I may have imagined such a night, but I couldn’t have scripted it any better than it happened.

It’s true that you just can’t make this stuff up.

We got a call the night before Dillon was asked to report to the major league game in case they needed a back up 1B player.

A sold out night game versus the Giants in Scottsdale Stadium meant that tickets were iffy. 11 of us converged anyway (some of us from about two hours away) with hopes of getting into the game, even though we knew our player probably wouldn’t make it into the game himself.

Dillon’s request for tickets didn’t get processed and the clerk at the will call window didn’t have anything for us. Following a brief discussion between the manager and the staff, the very accommodating Giants people just handed us some bleacher tickets and told us to enjoy the game.

Once inside, we scanned the field and couldn’t believe he was actually taking BP at that very moment, so his dad and I dashed over against the backstop. Watching Manager Mike Scioscia watching our boy swing it was like a feature film playing in my brain.

We got a little bit of parental love: glove bumps, the megawatt smile and a couple seconds of that good old baseball small talk, and then he disappeared into the dugout.

With most of his immediate family present (missing brother Casey in California and sister Marie in Prescott), his girl Addison, and his childhood buddies from Prescott (Wes, Jeff, and Jay), we squeezed into the distant right field bleachers where we had a great long view of the dugout.

Another baseball parent (thanks Carolyn Berg!) was sitting above the dugout and gave us updates on where he was standing along the rail so we could watch him watching the game.

In the top of the 8th, I didn’t see him leaning on the railing where he’d been through the entire game … looking down near the on deck circle, I spied a guy about Dillon’s size wearing a helmet, holding a bat.

Never mind what was happening on the field, which the rest of the 10,000 plus spectators were following. Our group, surrounded by a sea of Giants fans, were watching, waiting, holding our collective breaths … and then we saw him step up onto the field, do his signature pre-at bat move: the bat held in both hands raised high and then stretched behind his neck. Then his name was announced.

You won’t read a description of what happened next on MLB.com as there’s only a mention of the Angels picking up 2 hits in their defeat; Chris Pettit‘s early in the game is the only one noted. You will spot his name if you take a look at this wire account that didn’t make it into our hometown newspaper since the game ended too late.

If you’re a family member on FaceBook and want to see what happened when he singled to right on a 1 in 0 count, you can watch this video that a wonderful Giants fan recorded and sent me. Thank you Robert. Sorry, if you’re not a family member, it’s got privacy settings on it so you won’t be able to see it.

It won’t be written about anywhere else, but for us it was as good as it gets. Your kid batting 1.000 in the majors. For a day.

And we know it’s official because the bench coach gave Dillon the official score card.

We’re talking minor leagues, and even though it is just across the road from the major league camp, there are lots of differences.

For one, son has asked that we NOT come down to watch. I think this comes down to humility and knowing your place in the pecking order. This, I must respect.

So what’s a fan to do till Opening Day?

For starters, I stayed warm in the Arizona Letterman jacket he gave me for Christmas all winter. Then, in mid February, I took a little trip down the road to Tucson to check out the first weekend of Wildcat baseball (fortunately it was rainy and cold so I could show off that jacket everywhere I went!).

Then, there was our family Oscar party when I dressed up as Annie Savoy, again in the jacket.

Oh, and there is the daily dose of baseball updates courtesy of MLB.AtBat on my iPod.

Finally, there is the baseball knitting. On my needles right now, like most knitters, are a wide variety of projects: some beautifully elegant apparel, some adorably soft tiny things that will adorn grandkids when done, and a few experimental pieces. In the spirit of Spring Training are these socks (seen at right), a modification of a design by Meredith Knitting, in honor of the 2009 MLB Amateur Draft 11th pick of the Los Angeles Angels (#351 overall).

Since June I’ve been occasionally documenting the journey, from draft day, to reporting, to short season, through Fall Instructs, and now, after they break camp, will be looking forward to watching some games either out in Iowa or California. We’ll know where the next part of this career goes in a few weeks.

Meanwhile, if I just get today’s spring cleaning chores done early, I can grab my knitting bag, drive across town and watch a little Yavapai College Roughrider baseball.

