Homerun or Strike?

Stupid me!  I did delete by accident one blog entry that I had composed only a week ago. One about baseball and what I makes me feel like when I am standing as a mother next to a baseball field.  I am head banging my head for the moment. I liked that entry. First of all because it was about my son and me and second of all it was about baseball.

Because I also write these entries for him in the hope that he one day will read a few of these entries and know what his mother was alike. He might not care but that is not my concern for the moment. So I feel obliged to rewrite that entry. Not that it will be 100% the same.

A is now playing over a year baseball.  A game that I got to love while being an exchange student in the States. That my son was able to sign up in my home country I was quite happy about. The uniform I do like a great deal. The underwear and the protection that comes along does cause some giggling but safety above all. What is right now the biggest mental opponent in the whole baseball chapter is the Belgian weather. P even thinks that ever since A signed up that we did not have any nice weather at all.  It is a quite an effort to get up on a chilly and wet Sunday and driving your son a baseball field and then have to stand next to side lines.

The fact is that I have seen my son making progress in this last year with a bat and a glove.  He plays in a very nice team where the coaches try to motivate and having fun while playing.  Okay hitting a homerun is the ultimate dream coming true. Something that I wish for A to happen when he comes out of the dug out.  Yes, I am then a nervous mother who then is keeping her fingers crossed that he will then hit the ball and that it then will fly into the direction he wants.

The moment that the pitcher throws the ball into his direction and he swings his bat I do hold my breath. In that split second anything is possible. One hit away from a strike or a homerun. All the possibilities are still open and that does give you as a standbyer a very good sensation. The moment that A then takes off for first base I go balistic inside of head.  A part of me would love to run next to him and get him as fast as possible on that safe first base.   When he makes there I do feel rather relieved because it is such a big difference.

A does know what it feels like when he hits a strike. It is not a lovely sight. His body language says it all.  Those shoulders go down, he does not make eye contact with any of his team mates and goes back into the dug out and sits then on his bench in a corner.  I would love then to run over and give him a big hug and tell him that it is okay.   But what goes up has to come down once in a while and in baseball winning and losing are essential in playing any game.  Even in life and so in a way hitting a strike is not that bad.  I keep telling it to myself that it is part of the learning process and that he will be fine.

When he does make it do first base I am cheering very loudly. I then hope that he has a better over view of the field and that he then can stay as focused as he should.  Also I am very happy that he then can help his team mates to get back home.  There is nothing more stressful then that all the bases are loaded you then are on. 

I love the sound of a ball that hits a bat. It almost sounds as music in my ears. It is a very liberating sound.  It is right after that close contact moment that everything is possible and that you have to let go as well.  As a parent next to the side lines I do then keep my fingers crossed that the ball heads into direction is the most adventage for her son.  Strange to say that having such a problem with letting a go that when I am standing next to a baseball field that I do master it already a great deal better then anywhere else.

Yes, I am proud of A that he still manages to keep himself focused when he is out there in the out field waiting for a ball heading his way.  Playing baseball is also running after a ball that you know will be very hard to catch up with, picking it up over and over and once in a while having to face the fact that even if you try it will not end where you wish it to land.  The stamina he has already shown on a baseball field makes me a very happy mother.

That his team mates and coach cheer him on matters in a way more then when I do. Not that I would wish to cheer loudly but out there he is on his own and already surrounded by a whole team and back up.  Sometimes I even feel out of place when I see him there standing and swinging that bat.  I sometimes close my eyes and just hope for the best.

Today his team Brussels Kangaroos won again and A did got high fives, cheers and smiles from his team mates. It was good day out there at the baseball field. One I would sign up again without any doubt but deep down I know that there will be many moments that a ball will not land or fly where he wants it to go. So today we did celebrate the win with a bag of crisps as a reward. My best moment of the morning was when he walked off the field with his bag and said:'Hey mum, I did well I did help my team to win!' 

