Baseball royalty

I've had many jobs in my life: babysitter, scorekeeper, referee, camera store clerk, photographer, writer, editor, designer, teacher and probably a few others I've forgotten along the way.

But I have new title to add to my resume: coach.

I won't get paid, except in high-fives and smiles, but that's OK. I'm excited to do something new and to share my love of baseball with 11 boisterous 4-year-olds.

A few months ago, I emailed our parks and recreation people about signing Sawyer up for T-ball so I didn't miss the registration period. The woman asked if I would be interested in coaching. I hadn't really expected to get recruited myself, but I know how hard it can be to find parents who volunteer for things like this. And I played softball for years and year. And I already teach 4- and 5-year-olds at Sunday school. I told her I'd think about it.

Ray tried to talk me out of it. But I had pretty much already decided this was something I wanted to try. I love baseball with all my heart, and if I could share that love of the game with some pint-sized players, it would be worth a six-week commitment.

Besides, I reasoned, I won't be able to coach Sawyer forever. If he loves baseball and excels at it, it'll be fun to remind him that it's all because of his first coach.

We had our coaches meeting last night. I don't know if I was the only first-time coach there, but I WAS the only one who asked any questions. (Journalists never quit, right?)

I left with my roster, a pack of blank lineup cards, a schedule for our first (and only) practice, two baseballs and a whole lot of nervousness. What if I only have six kids show up for a game? What if I can't get any of the parents to help me? What if my ankle is not better by then? What if someone gets hurt? Or some obnoxious parent thinks I'm not a good coach? Or worse, thinks a woman shouldn't coach?

When I got home, I told Sawyer the name of his baseball team: the Royals. (Is it awful to be glad that we got a good shirt color like royal blue instead of yellow?)

"What's a royal?" he asked.

"It's the people like kings and queens, princes, princesses and dukes," I told him. "You know, like the royal palace?"

"Oh," he said. "OK, I want to be the king."

"That's fine," I told him.

"You can be the princess," he responded.

"Um, no, sir," I said. "Your mama is the queen, and don't you forget it."

Ray and I got a good laugh out of that. Sawyer didn't quite get what was funny.

He may be in for a rough time, but I think this is going to be a fun experience. And hopefully a great season.

I just have one goal for the kids and me: No crying in baseball.