Speaking of this, if you’re a baseball fan, you might like some of these posts in the Loosely Speaking archives:

11 Halos: Part 5 – Trip to Orem
11 Halos: Part 4
11 Halos: Part 2 – Signing Day

Seeing number 39 run out onto the field at Brent Brown Stadium for the first time was strangely underwhelming. All I could do was smile and remember the hours son put in hitting wiffle balls off his Grandma when he was about five years old and had exhausted all the rest of his BP pitchers (his dad, myself and two brothers). He was still a couple of years too young for Little League back then. Sixteen years later, that’s what I see out there on the grass.

Owlz luminaries encountered on our trip:

Matt Gittens, announcer, radio broadcast producer, entertainer, greeter, Ghost Buster—Matt does it all with boundless exuberance every night. They definitely found the right guy for this job.
Jeff Katofsky and Jason Taylor, part of the Owlz ownership group: thanks for making us feel welcome.
Seen but not met (yet): Stephen C. Smith of “Future Angels” fame.
Jim, the Owlz official Hooter during the games (pictured below – Thanks for letting me snap your photo, Jim!).
Parents of David Carpenter. (Enjoyed getting to watch them watch their son)
Aunt Pam and Uncle Bill who belong to Mike Piazza (thanks for saving the newspaper for us, Aunt Pam! See you later in the chatroom.)

Ode to Owlz Host Families:

Son’s host family, the Dablings: Bart, Janice, Cody, Sienna, Chelsea, and Gentry. There’s no adequate way to express how much it means to us to know they are the special folks providing a home to son this summer. We brought them blueberries and homemade bread from the Provo Farmer’s Market, but will be forever trying to find better ways to show our thanks. (See Bart and Janice below)

For more on the this system of housing ball players new to the pros, read this article about the host family tradition.

Milestones:

• Seeing son’s face and batting average displayed on Jumbotron (top right corner is the Owl that he purportedly hit in batting practice one day).

• Being interviewed on TV for the first time about being the mom of a pro ball player. (Thank you Tracy: it wasn’t that painful after all and you have a bright career ahead!)

• Last and best, being treated to lunch by my son on his dime.

You can follow the Owlz on twitter and via their website.

I had finally resigned myself to a long term, perhaps permanent, work slowdown and was halfway into retirement planning when, the next week, my inbox delivered a slew of new projects.

I love, love, love my 5-year-old loan-free Tundra, but my personal energy efficiency czar (also known as my husband) is leaning on me to purchase a Prius.

While savoring every second of what may be my youngest child’s last year playing college baseball, my granddaughter is starting T-ball.

My affinity for baseball and trucks go way back…

• Sandlot baseball was my first sport and keeping up with all the neighborhood guys was great training for giving birth years later to three athletic sons. Since becoming a spectator in the intervening years, I’ve also put batting and infield practice time to good use, knitting huge quantities of socks, sweaters and baby blankets.
• My ride when first son was born was an old white Toyota pickup, which hauled all manner of sports gear, my knitting stuff and amazing garage sale finds, but which sufficed only as long as baby made three.

Watching my sons’ little league experiences over the past 20 years, I’ve been feeling wistful as the youngest one wraps up his collegiate career far from home. Taking me back across those two decades in the crack of the bat, my Bonus Daughter shared her first experience as the mom of a Tball player a couple of days ago:

“So we finally got the first practice in…my cheeks hurt when it was over from smiling for an hour straight (that, and it was like -20 outside). She certainly has “mad skills” compared to the other kiddos. She hit all 3 times at bat. I’d put her at #2 just behind her friend Jose who is quite the slugger (and whose grandpa played for the Cubs). The cutest was when everyone came in from the field and Coach Chris told them to sit down. He was on bended knee, Bug was the first one to get there so she looked around tentatively then knelt down herself as all he other kids came crashing in and plopped down on their butts. So there she was for the next 5 minutes with hands folded on her knee listening intently to Coach.”

That same little SlugBug asked yesterday if I would knit her a blue sweater.

So, where does that leave me?

If I keep working (and lucky am I to have work that I can do from any location), and go for the Prius, I can afford to visit those grown up kids of mine (and possibly drive to some minor league baseball games) whenever I want, despite the price of gas. And, if things get really tight, T-ball is only a couple blocks away for the next several months and I should have plenty of time to finish that little blue sweater.

