Yesterday I would have thought the worst thing I could come back tonight and post was that we'd lost the playoff game to the Astros. Instead, I come back to say coming in second place (after nine nerve wracking innings and a 1-2 final score) wasn't the worst thing that happened. The worst thing that could possibly happen to ANYONE is watching a dad after the game completely lose it, berate and physically assault his NINE YEAR OLD SON, knock down the league president, get ejected from the field, and storm off screaming that his son "blew three chances to win the game."
All this class act in front of his crying son and about 100 stunned parents and baseball players.
What the hell is wrong with people? It's a freaking baseball game. Yeah, it was tense. Yeah, we probably could have won it a couple of times, but seriously, who the hell cares at the end of the day? Is it worth acting like an asshat in front of your kid?
The parents and kids looked at each other like they'd seen a train wreck. I was crying. It was AWFUL. Some people wanted to call the police. I feared for the child going home to a dad like that. His wife was sitting next to me and silently left to follow her husband to the car. Someone else took the little boy home.
It was nine o'clock by the time the game ended, it was getting dark, a storm was rolling in. The wind was blowing but it had been sucked out of our sails at that point. William was crying not because they lost but because he didn't hit the ball when we needed a hit most. He said the pressure on him had been terrible. I told him how much we loved him and he said he was not only very glad that boy's dad wasn't his dad, but that he actually felt sorry and scared for that little boy.
Instead of heading for ice cream we all decided to head home. Hey asshat dad, thanks for nothing.