Zan has started his fourth season of organized baseball, which also is his first season of organized baseball here in Pennsylvania … and, despite being sired by a guy who, as a child, was a bona fide sports misfit, the kid’s actually an above-average ballplayer for his age. This thrills me to no end.
What does not thrill me to no end, however, is the fact that this also is his first season without me as his coach. I thought I’d like taking a break from the responsibility, and would enjoy watching him from the sidelines. I was wrong.
See, the thing is, I was sort of banking on him being coached this season by someone who actually, you know, knows how to coach a baseball team. As it turns out, in a competition between me and Zan’s coach, I’m the one who actually knows how to coach a baseball team. Apparently, three years of doing the job made me relatively good at it.
Of course, being the control freak that I am, I’ve injected myself into the mix as one of several assistant coaches, so I’m not completely removed from the action. Any bets on how long it takes before I’m officially in charge of the team?