I raced out of my office into a beautiful Spring afternoon and made my way to Sweet Water Park, where my 13 year old son was starting, what was most likely, his last season of organized baseball. The boys had a good coach and a favorable situation as the up tight "baseball parents" and their kids were off chasing dreams of baseball grandeur in the travel teams circuit, while these kids enjoyed America’s favorite “pass time.” Cutting through my lingering thoughts about the day’s work was a little guy named Noah, who’s step brother played on my son’s team. At the very first practice, this little guy about 6 years old made his way up the bleachers and plopped down right beside me and struck up a conversation with me. To be honest, I was thoroughly enjoying the simplicity of the moment soaking up some sun, listening to some tunes, and watching my son play ball. Clearly this youngster needed a listening ear so my ear buds came out and I was quickly taken in by this charming and genuine young gentleman. I re-directed his attention when my son or his step-brother were up to bat, otherwise we spent our time eating peanuts and talking about school, super heroes, food, movies, fishing, cartoons, and whatever else he wanted to talk about.
I missed the following practice, but at the next one it really hit me how badly this little guy needed some attention. Before I even got to the bleachers he met me and asked if he could sit beside me again. Those young needy eyes and his earnest plea produced a lump in my throat, as I assured him I was looking forward to it. My daughters entertained his younger sister, while I showed Noah how to open roasted peanuts and we hung out again for a few hours talking about nothing, but it meant everything. His mother, or maybe it was his step mother was there and asked repeatedly if Noah was bothering me, which I assured her that he was no bother at all.
Throughout the remaining practices and the first few games, I’d grab a bag of peanuts and Noah and I would hang out in the bleachers, eat peanuts, talk, and take in a baseball game. One day, as I left the office for a game, I found myself thinking about picking up some better peanuts for Noah and I to work with and maybe a powerade or two since it was getting “Georgia hot" at these ball games. This little guy had found his way into my heart and I was looking forward to hanging out with him just as much as I was to seeing the game or my son spank a frozen rope into deep center field. I frequently dissengage from adult talk, which is far too often laced with pointless complaining and criticizing. My kids were teens or pre-teens and I found Noah's company and conversation quite refreshing. Over the next few games Noah sat really close to me, which was sweet and all, but I just thought it best to politely nudge him away a little bit, but he would always scoot right back up next to me. For this little fella to become so attached to a relative stranger seemed odd, but clearly, he was looking for someone to treat him with respect and who would listen.
Throughout the remaining practices and the first few games, I’d grab a bag of peanuts and Noah and I would hang out in the bleachers, eat peanuts, talk, and take in a baseball game. One day, as I left the office for a game, I found myself thinking about picking up some better peanuts for Noah and I to work with and maybe a powerade or two since it was getting “Georgia hot" at these ball games. This little guy had found his way into my heart and I was looking forward to hanging out with him just as much as I was to seeing the game or my son spank a frozen rope into deep center field. I frequently dissengage from adult talk, which is far too often laced with pointless complaining and criticizing. My kids were teens or pre-teens and I found Noah's company and conversation quite refreshing. Over the next few games Noah sat really close to me, which was sweet and all, but I just thought it best to politely nudge him away a little bit, but he would always scoot right back up next to me. For this little fella to become so attached to a relative stranger seemed odd, but clearly, he was looking for someone to treat him with respect and who would listen.
One game, towards the end of the season, I noticed Noah was kind of quiet and distant from the peanuts or the game, so I let him have some silence. In between innings I noticed him trying to look at my face and into my eyes. He persisted and I turned and looked into his bright innocent eyes and I sarcastically asked, “what!?” After peering into my soul with a blank stare for two or three very long seconds he asked me, “Mr. Greg, am I a good kid?” My heart was completely gashed open with his sincerity, but I struggled to keep my cool and looked back into his soul and told him, “Little buddy...., you’re easily one of the coolest kids I’ve ever met and I’ve met a whole lot of kids in my years.” He sat back and seemed to be chew on those words for quite awhile. Good peanuts and a six run lead was not enough to get my mind off of what this little guy must be have going on to ask such a heavy question at six years old.
An inning later, as I was still working to turn the conversation towards sunny topics, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. Again, he looked into my soul and said, “I don’t know, but I know I don’t want to be a mean person.” Just then, he discreetly pointed to his step mother, who happened to be walking back from the concession stand, and he said, “She’s mean! She screams at me in my face all the time!” He shared his pain with me and showed me who was causing it and instinctively I was ready to rumble for this helpless little guy. I watched his mother/step-mother walk back to her seat and felt the adrenaline coming online. I was literally fighting mad, but I cooled myself down and told him that I too screamed at my kids from time to time and I tried to explain that being a parent can sometimes be extremely difficult.
An inning later, as I was still working to turn the conversation towards sunny topics, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. Again, he looked into my soul and said, “I don’t know, but I know I don’t want to be a mean person.” Just then, he discreetly pointed to his step mother, who happened to be walking back from the concession stand, and he said, “She’s mean! She screams at me in my face all the time!” He shared his pain with me and showed me who was causing it and instinctively I was ready to rumble for this helpless little guy. I watched his mother/step-mother walk back to her seat and felt the adrenaline coming online. I was literally fighting mad, but I cooled myself down and told him that I too screamed at my kids from time to time and I tried to explain that being a parent can sometimes be extremely difficult.
Interestingly, his step-mother made him sit beside her at the last two games, but he turned around and we made goofy faces at each other anyway. I learned that truly we meet people for a reason and there will always be a special place in my heart for sweet little Noah. His words brought to mind one of my favorite quotes from Maya Angelou, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
greg