Batter up.

Imagine my interest in discovering that at Sancet Stadium’s Kindall Field, the rowdy student section is populated by kids wearing “Hot Corner” tee shirts, and some in fake beards. When asked about the beards, we are told simply, “they are Beards for Baird.”

These fans have all kinds of hilarious material which they heap on both their Cats and on the opposition. Maybe not that hilarious if you are parked directly in front of them, but at a distance I think they are refreshingly entertaining.

I want to be a member of the “Hot Corner!” Can I go back to college for do-overs?! Or, can I just be a Hot Corner Mom? Where can I get a T-shirt and beard?

All of my other children have taken fairly conventional routes from high school on into the workforce. College or not, a few false starts, typical stuff.

Then, year ago, out of high school, our youngest son was drafted in the 25th round of the MLB Amateur Draft and became a member of the final class of draft-and-follows. This was big (and confusing!) news around our house so we began studying how it works over at High School Baseball Web, talking to coaches and others who’ve been there, and discussing with our son what he would like to see happen next. Very suddenly we had a child who was following a completely unconventional route into the next phase of life.

In the year that followed, he performed well in JUCO baseball, and also signed a National Letter of Intent to a solid Division 1 University, as an option in case he didn’t sign or didn’t want to return to Junior College.

Aside: if you’re still reading, you must be a baseball fan. If you are still reading and feel you need a glossary, thanks for following this story!

He reached a decision by early spring of 2007 that he would really like to sign and turn pro. He let the team that selected him know that, but for unknown reasons they never did sign him. It’s not that negotiations broke down (they never started) or that he had a greedy advisor/agent (he didn’t). An offer never came and that team’s rights expired seven days before this year’s Draft.

So for the week leading up to the 2007 Draft, he was free to be approached by other teams who might have interest in picking him up.

Bigger, stronger, more mature than a year ago, and ready to become a professional baseball player, he had indications from some camps that he looked like a 10th – 15th rounder this year. So, the second day of the draft dawned and, indeed he was drafted by a different team, this time in the 48th round.

Our family has analyzed this from all angles but we just don’t know how to interpret a 23 round slide. It might mean any of the following:

• You didn’t pan out as projected, so the MLB is still a little interested, but not so much.
• You set your price higher you’re worth, the MLB will take you if you want to try it, but we won’t be offering you any $.
• By not signing with the team that took you last year, MLB thought you were going to stay in college, so we took you on the off chance you do want to sign.
• Kids in JUCOs aren’t generally worth that much to MLB.
• Things happened behind the scenes that had nothing to do with your ability or projectability and that’s just the way it is.

We were surprised (and to be completely honest, let down) by the results, while at the same time grateful that one of the 30 professional teams comprising the MLB did select him. But from what we’ve read, late or last round picks aren’t expected to do much at the next level, so that message weighs heaviest on our minds.

Then we started thinking about all the kids we know who are great kids and terrific players who have never been drafted, and may never be. And the kids who were drafted last year but not signed and who were absent from the draft all together this year.

Going undrafted creates a pivotal moment in a young person’s life. It may inspire greater effort and success the next year, or the next, or it may just turn you in the direction you’re intended to head in this life.

The Infamous Remain Undrafted is an article over on the MLB official site that discusses this topic.

Five Waves Drafted by MLB is about how going undrafted after high school motivated one of this year’s 2nd round picks, Chad Tracy.

Forty-One Pac-10 Baseball Players Selected on the 2007 MLB Draft demonstrates that with enough hard work, the undrafted can win the prize, and that the drafted and redrafted can go up or down a lot in any given year, but still win in the end.

Jared Locke to pitch for Rangers organization tells about kid who fell completely off the boards and went undrafted due to a case of mistaken identity. (Don’t worry, this one has a happy ending!)

Finally, over on the site that has been our family’s greatest resource, there is a discussion going on called “son not drafted.” Read it for inspiration.

Hats off to all you hard working, humble baseball guys who play because you respect the game.

Peter Gammon’s column “Hunter is ‘who we all should strive to be’ ” is a must read if you. Since you can’t read it unless you have a subscription, here’s a synopsis.

