As I type this, the US and UK are tied in their World Cup match, which is all very exciting and stressful. Husband yelps occasionally from the couch, causing Caleb to howl in sympathy, but the baying at the screen going on here is nothing compared to where Liam is: at the apartment of a patient friend, watching the game with eight other 4th graders. I imagine the noise in that apartment rivals the noise in the South African stadium where the match is being played.
So in the spirit of this landmark sporting event, I offer you some highlights from the other end of the athletic spectrum: t-ball, Little League’s attempt to indoctrinate the youth of America about the intricacies of the “national pastime” (which somehow, when the salaries get big enough, magically morphs into the World Series. Nation to World in one swell foop. Go figure).
Herewith, the season in t-ball:
A play at first: 
Playing the field (in all directions):
Looking for bugs (the outfield is a dangerous place, bug-wise):
Chasing down grounders (apparently “playing your position” is a skill they learn next year):
And finally, the big diving catch to make the play:
We’re not sure there’s actually a ball in that mitt, but it’s important that one’s pants are filthy by the end of the game.
And there you have it folks. T-Ball, where everyone bats, everyone runs all the bases, there are no outs, and everyone gets a trophy at the end of the season. It’s not quite the Ajax Soccer School in Amsterdam, but it sure is cute.