You all know what it feels like to hit a homerun or a strike or when a ball lands in the out field. We all have to walk once in a while into the out field to find back our focus. To have a better overview of life and what we are after. Let us just say that home runs are nice but hitting a strike and then managing to hit a homerun (and football player Robben will agree with me on that one after missing a penalty shot but scoring a year later the decisive goal in the champions league final game)is in a way so much intenser and unforgetable. So let us play some ball and are you 'BASEBALL READY'?  After all like the memorable baseball player Babe Ruth stated once:"Every strike brings me closer to the next home run.”'


"Sometimes a strikeout means that the slugger’s girlfriend just ran off with the UPS driver. Sometimes a muffed ground ball means that the shortstop’s baby daughter has a pain in her head that won’t go away. And handicapping is for amateur golfers, not ballplayers. Pitchers don’t ease off on the cleanup hitter because of the lumps just discovered in his wife’s breast. Baseball is not life. It is a fiction, a metaphor. And a ballplayer is a man who agrees to uphold that metaphor as though lives were at stake.

Perhaps they are. I cherish a theory I once heard propounded by G.Q. Durham that professional baseball is inherently antiwar. The most overlooked cause of war, his theory runs, is that it’s so damned interesting. It takes hard effort, skill, love and a little luck to make times of peace consistently interesting. About all it takes to make war interesting is a life. The appeal of trying to kill others without being killed yourself, according to Gale, is that it brings suspense, terror, honor, disgrace, rage, tragedy, treachery and occasionally even heroism within range of guys who, in times of peace, might lead lives of unmitigated blandness. But baseball, he says, is one activity that is able to generate suspense and excitement on a national scale, just like war. And baseball can only be played in peace. Hence G.Q.’s thesis that pro ball-players—little as some of them may want to hear it—are basically just a bunch of unusually well-coordinated guys working hard and artfully to prevent wars, by making peace more interesting.”
― David James Duncan

Today I also was passed on this link to a very impressive letter from a minor league coach. A letter any parent, teacher and coach has to read. And so yes, I get the message I better be a silent mother next to side lines of a baseball field.

 http://www.mac-n-seitz.com/teams/mike-matheny-letter.html

Royal Piano Music

I don't like Mondays and I am not the only one. It tires me out to get up that day more then other mornings.  The moment that I then make eye contact with my mirror I am so much tempted to go into hiding till Tuesday shows up.  There are a few Mondays that I do not suffer from the Monday virus and one of these Mondays is coming up very soon.

This coming Monday BOZAR in Brussels will be hosting for 6 evenings in a row 12 extreme talented & young pianists.  For the last 5 weeks these 12 have mastered & nurtured their talent. For the moment they are training for the last final stretch in order to win that one competition that is called in a way the Olympic event for piano.

Many might wonder what I have going on with events like this.  No, I don't play a musical instrument myself. I tried but I did fail.   That my sister is the most musical of my sibblings does not surprise me. My sister, who I still consider a very focused and sometimes subborn person in many situations, had the stamina that I did lack to get something decent audible out of a piano . The moment that she will start to play the piano (and unfortunately that does not happen as much as I would like to) I am a very envious person. Now believe me that she must have cursed that instrument once in a while. I did as well. Trying to study for a final exam while she was trying to get that one specific line right for the 100th time is not the best back ground music.  Still, that my sister managed to finish up her musical academic schooling I still consider a great accomplishment.  One I do envy her for!

So people who play a musical instrument I do admire. In a way they are able to (re-)-create something in a split seconc. The music that they let escape out of their instrument can cause so many emotions. Music has got a power that I do treat with admiration and dignity. 

No, you can't put me in one box when it comes down to music.  I enjoy many genres of music.   Yes, I do have a very strong tendency to like the past and I am fully aware that I don't go as wild for the music that my other significant loves but I do treat my classics with very great respect.

