Dear Overly Aggressive Father:
I am sorry that your son got a bloody nose yesterday at t-ball practice. My husband did not purposely throw the (soft) ball to your son in hopes that it would bounce off his glove and hit him in the face. When he asked your son if he was all right, took him to the side and got the first aid kit out, that was his way of showing concern. When he handed you the gauze so that he could return to the field, that was your cue to help your own son, not look at my husband like he had two heads.
My husband, a volunteer (read, not getting paid), leaves work early so that he can coach five year olds, not because he loves coaching t-ball, but because he loves his son. Teaching other kids along the way is an added bonus, but one he does not necessarily need in his life. So, aggressive father, when you sit and stew on the sidelines and then decide to call my husband out, well, it makes me think you’re a very big jerk.
When you loudly yell, “Do you think my son’s ready for that?” Meaning ready to catch a ball, the better question is, how can you learn to catch a ball if you don’t practice? Should my husband have rolled the ball to your son at first base? Should he have walked it over? Or better yet, maybe he should have just pretended to throw the ball, thus eliminating all chances that your son might get hit. After all, that’s how it will happen in the games…not. My husband didn’t beam the ball at your son. He lobbed a (soft) baseball at him with the hopes that he would catch it, not get a bloody nose. If your son were playing soccer, would you have been just as upset if he had tripped and skinned his knee while trying to kick the ball?
Furthermore, overly aggressive father, when you call my husband out from the sidelines and continue to question him, even after he’s asked you to wait until after practice to discuss the matter, so as not to involve the children, you look like an even bigger jerk. Accusing him of acting too nonchalant about the whole ordeal? Well, in case you didn’t notice, none of the other coaches showed up, and none of the other parents stepped up to take care of the kids who were still out on the field. They also needed his attention. Storming off the field with your son after that, didn’t help your cause. Whatever happened to accidents and forgiveness and good sportsmanship? Way to be a leader.
You see, overly aggressive father, you are just making my job, as a cheerleading mom, that much harder and I don’t appreciate it. Because when my husband comes home from yet another practice, exhausted because hasn’t had dinner yet, is once again the only coach to show up and manage ten kids (with all their issues and hang ups) by himself on a field in the cold, it makes him not want to coach anymore, and see, his sons really like having him as a coach.
So, please, overly aggressive father, don’t call a few hours later and offer a half-assed, ok, no apology. Call the commissioner and ask him to put your son on another team, because the season hasn’t even officially started yet, and we don’t even want you (not your son, he was enjoying himself) on our team. To you, jerky dad, I say, learn some self control and some manners, though I suspect it’s a little late for that. Instead of picking a fight, try thanking the guy who’s taking time out of his life to coach YOUR son, or better yet, take your son out in the yard and practice catching, because you can’t play baseball without some balls being thrown.
The Coach’s Wife