Bleacher Bettys

Baseball season is here and I’m so tickled. I love watching my precious baby boys, decked out in caps and jerseys, running around on a bright green field with their buddies. They say these are the days, and I get it. It feels so all-American and special to be part of the baseball tradition. What makes the experience even better are the friends cheering next to me. I didn’t know a single one just a couple years ago, but now I’m a member of the Baseball Mom Sisterhood and we are such a good time. I could’ve been stuck with a heap of hussies to navigate the little league years with, but thank heavens, I was not. There we sit, a bunch of Bleacher Betties, shoulder to shoulder, hollering for the cutest things to happen to baseball pants. We shout for the IronBirds, the Brewers, the Yankees, whoever our boys are that season, and we are all in, man. We are bedazzled in the latest team flair, rooting for our kids like it’s the World Series.

The mix of personalities on the bleachers is such a delight. I love to see a mama’s chin quiver, her hands fumble as she attempts to video her little guy sliding into home.  I love the moms who get their 10,000 steps by pacing during the game, and the ones who could scale the fence like Spiderman at any second. I love the solidarity of bitterness that spreads from mom to mom when the other teams’ fans are obnoxious. I love to see a mama exhale when her kid catches a pop fly. I love the moms who know everything about everything and keep the rest of us sorry souls informed. I love watching the calmest mom transform into Hulk when her little 7 lb 12 oz baby is on the wrong end of a bad call. I love to cheer for their boys, and I love when they cheer for mine. We all have a touch of crazy, some flags just fly higher, depending on the day or the play. Our boys are a hoot, we’re a hoot, it’s all a hoot. Here’s to another great season of baseball! God bless our boys and the game they love. May our little ball players always remember: those crazy mamas on the bleachers are their biggest fans.

Bleacher Banter

  •     My butt is frozen to these bleachers. I’m ready for spring.

  •      I’m sitting on the surface of the sun.

  •      Crap, my fan died.

  •      What do I smell in your Yeti?

  •      I can’t eat, too nervous.

  •      We are not going to the concession stand again. Watch your brother play!

  • Here, take $10 and buy whatever you want.

  •      I am NOT going to be team mom this year.

  •      Sure! I’ll be team mom!

  •      Dear God, please help Tommy knock the snot out of that ball.

  •      Dear God, I’m sorry for the things I said about a 7-year-old pitcher.

  •      That coach needs to get it together. I don’t care if he is my husband.

  •      I don’t want him to feel stressed. JUST RELAX AND HAVE FUN, BABY!

  •      MATTHEW BENJAMIN SMITH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE!

  •      Nothing cuter than watching a little guy learn the game!

  •      Does he know this isn’t dodgeball?

  • Hey, as long as they have fun, right?

  • I WANNA WINNNNNN!!!!

  •      Just tell me what happens, I can’t watch.

  •      Oh my Lord, did you see that?

  • HEADS UP!!!

  •      Have you seen the bathrooms at this field? I’d rather find a bush.

  •      Those coaches are being too hard on Thomas.

  •      THOMAS, RUN LIKE YOU’RE ON FIRE, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

  •      Do you know how much money I just spent on that bat? Ridiculous.

  •      Do I want a spirit wear shirt in every color? YES! Did you see my new game day bracelets?

  •      Oh crap, where’s the baby?

  •      He’s getting kicked out of the game for cussing! Good Lord, he’s working with kids for f#!@ sake!

  •      Do the other team’s moms think this is a fashion show?

  •      Oh, my outfit? I just threw on some Lululemon leggings, my Coach belt bag, and Golden Goose sneakers. I also had a blowout.

  •      I’m telling you, he was so active in utero, I knew he’d be a ball player.

  •      White pants. Great.

  •      Our coach is an angry bird.

  •      Our coach is too laidback.

  •      Only four scrimmages this week? Do we want to win Saturday or not?

  •      All I’m saying is that sweet angel baby out there is going to play for the Braves one day.

  •      Oh, he’s just tired. Or his belly hurts.

  •      It’s a little league game. It’s not that serious.

  •      I want to see birth certificates for that team.

  •      That umpire is the sweetest old man.

  •      That was a stupid call, blue. You know it, I know it, we all know it.

  •      I am not cooking dinner after this.

  • We decided to go with a different t-ball team. It was the best move for his career.

  •      HE WAS SAFE!

  •      He would’ve been safe if that kid wasn’t blocking the d@#& base!

  •      I’m going to let it go. Whatever. It’s a baseball game.

  •      5 minutes later You saw he was safe, right?

  • Bedtime prayers Lord, we all know Johnny was safe. Amen.

  •      No, I can’t keep the stat book. No habla ingles.

  •      Well, he meets with his batting coach tomorrow, then there’s his agility class, then he has a tryout for a travel team, so maybe we can fit in school, I’m just not sure yet.

  •      He keeps grabbing himself, do you think he has to pee?

  • OK, I packed the bleacher seats, folding chairs, a blanket, snacks, drinks, an umbrella, a spray fan, a neck fan, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a hat, a visor, sunscreen, toys for the baby - baseball ready!

  •      I was supposed to bring team snacks today?

  •      I had a calligrapher personalize each goody bag with the boys’ monograms, I threw in some collectible baseball cards, then I had an artist create replicas of each boy on the cookies. It was nothing.

  •      I thought we could order some pizzas in the parking lot and call that the team party.

  •      If each family contributes $5,000 we can rent out Six Flags for the team party.

  •      We should just pitch a tent and call this ballpark home.

  •      Game day! I love it.