Thirty-something speaks
Quit multitasking and just swing the bat
Mike Maddock

I should have known better than to tell my son to do more than one thing at a time. After all, he is genetically bound to struggle with more than one task performed simultaneously. That's because he is a male, and he is my son. I can get a whole list of things accomplished if I do those things one at a time and without interruption, but life doesn't work that way. That's why my house is the land of the unfinished project.

My son has the misfortune of having me for a T- ball coach. I thought I'd impart my 13 years of organized baseball wisdom on him and teach him how to hit a baseball off a tee. I told him to stand parallel to the tee with his front foot even with the middle of home plate. Then I told him to hold his bat out even with the ball on top of the tee and scootch backwards until the ball was at the fat part of the bat. That was just the beginning.

After his body and feet were in the proper position, I told him to hold the bat up in the air with his right elbow parallel to the ground. Then I told him to swing the bat, keeping his eye on the ball while stepping forward with his front foot and keeping his back foot completely planted. Easy enough, right? I'm afraid not.

The poor little guy never stood a chance. By the time game time rolled around, I had confused him so thoroughly that he couldn't remember which foot was the front. He wondered why the bat was fat, and he thought his elbow was supposed to do some kind of dance move with the ground. The result was one deranged looking batter. His legs were hopping back and forth not sure of which one was supposed to stay planted and which was supposed to move forward. His elbows were flapping in the air like a wounded bird, and one foot was in the middle of home plate while the other was close to the third base line. If he had managed to hit the ball, he may have sent the folks in the first base dugout running for cover.

It wasn't his fault he looked like a loopy stork with a bat. It was mine. After the third miss, the assistant coach helped him out, and my son managed a slow grounder in the infield.

When he came back to the dugout, I decided to give him the advice I should have given him in the first place. "Just watch the ball, Son. Don't worry about anything else."

It worked. He hit the ball like he'd done before I decided to impart my wisdom, and that was just fine. We may ease in other fundamentals eventually, but I'll try to keep them coming one at a time.

Sometimes it's tough to leave my kids alone, especially when I actually know something. I want to share all that knowledge even if the result is a confused five- year- old. My son was trying so hard to please his ol' man that he forgot to have fun and just swing. That's the one thing I want him to remember; have fun. His swing isn't supposed to be perfect, but that smile after he gets a hit is the most perfect thing I've ever seen.