all-stars

At the end of June, Brandon was selected to be on the All-Star baseball team for American Fork. All I had to do was pay more money and he would be able to get a new uniform and play in a weekend All-Star tournament.

I was hesitant.

We had just finished a very long season of overlapping baseball and soccer (a difficult and stressful feat). I was done with long 3 hour games in the sun (he had 18 baseball games). And honestly, were they really asking for more money?

But he really wanted to do it.

Of course he did.

He wanted to end his baseball career as an All-Star.

And so an All-Star he became.

I drove to Salt Lake for his first 2 games. They were definitely the underdogs. They squeaked out one win and then lost miserably on the 2nd.

The next game was Saturday morning, first thing. One more loss meant elimination. Trevor was out of town and Alyssa had a big dance recital rehearsal that she couldn't miss and I had to take her, so we sent Brandon up with his coach. They would be playing the #1 team. I was confident they would lose and so was Brandon. I sent him off knowing I would see him in a few short hours when he returned home defeated.

3 hours later I got a phone call.

They had won.

They totally beat the #1 team in one of the most exciting baseball games ever.

(or so I was told)

It was a miracle.

A true glory moment.

This win enabled them to play again at noon. Another miracle occurred. Again, they pulled off a thrilling win.

And then my little All-Star and his little team found themselves in the All-Star Championship game.

The championship game.

C.H.A.M.P.I.O.N.S.H.I.P.

And where was I?

I was listening to bits and pieces between games from a very excited little voice on my cell phone, as I sat waiting for a dance recital to start.

He was an All-Star who was All-Alone.

Not a soul from his family to cheer him on.

Not a parent or a grandparent or a sibling to watch him hit, run, and slide his way through the biggest baseball game of his life.

I had sent him off at 7 in the morning expecting to see him by 11 a.m..

He got home that night at 10:00 p.m., tired, sore, and dirty with a huge 2nd place trophy and medal in his hand and a big smile on his face.

Before he even had a chance to speak, I threw him in the car and headed out to JCW's. We sat in the booth for an hour eating a giant shake as he told me every detail, every play, every hit, every catch, every feeling of those last three games.

The games I missed.

The games he will never forget.

He had no hard feelings for me. He understood.

That's just the kind of kid he is.

He is my All-Star!