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Just a Game

Learning Not to Keep Score

By Mark Stackpole

To my surprise, there was another reason for my anxiety, which I gradually became aware of as the day wore on. My big brother, Steve, "Meghan's Daddy" to her friends, is an assistant coach on the team. My brother-in-law, whom Alie calls "Dad," is the head coach. It might sound strange, but I was suddenly and painfully aware of the fact that I did not have a child on the team. A part of me kept waiting to get picked as a "parent helper," just as I used to wait to get picked when playing games at recess. Perhaps the team would need a third base coach, and I could step in. Maybe I could be an umpire or give the outfielders some direction. As I looked around the field, though, I reminded myself that there were dads for that. Yes, I had two nieces on the team, but the team did not need any uncles to help them out this time.

Before the game, fathers were asked to take the field to help the players warm up their little arms. I got some great pictures of fathers with their kids. During the gam, a dad was asked to sit in as bench coach, helping a batter get into her helmet and a catcher out of his gear. You should see the shots I got of the kids laughing in the dugout.

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