Teaching my daughter how to catch and throw
The thrill of stepping on the field again isn't one I expected to relive through the bright, eager eyes of my own child. Yet, here we are, a mitt in one hand, a ball in the other, and a heart full of memories from my own playing days.
As a former player, the return to the diamond has been nothing short of nostalgic. The crack of the bat, the smell of fresh dirt, and the echo of cheers had always lingered in the back of my mind. But this season is different; it's not about my past experiences or the games I played. It's about my child, stepping timidly onto the field, gripping a softball, and looking up to me for guidance.
The first lesson was simple: throwing. We started with the basics—how to hold the ball. "Place your fingers along the seams," I instructed, showing her how the ball should sit comfortably in her hand, just like it used to in mine. The connection between a player and their ball is sacred; it's where every play begins.
Next, we moved on to stance. I demonstrated how to stand sideways relative to your target, feet shoulder-width apart. "This gives you balance and power," I explained. Watching her mimic my stance was a mirror to my past, a reflection filled with anticipation and excitement.
Teaching her to throw brought a blend of emotions. Each toss was a learning curve, and not every throw made it straight or far. But with each attempt, her throws became steadier, stronger. The joy in her eyes after making a good throw made every moment of patience worth it.
"Great job! See, you're getting better with every throw," I cheered. Positive reinforcement was key. Remembering my early days, the encouragement from my coaches and parents fueled my passion and growth in the sport. Now, as a parent, I aimed to be that source of support.
Perhaps the most exhilarating part of this journey has been sharing the sport that shaped so much of who I am with my child. Each practice, each throw, each little victory with her not only teaches her about softball but also strengthens our bond.
As we continued to practice, I shared stories from my playing days—of victories, of losses, and of the incredible teamwork. It brought our worlds together, connecting her budding experience with my seasoned one.
As the sun set over our local field after our practice, a sense of contentment settled over me. This was more than just teaching her to throw a ball—it was about passing on a legacy, sharing a passion, and watching a new player fall in love with the game, just as I had years ago.
To other parent-coaches out there embarking on this journey with your child, remember this: the joy isn't just in the skills they learn but in the moments you share. Whether they continue playing for years or just this season, these memories will last a lifetime, both for you and for them.
So, grab a ball and a mitt, and step onto the field. There's no greater joy than sharing what you love with the ones you love most. Let's play ball!
