I moved to Seattle sixteen years ago. My days playing baseball as a kid came in the Philadelphia area. This explains my affinity for all things Philly, although less so for cheesesteaks and soft pretzels these days. In Philly, you would occasionally deal with a torrential downpour, but long soaking rains – and rainouts – were rare.
This season, my boys have had at least five rainouts. Frankly, I’ve lost count.
Last night, we went to the park in the neighborhood for extra BP. The boys played a four inning “game”, one-on-one with ghost runners and me as pitcher. It rained the entire time, but lightly. Though we were soaked by the end, it was playable (we used tennis balls for safety). The boys were swinging the bats better than they had all season. I couldn’t wait to see what they’d do in the game today. I should have known better.
This morning, we showed up at Brand X Little League (our cross-town rivals). I pulled on my old Penn State sweatshirt (which fits great now) for the 46 degree batting practice (it’s almost June!) The rain has stopped, but it’s futile – large puddles cover the skin infields and though we have an agreement with the other coach to play in the outfield grass, only 4 players show up for the Brand X team (note to Brand X: don’t put all your committed families on the same team). Our 11 players eat the post-game donuts and go home. I abstain from the donuts, even though there are extras.
Maybe we’ll play on Monday. Weather permitting.