There was nothing more painful for me as a child than having to sit through endless little league games in the summer. While my father coached, my brothers played, and my mother chatted with other mothers, I roamed the grassy area around the field attempting to ward off boredom. It never worked, and I usually ended up getting into something I wasn’t supposed to. On one occasion I think I even persuaded another kid to eat a flower, claiming that they were “edible”. The only hope I held throughout the game was a coveted trip to Dairy Queen. My father would take his team (and me) to DQ if they won (and occasionally if they didn’t win) and I clung to the possibility of it for what seemed like eternity. Around the final inning, I would hang on the fence of the dugout and call to my dad through the dust and ask, “Are we going to Dairy Queen!?” Selfishly, I only rooted for them to win so I could have my ice cream cone.
Yesterday I photographed the West Seattle Little League Finals against the A’s and the National’s. If the A’s lost they were out. But, they managed to beat the favored Nationals and as they ran toward the dugout and cheered, I had a little flashback. This time it was just nice to see some boys win. It’s also nice to know that win or lose, I can now drive myself to Dairy Queen.
