Spring Training Starts Tomorrow

Ok, so it's been a while since I've posted and I apologize. My goal is to at post at least twice a week, but I'm not off to a terrific start. It will get better.

He better start using the left hand more often. Everyone knows that southpaws pull down the bigger contracts.

Anyway, I just thought I'd let everyone know what a baby Eli is being lately. I've been thinking a lot about helping him save money for when he gets older and college, and how much money it's going to take to retire when I get older. I was pretty worried about it, but then I realized: Who needs a 401K? I've got a future Major League Baseball player for my nest egg. But lately Eli doesn't seem to agree.

I've been trying to get him ready for his future Major League career, and he's all like, "But Dad, I'm only 8 months old."

And I'm like, "Well, with your Dad's athletic ability in your genes, that 96 MPH fast-ball isn't going to just appear overnight. You better work at it."

Everytime I wake him up at 4 AM for our training session, he's all like, "Dad, why are getting me out of bed again and duct taping this baseball to my hand? I want to go to bed."

I try to tell him, "The grip for a knuckle-curve isn't something that just comes naturally; it takes hard work to get it down."

"If you expect to ever beat out any Dominican player for a spot on a 25-man roster, you had better start changing your work-ethic," I constantly tell him. But by that time he's usually crawling away, chewing on his books or something. Unbelievable. Kids these days!

The real kicker is the other day. We go to the weight room so Eli can work his lower body for more strength off the mound, and he's all like, "Hey Dad, don't you think I should start walking before I worry about pitching?"

I'm all like, "If you ever want to get that extra couple of inches drop on your breaking ball, you need to work on your balance point."

I wait for his response, but by that time, he's all like drooling and playing with his toys and jabbering and stuff. I'm starting to wonder if this kid has the desire to make it to the big leagues. He couldn't do one rep on the power sled and he thought the squat belt was cool because the buckle made a jingling noise. I can't believe this.

Finally, I tried to get him to at least start throwing one of his soft balls to me down in the basement. He's not too bad, but he keeps on putting the ball in this mouth and drooling all over it. I try to tell him, "You can't keep doctoring the ball once you get to the big leagues. You might as well stop throwing spit balls now."

Meanwhile, he's all like giggling and playing with a stuffed animal or something. Unreal. This kid has a long way to go before the big leagues. Tomorrow, we start working on throwing with both arms so he can be a switch pitcher, like this guy:

In all honesty, I really don't care if my kid plays baseball; I just hope he grows up happy and healthy. He can be anything he wants. Whether it's a baseball player, doctor, baseball player, band member, baseball player, lawyer, baseball player, astronaut, baseball player, garbage man, baseball player, or even a baseball player, I just hope he's happy. Heck, I wouldn't even mind if he was a baseball player!

I guess I probably shouldn't rush anything. I think I'll just take a passive approach, kind of like Earl Woods, and let the chips fall where they may.

"Mom always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be when I grew up, "within reason." When I asked her what she meant by 'within reason,' she said, "You ask a lot of questions for a garbage man." - Jack Handey