just tell him

At work, one of our most “lively” clients is named Mary was talking about her 9-year old son. Mary is single and one of those loud, crazy, outspoken, opinionated ladies. She is a mother of two and divorced her husband recently. But anyway, she was saying how her son, Adrian wants to start playing baseball and how he “sucks” her words, no mine. She complained how there is no one that can teach him since Adrian’s father is no longer in the picture. I guess Mary’s older son was very good at baseball and she said she wouldn’t show up to the games if Adrian is the worst player on the team. Haha So my boss recommended that she pay a college or high school student to teach Adrian how to play. I quietly said I played baseball in high school and she quickly wrote down her number.

I asked her what experience Adrian has in sports and what league he is in. So she told me that he is athletic and takes fencing pretty seriously. Touché? And she said he likes Yu-gi-oh which was pretty irrelevant. But, anyway, I was pretty nervous about teaching a kid how to play baseball. But it was also pretty exciting. I had some time off the next day. So I went to Sports Authority to buy some wiffle balls so I can toss them to him.
So I show up 20 minutes early to the park where we were to meet. And Mary and Adrian pull up and stretch before we get started. Mary asks if I need her help, and I say sure. So, we start to throw to each other, and it’s clear that he is afraid of the ball. I try and tell him how to catch a ball that is above his waist and a ball that is below his waist. He says Ok, but is just afraid of the ball so it doesn’t make a difference. Mary comes out of her car with running shoes and still wearing a dress skirt. We continue to throw for about 5 minutes, and then Adrian sort of jumps out of the way when I throw it directly to him. Mary is behind me at this point and says:
“Grant, you could tell him, just tell him.”
I say, “What?”
“Don’t worry, just tell him”
Again, I say “what?”
“She says/yells, “Adrian, when you do that, you look like a faggot.”
I couldn’t believe she said that. But, I sort of did this half smile, mumble “no” and turn to Adrian to catch his throw. lol
It was pretty funny, but pretty sad. If she is saying these sort of things in front of me, I have no idea what she says when they are alone. I felt bad for Adrian, he was trying his hardest, but Mary is very demanding and intimidating.
So we ran the bases, threw, and hit wiffle balls for two hours. It seemed that Adrian enjoyed it. But I’m scared for him because he’s in “majors” where kids are going to be pitching to him.

This whole experience made me realize how fortunate I was to have a dad that wanted to teach me how to play baseball. My dad didn’t know the most about baseball or anything, but he would always want to play catch or go to the batting cages with me. If it wasn’t for him, I would’ve never played for as long as I did. I miss baseball so much.