My first baseball season with my stepson was spent as merely a spectator. I saw in him the potential to be a good Little League ball player. Any Little League parent will tell you the joys of tee ball. At this level "baseball" is sometimes at a minimum, but fun is always at a maximum. Imagine fourteen ballplayers between the ages of five and seven, all learning how to play the game at the same time. It is a very entertaining game, and the players make it that way. This level is the beginning of their baseball education, and it is important that they be well educated. At this point, I realized that I didn't want to be just a spectator any more. It was great fun to watch, but I had a major desire to participate. This desire has never gone away.

Our second season of baseball was my first as a coach. I don't claim to be an expert in baseball, but I thought I could help teach these young players the game. As it turned out, I probably learned as much as the players did. Most importantly, I learned the value of encouragement. A pat on the back and a "good job" means a lot to these kids. I always tried to say something positive, even when the result was negative. For example, if a player would strike out, they would hear something like "You struck out this time, but you looked good doing it". My relationship with my stepson was great that season. He got a new sister that year and we learned that we could work together. This was his first year of hitting a moving baseball, and his first year playing catcher. A lot of young ballplayers are afraid of being hit by that moving ball, and it does hurt if it hits you. My son's years of catching would take away his fear of being hit, since the catcher is hit all the time, especially when the pitcher is only eight or nine years old. Another benefit of playing catcher for my son was the fact that he had to work hard. Young pitchers are sometimes very wild with their throws, so the catcher has to chase down a lot of wild pitches. I realized how much I enjoyed working with these boys and didn't want the season to end.

The next Little League season was the most trying for both of us to that point. In the fall between seasons, we moved from Frederick County, Virginia, where my son had lived all his life, to Berkeley County, West Virginia, where I had grown up. He was the new kid. One day as my wife and I were driving past his school during their recess, we saw him walking alone, away from all the other children. I had never moved as a child so had no idea what it was like being the new kid, but I felt for him.

By baseball season, I was ready to go at it again, but I think my son had second thoughts, so I decided that I would coach again. That way he had at least one person on his team that he knew. I was able to be the acting manager of the team for more than half its games that year. That meant that I was in control of who played where and when. I also saw how hard it is to be impartial to your own kids in a group of them, and how you tend to be more demanding of your own. We had our disagreements on the field and in the dugout. However, my son was the star of the team, and began to make friends.

In his second year as a catcher, he became a team leader, and showed that when the team needed someone to step forward and hit the ball in a critical situation, he was the person you wanted at the plate. Also, at age nine, he attracted some attention from the next level, which he would have to try out for the following season. We lost two thirds of the games we played, but everyone had fun. An indication of how well the team is managed is the number of parental complaints. During the entire season, there was not one complaint from a parent. Everyone was satisfied with his or her child's playing time.

When the season was over, we treated ourselves to the first of what is an annual vacation at North Carolina's Outer Banks. The 1996 Little League season began in a sea of uncertainty for both father and son. Ten-year-olds are required to try out for Little League. This level of play is "Prime Time" in Little League. This is the level of the Little League World Series in Williamsport, PA in August. It is also the level where play begins to be very competitive. After trying out and being drafted, my son attended his first practice. At this practice we were told that the team needed only one player, so nine of the prospective players would be playing for a different team. My son was one of the nine. The phone call came telling us that he had been cut from that team. The very next day, another call came from the Pirates, saying that they wanted him to try out with them. One week before the final cuts were to be made, we hesitantly went to practice. At the end of the week, he was officially a Little League Pirate. This meant that my son, as a ten-year-old, would be playing at a level dominated by twelve-year-olds. The difference in baseball ability between most ten and twelve-year-olds is substantial. At this point, we had to face two things, I would not be a coach on my son's team, and he would probably do his share of sitting on the bench.

Fate stepped in at this point. The team was loaded with ten-year-olds. Of the twelve players on the team, seven were ten-year-olds. This meant that playing time would be easier to get, when it was earned. However, the first two weeks of the season saw my son playing the minimum requirement in each game. Knowing what he was capable of, I went to one of the coaches, and asked what we could work on at home to get more playing time. We followed his advice. It meant that I had to summon up my long lost baseball skills. Since we have quite a large lawn, evenings were spent hitting fly balls and pitching.

After two years as a catcher, my son was now an outfielder. We worked on building up his confidence in the outfield. I could see in his eyes when the pitcher released the ball: "Please don't hit it to me." He struggled at the plate for the first time ever. So we worked at home, we practiced with the team, and we worked at home some more. Finally, in the fourth week of the season, came his first hit. The first was followed by more and more. There was a time that season when my son, a "rookie" player, carried his team. During the second half of that season, he came to bat nine times with the bases loaded, and eight times a run scored. His confidence increased dramatically in the outfield, as that "Please don't hit it to me" look disappeared.

Closing day approached, and we had planned our family vacation for the following week. We weren't tired of baseball, just looking forward to a vacation. When all your plans are made and everything is all set up, expect the unexpected. At our league's closing ceremonies, the all-star teams were announced. We had talked about the team, but had pretty much decided that his slow start would cost him a spot. However, when the team was announced, my son was one of the fourteen players selected. Now, what do we do about vacation? The decision was his, he could go with us, he could stay with someone at home, or we could all stay. It was decided we would go and he would stay, and we could come back home two days early.

All-star tournaments are a funny thing. Pressure is very evident, as is competitiveness. Teams play until they lose two games. Our league has had little success in all-star tournaments. In fact, most of the time our teams play two and go home. This all-star team did one better; they won a game in between their two losses. After the last game of the all-star tournament, we went home, went out into the yard, and started throwing the ball in preparation for the next season. The amazing comeback from benchwarmer to all-star really helped start a true father/son relationship. We no longer work against each other, we do things together.

This baseball season began with big expectations. My son's team, which had been the doormat of the league last year, was expected to be one of the two or three best teams in the league. They did not disappoint anyone. They won nineteen of twenty-four games and finished in second place. Three of their losses were to the eventual first-place team in the league. My son stepped up and was one of the star players on the team, and one of the top eleven-year-old players in the league.

He was not removed from the game because of poor defensive skills. Opposing coaches and managers have called him a model outfielder. His eyes say "Hit the ball to me" when he's in his outfield position. As expected, he was again named to the all-star team. Although they were eliminated from the tournament on July 16 of this year, they were a successful team. My son had a very good year and was rewarded by being a starter on the all-star team, and batted in the clean-up position, a spot reserved for one of the team's best four hitters. He did deliver in the tournament, scoring a run every time he got on base. I spent my season as a scorekeeper and member of the local League's Board of Directors.

As we head into the fall baseball season, we look forward to continued success. No matter what happens in the future, my son and I have the experiences we've shared together through Little League baseball. We have the knowledge that through our experiences, we've overcome the difficulties of stepfather/stepson relationships and developed the love and the friendship of a father/son relationship. I am no longer coach, but just Dad, which is all I wanted to be. We have learned how important winning can be, but more importantly, in the tradition of the Little League pledge, we've learned the importance of the last phrase of the pledge: "win or lose, I will always do my best".