At the end of batting practice in Florida this spring, Minnesota Twins Center Fielder Torri Hunter was finished and ready to be done for the day when he spotted three young Devil Rays players who both had been experiencing their share of self-induced troubles. Instead of heading on into the clubhouse, Hunter walked up to these players and introduced himself and shook their hands.

Gammons tells a little of Hunter’s backstory, explaining that he was a gang member while growing up, living in a drug-ridden family situation. Then Gammons says, “What was so striking is that here is Hunter, making $12 million, going out of his way to help three young players trying to learn to trust themselves in this environment.”

Hunter tells Gammons: “If I can help anyone, then I’ve done something worth while. Aren’t we all supposed to be that way?”

Where we live and work is our community. Torri Hunter’s example is one that can inform our efforts to be good human beings whether in our business dealings, our family, our volunteer work, or our simple, everyday encounters with strangers. Take a minute to really look into the heart of those in your sphere. In one small moment of engagement, we can make a difference.

As Hunter says about those three young men, “I don’t care what some people who don’t know them think about them. They are good people. Smart people-and can be great playaers. If they’re great players, they can do a lot f good for a lot of other people.”

In celebration of opening day being right around the corner, here is my personal list of favorite books on baseball, my favorite sport:

• 9 Sides of the Diamond, David Falkner
• Men at Work, by George Will
• Moneyball, the Art of Winning an Unfair Game, by Michael Lewis Michael’s site: http://literati.net/Lewis/index.htm
• The Game – One Man, Nine Innings, A Love Affair with Baseball, by Robert Benson Robert’s site: http://www.robertbensonwriter.com/
• Little League Confidential – One Coach’s Completely Unauthorized Tale of Survival, by William Geist and Bill Geist
• Mostly True – A Memoir of Family, Food, and Baseball, by Molly O’Neill Molly’s site: http://www.thirteen.org/molly/

You just have time to read one book before the season starts!

Aside: Baseball America (www.BaseballAmerica.com) offers subscriptions to their web content, though some of it is free to access. They also offer a twice monthly print publication. You won’t be able to read the article I’m referencing unless you have a subscription.

From an analytics standpoint, this is a great use for my favorite little electronic tool (toy). Check out your approach, your loft, your stance, see what happened when you grounded out or, worse, struck out. Then have a little conference with your hitting coach.

Beyond that it is also very cool. Who wouldn’t want to watch themselves knocking one out of the park over and over again, maybe with your favorite tunes playing?? I know I would.

The list of awesome things you can do to/with your iPod grows… read more of those here.

The pros report next week for Spring Training. Little Leaguers will soon get a phone call from this year’s managers, letting them to which team they’re assigned. High School boys in my town got good news or bad news this afternoon, as final cuts were announced, leaving some jubilant and others in tears. And across town from the high school, the home opener for the Yavapai College Roughriders took place yesterday.

This year my son is a Roughrider (don’t you love that team name?!). While watching his second and third home games of this pre-season period today, I learned that the little league field just north of the Yavapai College ball park is scheduled for conversion as the future home of the new Roughrider softball program, beginning in 2008.

I gazed over at that field remembering … all of my sons played on that field at one time or another when they were little guys, and that’s where I began my side gig as “team mom.” That field is part of a pair of diamonds used for years for little league baseball and adult rec softball, and its the location of little league opening ceremonies, which is quite a wonderful affair here in our town.

Those two fields were where you were likeliest to spot Bill Vallely, on of our areas biggest contributors to and supporters of little league. He was still managing teams when my oldest son started playing ball, but he was fixture in the stands by the time my youngest was out there at short and on the mound. Sadly, Bill passed away a few years ago. Today those fields are known as “Bill Vallely/Roughrider Sports Complex.”

Along with every other baseball fan in the area, I think about Bill a lot this time of year. He seemed to know every little leaguer’s name and followed their growth and maturity with great delight. He was a crusty guy who did not suffer fools, and who called it like he saw it, but he never failed to greet me with, “How’s the gal with the prettiest eyes in Raintree County?” I know he had a thousand such personalized greetings saved up for various folks, but MINE, referencing Elizabeth Taylor, made me both blush and beam.

