Something's Wrong with the World Today

I don't know exactly how to describe what I saw today.

What I know is, there were two simultaneous games going on.

The first involved bleachers full of parents and other supporters, wearing their teams colors, screaming at the top of their lungs at the refs, and the players. The coaches were contesting every call made against their team, yelling wildly at their players and moving them around the field haphazardly, almost randomly.

The second game was 22 three and four year olds playing t-ball. They were digging in the infield, trying to get their ponytails through their hat loops, turning around in circles, catching pretend pop-up fly balls. Trying hard to do what they were told, but often confused because directions were flying at them from every adult in a 500 meter radius.

The other thing I know is, when the two games intersected, there were tears.

One little boy (probably 35" tall) was up to bat and his entire stand of bleachers was chanting his name. The first base coach was yelling things like, "you promised your mama!" Once the ball was set on the tee, the boy stood there, terrified. He didn't swing. He just looked at it. When he finally plucked up enough courage, he swung hard and missed the ball entirely, throwing the bat in the process. Now both stands of bleachers were laughing at him. I wanted to give him a hug.

At one point, the ball was hit mightily by the other team and landed proudly at the feet of the centerfield girl. She was too busy trying to fix her hair and her hat to be bothered with stooping down to get the ball and run it anywhere (they ran the ball everywhere. Why trust to throwing??). Now everyone was shouting at her. Meanly. "Get going!!!" "Pick up the dang ball!" "What in $*## are you doing??". She stood her ground though, I was proud of her. She got her hair through. Another kid finally came over and got the ball and then ran it all the way in to home, where the hotly contested call was made, "Safe. Homerun." It was so hotly contested, that after the field had been cleared, all the kids were made to come back out and redo the play. The team still scored a run on the redo.

At one point, a child on second base burst into tears, "I don't want to play anymore!!! I don't like baseball anymore!!" He would not be consoled, and he would not run further. It took them 7 minutes to find him a replacement runner.

At the very end of the already lost game, the coach got so enraged at his players' apathy for the trophy in this championship, that he squatted down to eye level with a sweet little girl and screamed at her in the face. Then she started to cry and walk away, and he caught up, boxed her in and screamed at her again. I later found out that it was his daughter. I don't know if that makes it better or not.

The lessons I took away from this experience were threefold, and I warn you that there may be a little righteous indignation, so read on at your own peril.

1) I will not put my kids in to competitive sports until they are at least 6 or 7. And then, only if they are interested in doing it. I am not a sports-hater (I'm a sports-watching-hater). I think sports are great for fitness, coordination, learning team skills, learning rules of the game and being part of a bigger entity. But this hyper-competitive-winning-no-matter-what culture is definitely not for me. I was part of a softball team in high school with a perfect losing record. And I'm fine. I made good friends and got in shape and learned how to play. Good enough for me. That's not to say that I won't put my kids in the kind of t-ball where everyone gets a turn to hit and then goes to the outfield. But I'm not going to enroll them in a sport where they have to wear full uniforms. Including belts and socks.

2) It seemed to me that the parents in attendance could have been just as well watching March Madness--they were projecting their competitiveness onto a team. They were loving the matching shirts and the banter and the sun on their shoulders. What they didn't seem to realize was, these three and four year olds weren't capable of shouldering all of their team-loving mania. The kids were just pawns in their need to be competitive and WIN. I think that competition certainly has a place, maybe in collegiate and professional sports. They can handle it, and they love it too. Besides that, by the time the players are in the pros, they've already gotten in shape, learned the rules of the game, become coordinated, and played as a team (some of them). They are ready for the next level.

3) We live in a rough place. I understood better why crimes and gangs have such success down here in South Texas. No, I'm not making a Freakonomics connection here between t-ball and crime. But there is this culture of assertiveness and entitlement that makes a girl feel a little uncomfortable sometimes. The point is, they start them out young.

My Favorite Obscenities

Ha, I just wanted to make sure you clicked on this post from your reader.

This will actually be a post free of obscenities, but it is a big announcement for me. . .

I've been working on this website project since I moved to Harlingen, and it is finally put together enough for the grand unveiling!

Creative Calibrations is a sort of personal endeavor to archive our favorite pictures, recipes, projects, etc. Don't worry, no journal entries. . . yet.

Anyway, check it out if you are interested.

(And for those of you who know about how to design websites are write code, please be gentle in your assessment. It's my first try.)

Weekend with the Roberts

Our fun friends, the Roberts, came to see us the other weekend. We had a fabulous time at the beach and the flea market and just lounging in our house.

too bad your mom doesn't keep your nose clean. Poor adorable happy girl.

we built a hammerhead shark at the beach.

Flea Market (la Pulga)

"umm, why do they have roosters here?" Mikail pointed out the mirror lying on the table that is used to show how aggressively they attack "other" birds.



Thanks for coming you guys! We loved having you!

Folklorica!

Ben's classmate plays in a Mariachi band here in the valley, and he invited us to come see them perform the other night at a Folklorica dance concert.


This guy was Clark's favorite/scariest. He danced around in a little speedo with a deer head hat. He looked just like a deer, and then he got shot by the hunters. (scary part)

Good job, Oscar! (the trumpet player, not the identical looking violinist)