I have three sons, referred to as oldest son, middle son and youngest son. They are 11, 8 and 6, although by the end of May they will be 12, 9 and 6. Not only that, by the end of the month I’ll be another year into “middle age”.
As I write this, I am sitting at a local baseball game watching oldest son and his team play. He is playing 3rd base, which he doesn’t get to do too often. His coach usually puts him into center field since he has a really good arm and accuracy to get the ball back into the infield in one toss. However, as most boys his age, he would rather play in the infield where all the action is.
First inning, oldest son is covering 3rd base. No outs and runner on first and second. Fast ground ball to third. He scoops it up, touches 3rd base then throw a line drive to first for a double play. I beam with pride. Next batter hits a pop foul over to the third base side. Oldest son runs over and makes the catch, almost. It went into his mitt but he over ran the ball and he fell down and the ball fell out of his mitt. It didn’t matter. I got on the phone and called the good wife who is working tonight and explain the play.
The game is at the bottom of the third inning and tied at 1-1. This moment made me reflect on the pride of a father. There are a lot of things that make a father proud of his sons, from something as simple as showing respect to others to doing their best in whatever endeavor they take on.
I’ll admit that I’m not a “baby” father. I don’t get into babies that lay there and don’t interact with you. I also am not particularly fond of the stink and mess that babies tend to create, most of the time at the most inopportune moment. I am much more enjoying my boys as they are now older and we can do boy activities, from exploring the woods behind our house to swimming down at the river. No matter what, I will always love my boys, like only a father can.