The Last Baseball Game of the Season

I have been avoiding writing this because I'm slightly embarrassed about how difficult this particular experience was for me. It's just a baseball game, he's played tons of baseball games, he will play baseball again, but it's something that he loves that is being taken away because he's sick. There are going to be a lot of things he loves that he can't do this summer, but this was the first step and it was a doosey. We talked to Zane after last weeks game, after he struggled with having no energy, and he agreed that he didn't want to play anymore this season. We agreed that he wouldn't play in the game on Monday. We would go to the game, cheer on his teammates, bring his coaches presents, and bring baseball cookies for his teammates. Then he came home from school crying that he wanted to play in the game, "Everyone else will being having fun except me." Yes, that's going to be the story for awhile isn't it.



So Zach and I caved and let him suit up. It was a terribly windy evening and the game was unbearable to watch. At the start of the season (two months ago) Zane was by far the best hitter on the game. He would get in the park homeruns every time up to bat. He hit long, hard, drives up the middle, he prided himself on being a power hitter, bringing the big bat. Fast forward to the past few games when he didn't have enough energy to swing the bat fast enough to hit anything. He also didn't have enough energy to play more than one or two innings of defense. Monday was no different, everyone on the team, even the kids who have never hit all season, where getting hits. All he wanted was one hit, but off course that didn't happen. He struck out three times and only played two innings of defense before he was too tired to play anymore.

 



At one point he came out of the dugout, with his head down, he gave me a big hug, and said, "mom, I'm just so tired." Here's where my big sunglasses came into play as I held back tears and held him for a moment. We tried to convince him to just have fun, cheer with his teammates, but it's no fun when you can't play and you're tired. So the game ended, they lost, the team lined up to give high fives and that was it. We handed out cookies and presents. Everyone gave Zane hugs, wished us all luck and we headed home.

 

About halfway home Zane said, "mom, that was a hard thing." My response was, "well, we can do hard things, and we did it." When we pulled into the driveway I burst into tears, at the thought of his slumped shoulders and tired face. At the thought of how many hard things lie ahead of us, how difficult his journey will be to get back on the field. At the idea of him missing out on his favorite thing for so long, at how unfair and gutting wrenching this whole situation. As emotional as that night was I cannot wait for how much more emotional the night will be when Zane gets his first hit post surgery. There is going to be a lot of pain between now and then. He'll have to relearn how to hit after his scars healed, but he his a fighter and we can do hard things. Warrior on!