Everyone wins Ethanol 400

If you read my last post, you know all about the crazy baseball weekend just past. Rest assured me and my boy survived the pace of 10 games in four days.

Along the way, it's been an emotional roller coaster. From fiscal fatigue prompted by driving to and fro and to again Friday, to adrenaline fatigue prompted by supercharged testosterone, to emotional fatigue prompted by sentimentality.

Zach's little league career ended about 6 p.m. Sunday in a 10-9 consolation bracket championship loss to the St. Albert Falcons. While there's a lot of baseball ahead for him -- not to mention, me (and us) -- this is more than the end of a season for me. Those are difficult enough.

Walking around the state tournament venue, I grinned watching the little guys play. That's where it starts. And then they grow up. And they go to high school, which actually has organized baseball (the middle school doesn't!). And it all changes.

Parents who questioned the competitiveness of little league no longer have a player on the field. Players who lifted weights five days a week at 6:30 a.m. improved dramatically. The dad of one such player should temper his enthusiasm.

I'm not much help to him anymore anyway. Perhaps I'll lend a hand with the organization that made my son a future high school varsity baseball player.