Not about A.J.

It was ten years ago yesterday that Cubs’ catcher Michael Barrett punched A.J. Pierzynski; A.J. had brushed Barrett on the way back to the dugout after scoring on a sacrifice fly.  I heard about it on the car radio between games of Clare’s tournament that day.

Travel ball was still new to us, this dedicating weekend after weekend to our child’s athletic endeavors.  By Sunday night, Michele and I were always drained.  How did people get used to it?  We never did.

Around the same time A.J. and Barrett were going at it, I was using the men’s room when another dad from the team took the urinal next to mine.  “Good thing your daughter hit that triple,” he said, staring at the wall.  He didn’t need to add, “Because she made a couple of errors that nearly cost us the game.” 

I’ve thought about this guy in the ten years since.  His daughter was one of the coach’s favorites, and she wanted to go to school out East for a sport other than softball.  I wonder how that all worked out, whether there were other men’s room conversations in the years since.  I don’t know because we switched travel teams in the fall.  And that was a good thing.