the way, a team becomes a family.

We drank our drinks: seltzers, Prosecco, Bud Heavy, Truly, Michelob Ultra, IPAs, rosé, White Claws, and Sip of Sunshine.

There were professionally prepared charcuterie boards from Jen, Amanda serving as the s’mores grill safety officer, and her Ranger’s chocolate-covered pretzel sticks.

There were so many inside jokes and stupid stories as we sat around enjoying our time together. Most would make no sense to anyone who was not there, and some barely made sense to those of us who were.

This was the last tournament of the summer, with an uncertain future as the boys grow and the team changes. Of course, we wanted the big win and the social media post.

Instead, we left with a consolation win, a hundred new jokes, and another weekend together.

Maybe that was enough.

These seasons feel like they will last forever while we are living them. There is always another practice, another game, another long drive, and another hotel. Then suddenly the boys are taller, their voices are deeper, and you realize these weekends are not endless after all.

One day, the bats will be put away, the uniforms will no longer fit, and the fire pits will be empty. We will miss the noise, the wet-towel snapping, the bad calls, the inside jokes, and even the games that did not go our way.

The trophy would have been nice.

But years from now, I do not think I will remember the score.

I will remember the boys growing up together, the parents becoming friends, and all of us sitting around that fire, laughing and wondering who farted in that group photo.