Ten Years Ago

I had my Proust-madeleine moment the other day at Walgreens, where I was picking out a birthday card for my mother’s baby sister; she turns 95 next week.  And just like that it was August 2005 again.

Clare and I had spent most of the month practicing for her travel-team tryouts.  How many fathers throw sidearm b.p. to their daughters?  I did.  How many times did I hit Clare on her left side?  A lot.

I hit balls to her at third base and in the outfield, then I’d place balls between second and third and put her at short; she’d break left or right at my command, pick up a ball and throw to me at first.  On and on, day after day we practiced during one of the hottest Augusts on record.

The first tryout, for a 14u team, took up most of a Sunday morning.  When it was over, I teased Clare about how much better she looked trying to impress strangers than she did playing baseball the two years I coached teams.  When we didn’t get a call back, we found another team.   Clare put on a clinic facing the pitching machine; she also hit a coach who had been taking notes on batters while sitting alongside the machine.  Later, as we were getting ready to leave, the coach came up to us and said, “Obviously, you’re thinking college.”  Clare was just getting ready to start eighth grade.

The next day was my Auntie Franny’s 85^th birthday party; my aunt was sweet on Clare, just like with me.  We had cake, came home, and wondered what would happen next.  Then the phone calls started.  The coach from the one team apologized for not getting back to us sooner.  Did Clare want to play for him?  As soon as that call ended, the phone rang again with one of the coaches from the day before.  Do you want to play for us?  Yes.  We didn’t even know it was a 16u team.

And that was yesterday, 2005.