no spring, no training

So pitchers and catchers report in four days, give or take. I had to look that up, by the way, when once upon a time I'd have been marking my calendar. The actual sporting news, though, here on this fake Spring day--it's my father's favorite temperature, fifty-five degrees, which means tomorrow it will be twenty--is that our resident player is choosing not to play.

This is not really a surprise, not exactly a disappointment, except that it kinda is.

When, a few weeks back, my mother reported--she's so involved in getting the girl to school that I sometimes feel like a substitute mother--that a glance at a softball flyer in her backpack elicited some interest, I was surprised but encouraged. So when a friend relayed the rumor that our previous coach had fled to another league, we strategized how the girls could play together in the same park, maybe on the same team, and I didn't approach my daughter until I had Plan B together. I wanted this to happen.

"Do you want to play softball this year?" No immediate answer.

"Well, I don't want to say it got to be a chore at the end. . ." Yes, you do.

She takes a deep breath like a draftee reporting: "but I have to be loyal to my team." She's an honorable sort, but that's not the answer I'm seeking.

"Tina's not coaching. They say she went to Collinsville." But I don't add, "to a more competitive league."

"She left us?!?" NOW she's distressed. But also relieved: an out!

"You could maybe play on the blue team, with Maddie. . ." but clearly, my bait has no appeal. She's still thinking about the end of the era--for about twelve more seconds, before she gives me her final, "no." It's just not her thing, though it could be, and lord knows I'm not gonna force it. All hit, no field doesn't really do a DH-less team any favors, and if she doesn't wanna, she doesn't wanna. I just really wish she did.