Parents Behaving Badly by Scott Gummer

Author:Scott Gummer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A Touchstone Book

9.

Pride, envy, lust, greed, wrath, sloth, and gluttony. The seven deadly sins are all on display at the Little League park, oftentimes all at the same time. Parents cheering while wondering between pitches what it would be like to get jiggy with that mom or that dad, or parents seething over why their kid was not playing here, there, or more. Coaches running up the score and ripping into kids who had not yet grown peach fuzz much less thick skin. Kids who would not run even if you lit a pack of firecrackers in their back pocket, and a herd of heifer-sized men, women, and tubby children grazing on a diet consisting of the four ballpark food groups: pork, processed cheese, fried anything, and candy.

The first game of the season pitted the Angels against the Tigers. As families and friends settled into the bleachers, Laura Ashford beckoned to Jili for a quick word in private behind the stands.

“Thank you so much for inviting Aaron to Andrew’s birthday party,” she said sweetly. “But it’s not going to work out.”

“I’m sorry Aaron won’t be able to make it.”

“Not just Aaron, but all the kids.”

“I don’t understand,” said Jili.

“You scheduled your boy’s party for the first Sunday in May, but rainout games are always made up on Sundays in May.”

“But there haven’t been any rainouts to make up.”

“Well, not yet, but if there are, then you can’t very well have a birthday party—much less a swim party—on the day of a game.”

“The party is at 12:30. If there were a makeup game and if it were a morning start, then kids could come to the party afterwards, and if it was an afternoon start, we could start the party earlier.”

“And allow the children to swim before a game?”

“So long as they bring their swim trunks.”

With a dramatic and exasperated sigh, Laura handed back her son’s invitation, along with a handful more she had collected from other parents on the team.

Logan Winters pitched the top half of the first inning and struck out the side on nine pitches. Del looked pleased. In the other dugout, coach Bobby Jeffries did not. The ditchdigger with a face like a pug and the physique of a fire hydrant had not forgotten Del’s draft night shenanigans, and it was no real surprise to anyone who had been at the draft when Del’s son, Dante, led off the bottom of the first inning by getting drilled in the ribs. Del marched out onto the field, though not to his gasping son but rather to the umpire.

“I want that pitcher and the coach ejected, right now.”

The ump removed his mask and sighed as though he had known he was going to have his hands full. No shrinking violet, Grant Robertson was a seasoned and respected umpire. “Why don’t you check on your player, Del?”

“Why don’t you check your rule book?” Del never broke his glare, not so much as glancing Dante’s way as his son hobbled to first base clutching his midsection, fighting back tears, and struggling to catch his breath.

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