Lutz Little League Isn't for Wimps

I have never really enjoyed outdoor activity and sports are boring. There. I said it. Combining the two always sounded like torture until I had children of my own.

Sure, I'd prefer an air-conditioned museum or theatre-going experience, but I gave birth to two athletes. They came out swinging so there's nothing I can do. They already have to deal with a mouthy mom who uses sarcasm and underwear to make a point. The least I can do is sit my nicely toned ass in the stands and cheer them on.

But make no mistake, Little League is rough.

First of all, there's the bugs. Insects in Lutz are suicidal and dangerous, like Lindsay Lohan on crack. Two have already gotten caught in my hair and one flew into the ump's mouth when he was fighting with a parent over a lousy call.

Parents are worse than the bugs. Mas and Pas drag their kids on the field when those poor runts are sick, tired, and then they yell at them to "wake up and look alive!" The coaches scream and yell and, if you listen closely enough, you can hear their arteries hardening. If I hear one more idiot holler, "Baseball ready!" I will kill him before his inevitable stroke does.

The political discussions are priceless. Folks who can't quite grasp score-taking responsibilities try to talk about political beliefs based on five minutes of Fox News before happy hour begins. Spare me your foreign policy theories, Bubba, and just keep chewin' that tobacco. Mow my lawn afterwards and pipe down.

Fall Ball is supposed to be the practice league to prepare for the ultra-competitive Spring Ball. In the fall, they stack a few teams with known superstars and the rest of the teams get newbies and uncoordinated future accountants. Scouts sniff around and see who to watch for when tryouts take place in February or March.

I hate that I know all this, but I do. I sit in the stands, with my laptop because the games are two hours long and I've got sh*t to do, but I still pay attention.

The parents complain about how we're the losing-est team on the roster.

Oldest and Youngest aren't thrilled with this situation because they rock. Despite the fact they are new to this area, they can hit, throw and catch better than most.

"I want to win, Momma."

"Yeah, I know, kiddo. Wait until Spring Ball and we'll be back with a better team."

Sigh. I hope they don't start calling me Ma.