Thanksgiving

We used to go to my in-laws for Thanksgiving, then they started coming to us. As of yesterday, we started going to Clare’s. You go with the changes, or get left behind by them. My daughter was pretty much a whirling dervish, so I tried not to get in the way. Her son, on the other hand, insisted on his right to get in everyone’s way, which made for pint-sized chaos this room and that. It wasn’t until dinner and dessert had been served that I asked, “Did you hear about the girl who made the baseball team at Brown?” “Yeah. I just don’t know what to think about it yet.” Olivia Pichardo made the team as a fall walk-on to become the first female baseball player on a Division-I team. I can’t find many stats on her. The hitting and pitching clips I saw are the kind players send to college coaches, which is understandable. But it helps to see the outs and bad pitches to get a full picture of the talent. At one point, Clare and Pichardo were both thirteen-year olds with a choice to make, softball or baseball. Clare chose one, Pichardo the other. Eighteen years ago, there were fewer opportunities for girls in baseball. That now seems to have changed. The child I coached has aged out and finds herself involved in new activities, like getting her fifteen-month old son to throw a ball straight. If Leo picks up a bat, I’m sure his mother will be showing him what to do with it. And, if everything lines up just so, my grandson could know how to hit the ball because the girl I taught taught him.