Why? Well, first of all it is the kind of music that my parents made me listen to and that has filled up the house were I grew up. I will never forget when I did for the very first time did hear 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik' by Mozart or when my dad made me listen to 'the Sabre Dance' by Katchaturian. Yes, I loved my first time Rachmaninoff because that paino music had a very deep impact.   My first walz I danced on the music composed by Strauss.  And I still know where I was when I did for the first time did hear the first sounds of 'Spring' by Vivaldi.

Browsing through my father his gigantic collection of his LP collection always a magical time. 
I also tried to predict what the music was about by looking at the cover of those discs. The cracking sound of them that then suddenly changed into music those were magical moments. Moments that I enjoyed many times on my own! That I then started to dance while nobody was watching was even more fun.

I always try to listen very attentively to music. Is also something I need to do when I am at ballet school in order to get in synch with my body movements.  Last Saturday my kitchen filled up with Bach and that I was carried away to a different place then  my sink I loved.  That this piece of divine music was performed by one of the half finalist of the competition did not matter a great deal.  It could be played by anyone but still this young talent did manage to create goosebumps on my skin and take me back to the essentials of music.  I do prefer sometimes to listen to the candidates without seeing them. I go blind and let my ears and other senses take over.  Something that I do consider essential to fully understand the power of music.

If a musician then manages to take me hostage then he or she has got an imense power. One that I will bow my head and close my eyes for. That it happened on a Saturday morning while I was unloading the dish washer and I did try to recuperate from 5 days abroad with lively year 5 students was a bonus.

Then there are the memories that I do cherish so greatly when it comes down to music. I am so grateful that my parents made me listen to music. 'Do you hear that?', my dad more then once would say. I have to be honest that I was not always there when he already had picked up the core of the piece. There have been moments that I had to listen more then once. Many things what he did hear I might never picked up because listening to music is also something very intimate. The musician allows you to  embark on a very intense journey. There is a map avalaible of this musical journey but chances are likely that there will be delays, change or directions, detours, crashes, flat tyres and in some cases you might like to speed up the tempo when he or she decides that it is the only right direction to go with their musical instrument.

One memorable day still highlights that love I have for piano music. The day that my father in 1995 took me to a piano concencerto played by the winner Markus Groh. It was not only the breathtaking background of the castle of Hex, the lovely smelling rosebushes, the rays of sunlight that then reflected on the black and shiny grand piano and the goosebumps that I felt underneath my summer dress that afternoon that made it an unforgetable event. No, it was so much more. You were not there with me so it is hard to explain but still...  My dad was sitting next to me and when I did once in a while got see his face and saw his eyes sparkle at moments that my heart made also tiny jumps of joy that made it such a special and unforgetable day.

A grand piano and a person who treats that instrument with care and makes it sound superb that is all it takes to make my soul coming alive. That I therefor can't wait for those 12 mortal souls to come out of the Chapel in Waterloo two by two in order to drive to BOZAR in Brussels, take one final deep breath, get on that an impressive stage, sit down and then let their fortunate fingers glide over those black and white colored keys in order to produce that one tone that they are after makes me long for Monday.

And no, once again, you do not need to agree with me when it comes down to music. It is useless to start that battle but all I wish to point out that classic music has given me already so much and that it is only thanks to very dedicated, motivated and people with great stamina and the will to succeed that I get to enjoy these incredible music moments.  So already one big hand of applause to the twelve finalists, all the members of National orchestra and the very talented and focused conductor Marin Alsop for the 6 days that Brussels becomes the piano capital of the world.  Yes, once a year at the end of May there is that one Monday that I can't wait to come! Is that understood?

Video 1: The impressive finger work of Markus Groh still impresses me. And then there is that focused look like he tries to tell that piano:'I can keep up with you!'. Yes, in my honest opinion I do consider these people athletes. They have to be mentally and physically in good shape!  It looks like a piece of cake but it is not!

Video 2: For the Twilight community out there:Edward Cullen does know his classics quite well and that he can play the piano makes him an even more interesting book character. Robert Patisson can play the piano himself and did not need a stunt double to this one! ;-)

Video 3: Rachmaninoff! No more words needed! The music tells you all you need to know!