‘Tis baseball season and there is a certainty to it.

A guarantee that every night the poor washer and dryer will be hustling, giving it their all.

Doing their best to wipe out stains, getting kid-sized uniforms ready for another night to play ball.

I’m beginning to feel that this is as close as I will get to making the bed, this morning.

Creature Comforts

Snack time for our friend George.

SPENT GRAIN COOKIES

1/2 cup Melted Butter

1/2 cup Kahlua

3/4 cup Brown Sugar

2 Eggs

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

1 1/2 cup Spent Grain

2 cups Flour

1 teaspoon Baking Powder

1/2 teaspoon Salt

1/2 cup Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Mix together the melted butter, Kahlua, brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract.

Mix in the spent grain.

Mix in the flour, baking powder, and salt.

Mix in the chocolate chips.

Drop Tablespoon sized balls of dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 8 minutes.

Makes about 36 cookies.

Revised Source:  craftbeering.com

SPENT GRAIN BREAD

1 cup, plus 2 Tablespoons, Water
2 1/4 teaspoons Active Dry Yeast
1 teaspoon Sugar
2 Tablespoons Honey
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
3 cups Flour
1 teaspoon Salt
1 1/2 cups Spent Grain

Combine water, yeast, and sugar.
Let sit for 5 minutes or until foamy.
Stir yeast mixture into remaining ingredients and knead for 10 minutes.
Cover with a towel and let dough double in size, about one hour.
On a floured surface, knead dough to remove air bubbles.
Shape dough into loaves.
Oil loaf pans and insert dough.
Cover with a towel and allow to rise again for one hour.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Brush dough with olive oil and bake for about one hour or until lightly browned and an inserted knife comes out clean.

Serves about 12.
Revised Source: “Spent Grain Honey French Bread” recipe at spoonuniversity.com.

Tired from a week of work.  Tired from a 5PM spin class.  I sat in the gym locker room exhausted and stared down at my shoes.  That’s when I saw it, inspiration for this evening’s blog post.

My shoes say, “Portmore.” I had survived the week, taken the ship into port and had no more.  Brilliant.

Well, until I look at it now.  Uh, weak at best, weak at worst, just a plain weak ol’ idea.  Not good.

Just goes to show, extreme exhaustion may sometimes seem to generate brilliance in the moment, but most likely it’s just delirium.

Kids drink your water, take lots of naps, and don’t be like me.  Don’t look at your shoes for inspiration.

I’ve been a Little League coach so long that I’m eligible for a pension and there are a few things that no one associates with my style.

1. Aggressive coaching
2. Knowledge of the rules

Nope, I’m usually the happy go lucky coach.  Rules?  What rules?  La, la, la.  Let’s just have fun.

Well, going into tonight, my team of 9-year-olds were winless.  Nothing.  Nadda.

Tonight however we were playing strong and for whatever reason the moment was contagious for me.  Steal that base.  Stretch the hit for a double.  Swap out pitchers as needed.  Result:  early 11-3 lead.  Aggressive coaching.  Early success.

Then slowly the wheels started to come off.  Too many runners.  Too many walks.  Suddenly, we were clinging to a 2 run lead.  That’s when my brain clicked.  Give them a chance to win.  Dig deep.  Use the rules.  Do whatever it takes.

Embracing a Little League loop hole, I brought back in the starter as a closer.

First batter, almost botched grounder, but first base managed to hold on.  Out one.

Second batter, sky high popup and a snow cone catch by short.  Out two.

Third batter, grounder and a throw that beat the runner by a hair.  Out three.

Game over!  Game won!

I breathed a sigh of relief.  The baseball gods smiled.  The old dog manager had learned some new tricks.

After being asked for the third (or thirty-fourth) time, I reassured the family that I knew the schedule.

5:30 – Drop off Sam at baseball

6:15 – Take Jacob to baseball

Immediately after Jacob’s baseball was complete, head to Sam’s baseball.

After Sam’s baseball was complete, take everyone home.

Make sure to count the number of children collected, before bed.

No worries.  I’ve got this.

Reassured about the evening plans, but looking for confirmation about tomorrow morning, my wife asked for that schedule.

Somewhat annoyed, because I felt strongly that I had just proven myself, I responded.

“After I take Jacob to school, I pick up Sam for his doctor’s appointment…”

My dear wife stopped me and expressed a note of concern, “Jacob doesn’t have school.  It’s Summer break.”

Damn!  I was so close.  Old habits die hard, so cut me a break.  I really think I deserve a passing grade.

My team was in a bit of a funk.  One loss, two rain outs, we needed a distraction.  A reminder that baseball is first and foremost fun.

Now, we all know that Abner Doubleday didn’t really invent baseball, but we can say for certain that Dave Paulsen introduced the “Banana Throw Competition” into baseball practice.

Sit back and watch baseball history (“You’re welcome, in advance”).

Behold, the first ever Banana Throw Competition

…in slow mo…

Wondering if I made a difference, wondering if I reminded the kids to just have fun, I turned to a player leaving practice, and said in passing, “Banana.” A smile flashed across his face.

That baseball fans was a home run.

In passing, my 9-year-old son Ben mentioned that he would like a cat.  I reminded him of my mild cat allergy.  I thought that was the end of it, until last night…

NIGHTMARE ON PURR STREET

Drifting off to sleep, my mind wandered deep.  Deep to a place that I had shut off.  Deep to a corner of my brain, where only fears remain.  Purr Street.

In the dream, a friend announced that they had purchased young Ben a cat.  Ben was of course excited.  I was shaking with anger and fear.

I tried to stop the madness.  “We can’t take the cat.  I’m allergic,” I shouted.

The response from the chorus was robust, “You can get a prescription for that.”

I whined, “I should not have to take a pill for a cat.”

The chorus glared at me in disappointment over my selfish behavior.

“We have a perfectly good dog.  Play with him,” I begged.

“Isn’t this cat cute?,” the chorus redirected, as it help aloft an adorable tabby kitten.

I jolted myself awake.  My heart racing.  Body covered in nervous sweat.  The dog had a look of concern.

What I said…  “I have some clean clothes for you to put in your room.”

What I meant…  “Dad worked really hard to wash, dry, and fold your clothes.  The least you can do is carry them to your room and place them in your dresser.”

What my teen heard…  “Take these clothes to your room.  After that, it’s your call as to their fate.”

What my teen decided…  “Pile on the floor, it is.”

I like the cereal bowl inserted into the mound of clean (and formerly folded) clothes.  Nice touch.

My oldest son Jacob (age 14) was reflecting on his little brother Ben (age 9).

“You know, if what some of Ben says was not so funny, it would be kind of stupid.” (Not sure if that qualifies as a compliment, but that’s beside the point.)

Yes, son, that skill will serve Ben well in life.  Just look how far it has taken me. (Oh and yes, we’ll take it as a compliment.  I have learned that is the happiest path.)