I missed my son’s first home run with the wood bat, knocked out yesterday when I was laid up with the crud. But hearing about it, I could hear the crack, and remembered the first one he hit out at a tournament in Tempe, his first year on varsity, just three Februarys ago. Bill would have loved seeing that, as would my dad and my grandpa, neither of whom ever got to see these boys of mine play ball.

My personal love affair with baseball began fifty years ago when my grandpa began taking me to see minor league ball in Iowa, and the seat I pick out as an adult is based on his guidance those many years ago. Just the two of us, right there behind home.

Today, sitting in the usual spot, among parents, scouts and recruiting coaches, fighting off this “crud” and the fever that comes with it under a breezy partly blue/partly cloudy sky, I smiled, drank my coffee and gave thanks for the beginning of another year of baseball, even if February does feel a little early to be starting!

On my way to Chicago Midway after a short weekend trip to Chicago, we rolled down the windows to snap a couple of quick pictures for the family on that drizzly cold day. But, Oh My! You could say the entire city was under a cloud of smoky bratworst. My brother (barely seen in photo) used the word “redolent,” but I can’t go that far to describe brats we smelled grilling. What a fragrant memory – Yum!

I did not travel there to see the game, though in fact I did see most of the first half at the airport, and got updates throughout my flight back to Arizona. These travel plans were made long before anyone even knew this would be a championship matchup on Jan. 21. My kids think I’m a chump, I’m sure, but I wasn’t really in Chicago for da Bears, anyway.

Our small immediate family has what we call a “clownfest” once or twice a year. Essentially we gather for laughs and nothing of great import transpires. Our mom oftens shows up with an Atomic Cake to commemorate the occasion. If you have no ties to ChicagoLand, you won’t get it, but here’s a picture of this year’s Clown Fest Atomic Cake.

Most of the time these days, one’s travel and vacations do not have to interrupt one’s professional availability. For once, however, I did not do any work on the road. Instead I completely enjoyed the chance to see my brothers and mom, and got to teach my nieces how to knit, between bites of cake, that is!

In our desire to be reached any time anywhere, we may lose that very important ability to connect fully with family while we are with them. It’s a struggle to unplug, but so worthwhile. Try it every once in awhile!

Perspective wise, you should know I am straight and a mom of a bunch of athletic kids. And, I have non-jock friends that I love dearly, too, but there’s just something really special about jock friends.

Here’s my list of reasons why girl jocks make for great friendships:

1. They understand and engage in healthy competition.
2. They do not gossip.
3. They are naturally beautiful as a result of living an active life. I don’t personally know any who are “enhanced” surgically or chemically. This is not to say they don’t know how to fix their hair and makeup – they just don’t make a big deal out of it and are definitely low-maintenance.
4. They are casual in appearance most of the time, even though they like to get all girlie on special occasions.
5. They don’t give you the once- or twice-over, appraising look when you greet them that some women use as a way of wielding power. That’s because they are so genuine and happy to see you that they don’t give a rip about your hair or makeup or clothes.
6. They are creative – several of my best jock girlfriends are knitters like me.
7. They don’t whine and take all day to make decisions.
8. They are loyal friends through thick and thin, whether or not you’ve actually played a sport along side of them.
9. They are remarkable role models for younger women and girls.

Here’s to some of my favorite girl jocks: Susy, Sue D., Casey G., Christy. You’re the best.

About Baseball
Coach Kids Sports
Suicide Fan: We’re Die Hard Sports Fans
The View From the Bleachers – Reporting Cubs Baseball Since 2003

About the ramifications of being a fulltime VA (meaning having extra curves)
Full Figure Plus
Time to Get Fit

About yummy things
My Korean Kitchen

About technology and gadgets
Ledgeio: We know stuff, and we want you to know stuff, too.
Bella Web Design, A Business Blog by Sesiree Scales

About business
Funny Business – A Blog about Business Culture

About work/life balance
Success From the Nest

About blogging
Daily Blog Tips

About … not sure, but I like it!
Pick the Brain – Applied Intelligence for Motivated Learners
engtech

Darren (the ProBlogger) encouraged all who submitted to the project then take a cruise through all the other submissions, and start conversing with and linking to those that resonated… That’s the brilliance of this project.

