Catch

As our young lives proceeded, it became apparent that the sandbox games of toddlerhood would no longer suffice the maturing needs of my young sons.  While I enjoyed watching them build structures of sand, I realized that they were advancing and looking to accomplish more with their developing arms and legs.  Inasmuch as we’d recently moved to Corona, California, our backyard was surrounded by a low slump stone wall and comprised of a sizeable lawn that they could play their youthful games on.  I had ‘settled’ down with a somewhat regular evening time period wherein we could share activities together.  Additionally, my work took me somewhat frequently away from them.  With all of these elements converging, it seemed most appropriate that I commence an activity of playing catch with my older sons whenever I could.  A regular evening time together would be beneficial to us all; and, I would begin to bless their lives with some of the skills I had.  With practice and participation, I hoped that I could convey such skills to them.  Their participation would slowly develop their physical skills and help them realize they could do more!  As they engaged regular effort to advance their physical abilities, their talents would imperceptibly improve.  This, we called – play!

Inasmuch as each child grew at his own rate, it did not become readily apparent to each child that they were entirely ready to engage in playing catch for the entire length of the backyard.  Rather, catch would commence with me gently dropping a tennis ball into their nearby, outstretched childlike play mitt.  Thus, the recently developing child would achieve with glee and attempt to throw the soft tennis ball back to my outstretched mitt.  I often spent the evening chasing miss thrown tennis balls as the child would endeavor to throw with his unwieldy, unproven arm.  Commencing with the oldest, Michael and I would toss the tennis ball back and forth for hours in the backyard.  I got a valuable chance to observe my son as he attempted to train his body with more and more throws.  With practice, he’d throw further and further until we were playing catch the full length of the lawn in the backyard.  Following my long workday, he’d get a chance to interact with his Father, often despite my demanding church workload.

As our catch with the tennis ball became easy and somewhat oversimplified, I introduced a regular hardball into our playing catch repertoire.  As the hardball was introduced to our catching and throwing, I took the opportunity to upgrade Michael’s mitt to a more mature size and padding.  It also gave me the opportunity to reward his endeavor and success with a more advanced baseball mitt.  I always took a significant level of pride as each son advanced toward an upgraded baseball mitt.  Releasing his childlike mitt into the care of his younger brother, I would have Grant stand near me as I practiced with him and the tennis ball.  The tennis ball would be a softer, closer, easier catch for Grant as he would seek to accomplish the skill of playing catch at a young age.  His abilities were not far behind Michael’s and he sought attention in this evening ritual we’d developed.  Thus, our configuration was the full length of the backyard with Michael; who’d developed the skill to catch with hardball strength and ability.  Nearer to me, the tennis ball would be used to provide practice for the younger son, Grant, to develop his skills with the softer tennis ball.

As each younger brother became proficient with the tennis ball, he would graduate to the hardball at the end of the lawn with an upgraded mitt.  His observant still younger brother took over near me; practicing with the now liberated tennis ball.  As time went by, I eventually arrived with a quartet of baseball throwers at the end of the lawn.  Each would zing their own version of a hurled baseball toward me with a speed to challenge my ability to catch their best throw. With time and practice, our playing catch took on a more aggressive nature - their catches and return throws employed their full strength and skill.  I genuinely enjoyed playing catch with maturing sons who would throw to me with a more aggressive velocity.  The ‘pop’ of a hardball in my (or their) mitt as they threw (or caught) it resounded in my palm and my ear.  My sons were developing their talents and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Little did these sons know that I would strive to hit the very center of their upheld mitt in the early days of their efforts to catch.  Each would improve his own individual skills as I attempted to hit the center of his upheld mitt with the ball.  Each catch of the ball would encourage his personal efforts.  Each missed catch would serve to reinforce his intent to catch the ball with greater, more determined dexterity.  Each returned throw would either reinforce his ability to throw the ball with increased velocity and strength; or encourage an improved accuracy.  I would endeavor to remain planted as they made their respective throws.  As they improved, I’d play catch with each of them by turn as they stood at the end of the lawn improving constantly.

I remember the time spent with them as a most pleasant time and enjoyable effort.  Unbeknownst to them I relished the time to look upon their faces and persons with the utter delight of a proud father!