Coffee is the best when it is hot....don't you think?
This morning I have a few appointments so this entry will be fairly short. I find some of these memories pretty humorous as I reflect upon a boy's 8th grade antics and experiences.
There were multiple stressors during the year starting with where Buddy would attend high school. There were a number of regional Roman Catholic diocesan and private schools to select. The goal had always been Catholic education so the options were limited to seven schools. Next, Buddy had to be academically rather than athletically competitive to be accepted into the uber private schools. It is one thing that be able to throw a fast ball, but most of the schools were interested in how fast he could solve an algorithm or two. This also limited the number of schools to a handful. His classmates in his all boy school were bright and could attend any school of their choice. Buddy is a smart kid on the field and off, but he would rather perfect a "change up" than a math problem.
With that said, after a number of visits to most of the schools, he chose a small coed school in a state below our own border about 12 miles from the house. The next question was whether he would be accepted into the academically focused school. Therefore he had to take a placement test and send his transcripts. Waiting for word on admission was stressful because the letters were not sent until mid January if accepted right away. If the applicant is placed on the waiting list, the letters arrived in February. His class mates were receiving their letters of acceptance and Buddy waited (not so patiently) by the mail box.
During the off season, Buddy continued to train with Coach Phil and Coach D on Sundays. His dad took him to batting practice and he was excited about the impending season.
The pre season began and as predicted Buddy started first base. Unfortunately (in Buddy's mind), he was not the 1st or 2nd starter, he was more like number 3. Once again, the mutterings of "not fair....what the heck...etc" filled the car on the way to and from games and practice. It was always a pleasure when Buddy was annoyed (not!). On days when he had a bad game, his dad and I would draw straws on who would drive him home in his "salty" mood. The winner got to drive home alone ;-). I was on the losing end on a number of occasions. How often can a mother say, "your day will come....be patient....everyone gets a chance...and watch your language!"
got to go....more later....