In spending a couple of hours doing just that, I found out what a day in the life of a pro-blogger must be like AND found great new content that I want to keep track of. The conundrum is that if I sit here and read and talk all day, I’ll just keep racking up the unwanted pounds and never talk to my husband! Sigh.

But, thanks, Darren, for a great activity! I’ll be watching for the next round.

Last winter I took a month off (as mentioned elsewhere in this blog). I won’t rehash the reasons, benefits, etc., other than to say: I held onto my clients and I earned more than I had the previous year.

Not that the experiment qualifies as an actual study, but it reinforced the practice for me and I am doing it again this year, starting in FIVE DAYS!

I predict that I will do several specific projects during my hiatus.

1. I have figured out that as blogging becomes more my means of exploring and developing my business, I am contributing to my original website far less. Eventually the rankings on the latter will surely suffer, just as the reverse may be true of my blogging site. I project that I won’t be the only blogger considering the role played by both sites over the course of this year, and that I will have devised some different approaches by 2008.

2. I plan to conduct a feasibility study. This will entail painstaking examination how the family of Lastings Milledge (professional baseball player, if you don’t know) manages to follow their son around in an RV during his season. Now THAT sounds like something that SHOULD be in my business plan!

Elucidating here: our youngest son was drafted by a MLB team last June and it seems that by June of 2007 he may have signed a contract and left behind college baseball for that other realm, the one countless boys dream of their entire lives. As his #1 fan I am ready to test whether I can be a Virtual Assistant while following my son’s baseball season, be it in the minors or — gasp! — in the “Show.”

The Milledges make it work by living in a 32-foot camper during Lastings’ season. I don’t have enough set aside to replicate their lifestyle, but a girl can dream.

3. Take another stab at the novel that I outlined last winter.

4. Knit to my heart’s delight.

5. Haul out my Gramma’s recipe file and make a different cake every week.

If I am as refreshed and enthusiastic about work when I return to it on January 26, I will see if I can’t figure out a way to take my show on the road for 6 months out of the year, just like the Milledges. All I have to do is envision it and, of course, write it into my business plan!

By the way, Darren Rouse has a great project for all you bloggers right now in the current version of the ProBlogger Group Writing Project – Reviews and Predictions. You can participate if you hurry!

You just write a post like this – a summary of your year or prediction of things-to-come, or whatever, and submit your post to the Group Writing Project.

This time around it ends on December 21, 2006, so get writing!

Then, when we were 9 or 10, one of our friend’s dads organized a little traveling girls’ softball team. We were the Cardinals: our uniform was cutoff jeans, white button shirts with a felt cutout of a cardinal pinned on our chest. That lasted until we were 13 and our family moved away.

Across the miles and years, there have been many other experiences with the diamond: Varsity Girls’ softball at the American School in Manila, pick up softball on Sunday afernoons in Tempe during college, a great team in South Phoenix (where my skin color made me a standout, regardless of my playing ability!), women’s rec league once I was an adult, coed rec league and then I became a permanent spectator.

I morphed into soccer-mom, little-league-mom, youth league basketball-mom, high school sports-mom. Through it all, baseball was my favorite sport to play and watch, so I was really sad when my older two children left the diamond behind.

Now, through a cruel trick of time, I am checking off the few remaining games in my youngest son’s high school baseball career. In my car, year round, are camp chairs, stadium chairs, an extra blanket, umbrella, water bottles and sunscreen. On game days, I am armed with my Treo, on which I have a great scorekeeping program (so as to stay focused on the game and not get seduced into idle chatter). I observe the diamond, glittering in the sun, from my spot in the bleachers, rather than my old spot on 2nd or 1st base.

We live about two hours away from the nearest pro team, but I imagine I’ll spend future years watching the high school and local Junior College team long after son #3 has moved into the next phase of his own life.

For now, watching him, I am transported back to endless games of catch with my Grandpa, and those makeshift diamonds we made out of little patches of grass and pieces of cardboard. I don’t wear any diamonds in my ears or on my finger. The diamonds I love and can’t live without are made of grass and surrounded by a fence.