proper size for what we were trying to accomplish.
When I turned to leave, Hans stood directly in front of me with another T-ball bat for himself. Although he was almost two years younger than Nigel, he was big for his age and they were often confused as being twins. The bat’s size fit him well.
“Can I get one too, Dad?”
“Definitely, Hansy boy, let’s get going.”
He smiled and walked next to his big brother carrying his new bat all the way to the cashier.
After dinner, Nigel and I watched a film on batting techniques. We talked about our approach to improving his game and agreed on a plan.
Hans had been asleep for quite a while by the time I finished reading to his brother in bed.
“We can do this, right Dad?” My oldest son looked at me with hope in his eyes.
“There is no doubt in my mind, Nigel, you just have to believe it.”
CHAPTER 7
The Number 100
I climbed out of the car to begin my day at the office on Tuesday morning. I noticed dark clouds on the horizon and considered how a hard rain would probably lead to the cancellation of Nigel’s evening baseball practice. By noon, my suspicion developed into reality. He met me at the door with bat and glove in hand when I arrived at the house after work.
“Practice is canceled, Dad.”
“I know, Buddy. Let’s see what we can do.”
Hans sat at the dinner table dunking an Oreo cookie in his half-empty glass of milk.
“No practice for Nigel tonight, Dad,” he said between bites of his dripping delight.
“Yes, he told me, Hansy boy. Have you had dinner yet? Is that dessert?”
Mary Lynn answered for him when she entered from the laundry room. She gave me a kiss saying, “I fed them early in case you had any plans. I guess the fields are soaked, and they don’t want to damage them. We ate already and your food is staying warm in the oven.”
“Thanks, Babe. I thought I would take the boys over to the batting cages and see if they are open tonight. “Nigel, why don’t you grab your gear bag and we will head out in a few minutes.”
Hans finished his last cookie as Nigel disappeared down the hall. Mary Lynn sat with me, and we discussed our day’s activities.
It was not long before the boys and I were pulling into the gravel parking lot for the outdoor batting cages. The lights were on, but no one was hitting balls. We were the sole car in the parking lot.
“Are you guys open?” I inquired of the attendant.
“Not really,” he responded. “The pitching machines have problems with wet balls and are not consistent with the pitches. I’m sorry. You can try again tomorrow night.”
I turned around to see Nigel staring at me from the front seat of the car. His eyes were trying to be optimistic. His brother was tapping his bat ever so lightly on his own head, while testing its durability against his skull. I looked back at the attendant and asked, “Can I rent the cage for a while? We have our own balls and I just want to do a hand-toss batting technique. We won’t need the machines at all; I only need the cage. I will pay you five dollars for every thirty minutes if that’s good with you. We shouldn’t be more than an hour and a half.”
I could see he was considering my offer.
“Okay,” he replied. “I have some work to do anyway. That should be fine. You keep your baseballs in the car, and I will get mine out of the machine for you to use. Please be careful and don’t get hit.” He smiled and went to open the lock on the chain-link door.
Soon, Nigel was standing at the rubber home plate, which lay on the concrete floor of the batting cage. Hans had asked if he could help the attendant collect stray balls from the other cages and was now running around on his stitched leather Easter Egg hunt. I sat in my folding chair, positioned ninety degrees to Nigel’s home plate. I was duplicating a technique from one of the videotapes I had watched.
Basically, I would lightly hand toss a ball straight up over the plate while Nigel waited with his bat pulled back, ready to swing. For him, it would be one forward motion in an effort to simplify his movement and develop good form. He also needed to get accustomed to the new bat and gloves.
It all worked to perfection.
Because of the light-weight T-ball bat, Nigel had great control with excellent bat speed. He hardly missed a single ball of the first thirty I tossed. We took our time and concentrated on stance, wrist action, and a level swing. We eventually progressed to hip motion, a full follow through, and keeping his eyes on the ball through contact. It was magical. I could see his confidence increasing with each pitch. A smile came to his face and he was having fun playing baseball again. By the end of the second set of thirty balls, he had developed a very smooth, much more relaxed swing. Muscle memory was beginning to take over and it seemed he could not miss.
“After this one, let’s take a break, Nige,” I said and removed the last ball from the bucket at my side. “Grab the water Mom packed for us so we can have a drink.”
Nigel hammered the final ball and went to get our refreshments. Hans was busy walking step for step with his new machine-attendant friend. He was much more interested in this novel adventure than in baseball. No worries, at his age there would be plenty of opportunity in his future to be more serious about sports. Sometimes, just being a kid is most important.
Nigel returned from the car with the thermos and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of me. I got out of my chair and joined him on the wet concrete. We talked. We laughed. I tickled him. He pulled my hat down. It was absolutely the best ten minutes of my week. We finished up the night hitting the final forty balls to complete one hundred for the evening. That immediately became Nigel’s new goal.
“Can we hit a hundred balls every night, Dad?”
I could never have imagined the impact of that statement. The number 100 would have unbelievable significance in his future goals: 100 sit-ups, 100 push-ups, 100 kicks of the soccer ball, 100 catches of the football, 100 practice baseball pitches, 100 laps in a go-kart, 100% on any test in every subject at school. It would define who he was and be the basis for a lifelong work ethic. It was marvelous. It also became the moment we began to confirm that with hard work and dedication there was nothing we couldn’t accomplish together.
That evening, after our nighttime routine, Hans lay under the covers and asked, “Did you see me and George fixing the machines to get ready for tomorrow, Dad?”
“I sure did, Buddy, it looked like you were a big help!”
Hans nodded in agreement and rolled over to face his stuffed panda bear.
Nigel was quiet as I rubbed his head and softly sang to them. When I finished, he looked up at me and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
The words went straight to my soul. There was simply no better feeling. I paused to look into my young son’s eyes and considered
