“You scored two points. You’re ahead,” Sebastion said. I would’ve been happy — having just knocked a double whilst playing a video game with my 17-year-old — but we were playing MLB The Show, and I blanched. “Runs. There are no points in baseball,” I told him. “Runs.” He blamed me for his ignorance, and thus began an unexpectedly sharp back-and-forth: “How does it feel to have squandered your son’s childhood by not teaching him how to play baseball?”
“First,” I told him, “your childhood isn’t over yet. Second, you know the difference between cabernet franc and cabernet sauvignon, pétanque and pallino, Italian knots from French cuffs. I haven’t exactly failed you as a father.” We agreed to disagree. But it led to a thought. Maybe I did fail, and maybe it’s not too late. I’d taught my children some next-level throws in bocce, the intricacies of NFL pass interference and the basics of doubling cube strategy in backgammon. In the interest of international esoterica, though, I’d apparently missed America’s pastime.
Given the state of the world circa May 2020, we had time, and boy, oh, boy, did we have a need — to get out of the house, get out of each other’s hair and get into the dugout.
Within days, I’d Googled proper Rawlings mitts, Glovolium glove treatment and all the fixin’s. A couple weeks later, Father’s Day rolled around, and my own mama showed up with a Jersey-garage-COVID-cleanout-bin’s worth of hand-me-down baseball gear. Armed with Louisville Slugger bats and enough balls, gloves and helmets to field a Double-A club, we hit the diamond. Whether or not Sebastion ever learns the difference between K and ꓘ in the scorebook, the pure joy of watching my mom pitch to one grandchild while another shagged flies in left field and a third honed his “no batter, no batter, no batter” trash talk was priceless. My pop dispensed “knees bent, elbow-up, bat-off-your-shoulder, eye-on-the-ball” advice to the batter, and I smiled ear to ear in the first ball cap I’d worn in a generation.
“I like sports that have objectives,” said Sebastion. “Running is just running, but baseball’s fun because you’re also playing a game. Exercise is good. It’s good bonding time. Underhand pitch to your kids, and throw a Wiffle Ball. That’s super easy, and everyone is satisfied when you hit a ball.”
With this success under our belt, we branched out: $99 inflatable kayaks, porch-pickup mountain bikes and trail running. Cecilia, my fiery 13-year-old with a Scorpio-sized chip on her shoulder, has ever eschewed team sports. When asked what she’d like to do, she declared to everyone’s surprise, “I want to try boxing.” More coffee-hour Googling led me to Title Boxing Club in Cary Street Station. Thanks to a generous trial membership, my girl and I were up and running mere days later, wrapped, gloved and sweating in a 45-minute noon class led by a badass woman and attended mainly by badass women in a squeaky-clean, properly distanced, no-contact space run by two badass women franchisees.
“It was fun, and I could express myself in a sporty way,” Cecilia said. “I liked doing it with my dad. Good for upper-body strength. And kayaking was fun, too. It’s a good thing for two different families because you can social distance in two boats. It’s a mind and body workout.”
Julian, our ADHD-probable second grader, now sports a Garmin Vivofit Jr., the kid’s version of the Garmin Instinct Solar that I added to my COVID-19 regimen. Since we strapped it to his wrist, he’s averaged 9,174 steps and 85 minutes of serious activity each day. In the same time, I’ve averaged 7,130 steps, so we’re good.
“It’s changed my life,” Julian said, “because it’s helped me exercise more. I like that it tells me about my sleep so that people know if I had a bad dream, or if I woke up in the middle of the night, or if I stayed up for a long time.”
Mommy and Daddy like that he’s motivated to move, and we can program a chore-reward chart. “If I do 60 minutes of activity, I get to move my character in a Spider-Man game. It’s really fun. If I do chores, I get points. I don’t take it off at all because I just like it.”
Summer has come to an end, but we’ve laid down new pathways. My COVID-19 skills include fresh pasta making and Rubik’s Cube solving, but sports are our new quarantine glue, and it’s holding the family together during a trying time. Don’t believe me? Field your team and meet us at the backstop. We’ll spot you a couple points.
Jason Tesauro, a modern papa to a fivesome under 18, invites you to join him live through life at the speed of love/chaos/adventure.
