Send

SEND

Some days I see the Five Minute Friday prompt and I am completely blank. Other days, I have an idea but I mull before posting. This week - I knew right away where to start.

"Send" can be a terrifying word when you are a baseball fan. Especially one with littles who have learned your avid fandom. Wednesday night, the word crossed my screen - first my twitter feed, then my MLB alerts and then eventually my ESPN text alerts. Nationals send Tyler Clippard to the A's for ...

The ... wasn't relevant at first. CLIPPY?! You traded Clippy? I knew it could happen. Baseball is business. That's one (of a million - or more) reason I am not a GM. I just do this baseball thing with my heart. And my kids. As a grown up, you can see business. I don't like it, but I get it. My kiddos? Not so much. At least not at first, and then after that, not without some coaching. Part of parenting - coaching in tough moments.

Some of you may laugh at the scenes that followed, or be in disbelief, but for me, Thursday was a tough, tough morning. My girls LOVE Clippard. His walk out song (Ready or Not) and his delivery on the mound. His smile and his goggles. His attitude with the fans. His willingness to answer questions. His hugs. My kids love hugging ball players. We have his bobblehead and since I announced the trade, that bobblehead has been on our kitchen table so we can see him at breakfast and dinner - and share our fun memories. "Mom! Remember when he was on our calendar?!" "Mom, remember that day I took all those pictures?" It goes on...

The Washington Post Sports Bog caught wind of the thread of parents Wednesday night who were dreading sharing the news. And followed with the "update tweets" on Thursday. And then reached out for a phone interview - to hear what it was like for the kids to say goodbye.

STOP (note - my 5 minutes just expired).


And then they wrote an article. (Thanks, Dan Steinberg!). Published it. MLB Cut4 and Hot Stove picked it up and there were lots of comments and mentions and it's a little odd how social media spreads things. My dad called because he thinks the whole story is cool.  

The girls have recovered from the shock. We have played the song about 5 times in the past 24 hours. They have made farewell cards which are now sitting on the table while I debate the best place to mail them (the Coliseum? He may not be there for weeks! Maybe I wait 34 more days and mail to the A's spring training facility. Where IS the A's spring training facility?). The bobblehead is following us around the house.

The girls have seen the article. Which generated a new discussion: "Mom, why don't they put our REAL ages in there? I am 9 3/4, not 9." "yeah, and I am 6 1/2!" I still don't really know what to say to that. We have started to talk about the "new guy" (Yunel Escobar). How he can play second base - how we have a need there. And then my 9 3/4 year old added "yeah, and in case Desi gets hurt. But that would stink mom, because we need healthy guys so we can win all 162 games."  For the record, even though adults (including me) know a team will never win all 162 games, my girls will not give in on that. It is theoretically possible, even if mathematically extraordinarily improbable, so we continue our countdown to Opening Day with the dream of 162 wins, a team full of guys we love (including the new guy - whom we've not even met), and memories of one of our favorites - as he starts a new chapter across the country. 

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