Take Me Out....

Wish me luck.

This evening marks the first practice of the youngest Llama-ette's softball team. The gel is playing "transition ball" this spring, which means she's part of a gaggle of six, seven and eight year-olds who essentially don't know which way round the diamond to run yet.

Because I'm helping to coach the eldest gel's AAA team, and because I don't have any experience dealing with pure novices, I tried to be cautious in my dealings with the League about getting too involved with the youngest gel's team. The conversation went something like this:

Robbo: Well, I don't think I can be manager, but I'll be happy to help out with the coaching.

League: Okay, you're the coach.

And there we are, so to speak.

Anyhoo, it should be interesting. I'm thinking that the best way to instill those basic softball skills into the team's collective little mind is to take Crash Davis's advice and scare 'em:

Oh, and speaking of coaching the eldest gel, she and I are going to sit down later this evening and watch The Bad News Bears together. You know, just to get in the proper frame of mind.