10

 

At practice I managed to hit the ball out of the infield twice. Which was three fewer times than Baxter Billows hit the ball over the fence.

“How’d it go?” asked my dad when he picked me up.

“Really good.”

About three traffic lights later, I said, “But, Dad? I don’t really think I’m cut out for baseball. I think this will probably be my last year playing.”

My dad turned the radio down, which he did whenever he was stressed in the car. And he would get stressed in the car for two reasons: a bad traffic jam and a stubborn son.

“I thought you just said it went really well.”

“Yeah, by my standards. Which means that I didn’t trip over my own feet running around the bases. By those standards, today’s practice was a total success.”

“Jack, listen to me,” my dad said. “I can’t tell you how important it is to be well rounded. It’s not enough to just be smart these days. You need to play an instrument, be involved in the community, do some volunteer work, and play a sport.”

“Why can’t I just do karate? Karate’s a sport.”

My dad shook his head. “Karate is an exercise that helps your coordination and stamina for the real sports, like soccer and baseball. Plus, you actually like baseball.”

That was true. I did actually like baseball. As long as I was watching it on TV and not playing it.

“Maybe it’s team sports you’re not crazy about,” my dad suggested. “What if I sign you up for some tennis lessons? Tennis is a great game.”

I just wanted to end the conversation. “Whatever.”

“Whatever yourself,” my dad said. “All I’m saying is, colleges look at all that stuff.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little early for me to be worrying about college? I have all of high school to deal with that.”

“It’s NEVER too early to be thinking about college and finding that thing that will set you apart. Do you have any idea how competitive it’s gotten out there?”

I was starting to get mad. “Actually, no, I don’t. Why would I? I’m in MIDDLE SCHOOL.”

My dad turned the radio completely off. “Listen, Jack, I know you think I’m a crazy lunatic. Sometimes I think I am, too. But I’m the one out there in the world, not you. I’m the one who sees how hard it is to get ahead and how hard people have to work. I know you’re a kid. I get it, I swear. But if you don’t learn the value of hard work now, I’m afraid you’re going to fall behind. And these days, once you fall behind, it’s incredibly hard to catch up.”

“You’re right about one thing,” I said. “You ARE a crazy lunatic.”

I turned the radio back on, way louder than before, and neither one of us said another word until we pulled into the driveway. But as I was getting out of the car, I turned to my dad and said, “I’m twelve years old. I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring up college ever again until I’m sixteen. I just want you to let me live my life and do the things I want to do and be a kid. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.”

Then I smacked the hood of the car with my hand before I went inside.

It was the hardest hit I had all day.