The One with Easter and Opening Day

Guess who's excited about Easter and Opening Day being on the same day?

"As Jesus rose again, so did another season of baseball."

Actual quote from Coach there.

This is my life, people.

But seriously, we love Jesus, and we love baseball. Today is awesome.

I love my boys of summer. And Coach. He knows his baseball pants are the reason I married him. 

Always true words of advice.

My life at the moment. And forever and ever. 

Truth. Can't leave out truth on Easter. 

So there you have it. Easter and Opening Day. 

Amen and amen. 

Fall Sport Preview - The Coach's Wife Version

So by now you all know that if M isn't coaching something, chances are he's probably dead.

Or driving me bananas lamenting the fact that he's not coaching anything and how he could be doing baseball workouts and designing plays and doing whatever it is he does with stats and working on the field in the baseball pre-season so it's perfectly perfect for the actual baseball season.

Sigh.

So I'm actually kind of happy that this new school had an opportunity for him to be involved in fall sports.

In the past, if his school didn't offer fall baseball, his fall sport of choice revolved around coaching boy's basketball at the jr. high level or assisting at the high school level.

Not this year, my friends.

This year - this beautiful fall in south Florida - he's taken on a new role.

Head high school girl's golf.

Yes. He now gets to - in his words - "Go out every day after school and get paid to play a round of golf."

Do you feel sorry for him that basketball wasn't available?

Don't you dare. The PGA Headquarters are about 15 minutes away, and apparently Tiger Woods has been spotted on one of the area courses since we've been here. Ethics-police-he's-not aside, that's pretty cool.

M's not suffering on some little rural course that was designed by gophers. He's getting some sweet pro-course exposure.

But there's one little thing that I wasn't aware of until we moved down here.

Florida gets a regular afternoon thunderstorm just about every day, usually around 3:30 pm. I've almost been able to set my watch by them. Now I'm one of those people who love thunderstorms - from my house, in my pajamas, reading a good book.

Not standing out at the Vero Beach Country Club waiting for the rain to stop so the tourney could get it's little show on the road.

Waiting for the rain to clear. We're the ones in the bright orange.

I need to re-take up golf just for the cute skirts. I can do it. I even have the second-place trophy from my junior golf tourney at the good old Sullivan Country Club to prove it. I think I could have been a 12-year-old golf prodigy in the making...until I discovered I hated all things sports and preferred the piano. 

Then I married a coach.

So stepping up to the plate and being the awesome coach's wife that I am, (sorry. I didn't mean to drip with that much sarcasm. It just kinda came rushing out.) I found myself riding along a rain-soaked course to watch these girls in action. 

I even got to drive the cart for about three feet. M does not like to relinquish control of the race car golf cart.

I can't believe he let me ride in the cart with him. Golf season is definitely more relaxed than baseball season - you know, when I can't talk to him because he's in his baseball uniform and it's not professional and he's working and has to focus. ***Enter screaming at the umpire here****

So golf turned out to be really fun. Sunshine (eventually), a gorgeous course, and five girls who were out there having fun and kicking Sebastian's butt. 

Like I mentioned...gorgeous Florida golf courses. I'm still getting used to seeing palm trees everywhere. 

Three teams competed - Vero Beach, Sebastian, and us - Lincoln Park Academy. LPA is pretty exclusive, and the parents of these students are super-involved. I was surprised to see that all the parents showed up to the tourney, rented golf carts and followed along. After being at schools where many of the parents never seem to show up, it was really great to see all the support and encouragement. 

We ended up taking second in the tourney, and Coach was ok with that. I've never seen him so laid-back and relaxed, encouraging the girls and offering tips and coaching advice when a ball was hit in the water or in the rough, telling them that as long as they were trying their best, working on their skills and having fun it was ok. 

If I didn't value my life so much, I'd gleefully remind him of that come baseball season. 

Today I love: Lunch after a great church service with great friends and the feeling of accomplishment from getting back into my running workouts this afternoon. 

The Big 200

Let's do some math.

I know. You're in shock. Me? Math? I'm the girl who runs screaming from numbers and those evil operations that make them multiply or divide.

I'm the girl who to this day, cannot balance a checkbook.

But I promise. This math will be fun. 

Let's start by taking a barely-turned-33-year-old.

Add in 11 years of high school varsity baseball seasons.

Subtract the blood (literally), sweat and tears that have gone into all 11 of those seasons.

Add in a cross-country move to the deep south where baseball starts in February and lasts until someone forces you off the field by turning off the lights.

Combine that with this past Saturday's baseball game against Prentiss with North Forrest winning 16-3, and what do you have?

A 200th career win for MW.

He hates to make a big deal about things, hates taking credit, hates having the spotlight on him.

But 200 wins under your belt? It's something to be proud about.

So, in keeping with the fabulous tradition of wives embarrassing their husbands, I had a little award made that now sits proudly on our kitchen table.

Buried in junk mail. Dog treats. To-do lists. Newspapers. Three purses.

I obviously need to clean the kitchen table. And possibly get rid of some purses.

In any case, Saturday was a day for celebration. The team needed the boost of a win, and we needed an excuse to go out with friends.

Bops and laser tag were included in the celebration. Not kidding.

(Sugar hangover and sore calves from crouching behind walls so I could shoot my husband - this 30-something had a hard time getting up for church the next morning.)

Congrats, Coach Walters on your 200 milestone. It's been an adventuresome 11 years by your side, first as a Baseball Girlfriend, now as a Baseball Wife.

That being said, as a Baseball Wife, I've gleaned several tidbits of knowledge over the years:

• There will always be cleat marks in the carpet.
• Dirt clumps tracked through the kitchen.
• Red dirt and green grass...whoever thought white baseball pants were a good idea needs to have their head examined. Good thing MW does all the laundry.
• Nights where you don't get home from coaching a game until after midnight and still managed to get up at 6am to go teach young (hyper, hormonal) minds.
• Baseball widowhood from February until May. Or June. Or July, depending on your summer baseball plans. 
• Vacations revolve around Omaha and the College World Series.
• Watching "The Sandlot" over and over and over. And over.
• A line-drive to the thigh will leave baseball stitch impressions on your leg for weeks.
• Doing my own thing so I don't turn into one of those whiny, dependent wives who always asks, "When are you going to be hoooommmmeeee??? Don't you miiiiissssss meeeeeee??" 
• Weekend tournament sunburns are a given. So are flip-flop tan lines.
• More baseball team t-shirts than I know what to do with.
• Sunday afternoons are for mowing the baseball field. And dragging the baseball field. And stats. Lots and lots of stats.
• Staying up doing team laundry in hotel rooms during away tournaments. Never underestimate the power of multiple bottles of Spray n' Wash.
• Knowing that as of the first day of baseball season (and quite possibly the weeks leading up to it), any time I try to talk to you you will have a glazed look in your eyes...and I will know you are secretly running baseball stats and plays through your head as we carry on a conversation.

"The road to 300 starts now!" was heard as we pulled out of the laser tag parking lot Saturday night.

Glad to be along for the ride.