"There's No Crying in Baseball"

I can watch just about any baseball movie there is. In fact, it doesn't even have to really be about baseball for me to enjoy it. One of my favorite baseball movies is "A League of their Own" in which a crotchety coach played by Tom Hanks bellows, "there's no crying in baseball." But the irony is that in the movie he does, and he's addressing women. Now, it might be assumed that women tear up a bit more than men.
I have heard my son's coach say that phrase. I have hollered it more than once. Along with the other important baseball cheer, "just rub some dirt in it." Maybe those cheers are alright when there are bases to be run, a swing to be made, or some encouragement needing to be yelled from the dugout. For me they don't come naturally.
But there are other times. The bases were loaded. It was the bottom of the last inning. There were two outs. My son is up to bat. He had had an up and down season and lost his place in the batting order rather unkindly. His over all average had been great, but he's had a bad tournament. As a result, he had spent a lot of time in the dugout. Now, with the game on the line - to put away in the books, or to begin a rally - my son is at bat. The coaches had cleared the dugout to make sure everyone would at least be able to have played a little bit. So now my son's in the line up. With so much to prove to himself and to his coaches, with the game on the line for his teammates, he steps in the batters box.
First pitch was low and way outside, but called a strike. The next pitch is high and called for a ball. Not bad, 1 and 1. But then, the next pitch was right down the middle, a fast ball, too fast for his swing. A swing and a miss, 1 and 2. The next pitch a swing and a miss in the same place with another fast ball. He's out, the base-runners are stranded. Third out, the game's over and our team lost.
My son. Only eleven years old, wept as he headed toward the dugout. Maybe there's no crying in baseball. But where there are string passions, competition, and a desire to lift a team farther on, there will, I suppose always will be, some weeping. There was no condemnation, just a pat on his helmeted head and a fist bump. These coaches knew there was no shame in disappointment. In fact, that made the wet eyes dry even faster.
As soon as the tears appeared, they left. It was let out, over and done. If baseball's about anything, it's about forgiveness and second chances on another day. It was time to go home and play catch.