I'm not as tough as an eight year old

Last night was Moon-o's debut as starting pitcher. He's been practicing for weeks. Working on his form in the backyard, making sure his left foot steps backward just the right amount before stepping forward to launch the ball. His pitching is methodical. You can see the gears turning in his head at each and every step of the throw, from the wind-up all the way through to his finger pointing where he wants the ball to go. He's a thinker, my Moon. He may not have the killer instincts of a natural athlete, but if it's something that involves process and planning, he can learn the hell out of it.

And last night, all the practice paid off. Sort of.

Moon got to pitch. He walked the first batter, hit the second batter, and started to get flustered. One kid hit a pop fly and was out. The runner on first didn't tag up, and should have been called out, but wasn't. So, with one out and two runners on base and the beginnings of tears in his eyes, Moon proceeded to walk the entire team. Fortunately, the league only allows one time through the roster for each inning. His coach let him stay in and walk the entire roster.

Bottom of the first. Opposing team up 8-0, all walks. He was mad, he was frustrated, he threw his mitt, but the kid didn't cry. Not one single tear.

Which is more than I can say for his mother.

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