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Baseball In April Is Pure Hell. Except Hell is Sooooo Much Warmer.

There’s nothing more American than baseball. And I’m American, so I love going to baseball games. I love watching my kids play. And I have so many happy memories of my Dad taking us to White Sox games, where we kept score even though there was a scoreboard.

My memories always include one thing. Warmth. Baseball was a sport meant to be played during summer months. Not in April. April is no where near summer.

Let’s start with the White Sox home opener. I work in walking distance to Sox Park. But you couldn’t have paid me to go to that game. For the record, that was still March, but it was freaking snowing. Um no. Not ta-day.

Lucky for me, my cousin lives across the street from my school and was having a pre-game BBQ. So I got to run over on my lunch and eat and then come back to my toasty warm classroom. Everyone was like, oh it’s a shame you have to go back to work. I was like, yeah a real damn shame.

That one was easy to miss out on. What is not easy to ditch are my own kids games. Especially the ones I’m coaching.

To add insult to injury, we still have volleyball season going on. Baseball and volleyball overlap. It’s so adorable how that happens. Because one sport at a time just isn’t enough.

But in April I’m all about volleyball. You should see Beau and I fighting over who gets to go to the volleyball games. Inside a hot gym. With concession stands and hot food. Dinner’s ready kids.

A warm bathroom. Everyone is so happy and friendly. God I love volleyball. In April.

And when volleyball games run long? Even better. Overtime just adds to the excitement. I could sit there for days. Not so much with the April Baseball.

I am coaching my daughter’s softball team. She’s nine. So are the other kids on the team. The outfits they give these kids to wear are adorable. If it was freaking July.

Sleeveless shirts? In April? April is the new February. If I sent my kid outside in a sleeveless shirt in February someone would call DCFS on me. Again.


Their season opener was the other day. I did not get to go to the balmy volleyball game that night. I have an obligation to this team. That I take extremely seriously.

I had to coach these girls who care more about their freaking cheers than they do about the game. And by coach I mean, send witty emails as to when the practices are and compliment the kids when they wear a headband that matches their softball outfit.

Here are a few of the mind-numbing chants that they relentlessly scream over and over for two hours.

She stole on you. She stole on you. While you were picking your nose, she was up on her toes. Yeah, she stole on you. Yeah, she stole on you. Repeat.

I know what you’re thinking. Pretty clever, right? Not after three years of coaching.

Hey first baseman! Hey first baseman! Can you break it down like Micheal Jackson? Shake your booty like Britney Spears? Wave your hands like Salt N’ Pepper? Run as fast as the gingerbread man? I don’t think so. I don’t think so. Repeat.

I actually liked this one. The first 800 times I heard it.

We’re the Razorbacks and you know what we got? What do we got? We got a team that’s hotter than hot. Repeat.

They should add another line to this one. Except we’re not. We are not actually hotter than hot. We’re actually freaking freezing out here.

(Leader) Ball, Ball, Ball
(Team) Goodeye
(Leader) Ball, Ball, Ball
(Team) Goodeye
(Leader) Ball, Ball, Ball, Ball, Ball, Ball, Ball
(Team) Goodeye
(Leader) Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye
(Team) Ball
(Leader) Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye
(Team) Ball
(Leader) Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye, Goodeye
(Team) Ball

This is the one that nightmares are made of. It is hands down the most painful sound your ears will ever be subjected to.

We will. We will. Rock you down. Shake you up. All volcanoes will erupt. We’re the Razorbacks here to stay. We’re gonna rock you night and day. So fasten your seat belts. Step on the gas. Cause we’re gonna knock you on your…

All right. That’s enough children. Keep it clean. Curse words are reserved for the coaching staff only.

If only they grasped the fundamentals of softball the way they memorized chants. Then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But they don’t. Not even close.

Oh you’ll miss these days, they say.

It goes by way too fast, they say.

Actually nothing goes by slower than a 9 year-old softball game when it’s 40 degrees and I’m freezing my softballs off. Nothing.

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