Pitching to Mom

I think Peter was born with a fascination with bats and balls. Even as a baby he had a blue rubber bat that would make a noise when it was squeezed. He loved that bat and always wanted it close. He would put it in his mouth and chew on it. He put it in his right hand and would swing it in the air while lying on his back. He even took it to bed with him. I wish I knew what he was thinking when he was playing with this toy.

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He loved everything to do with balls. I remember the Christmas he was two years old and received a plastic basketball hoop (about  3 feet high) and a rubber basketball. He spent nearly every minute of Christmas Day shooting that little ball at the hoop. He tried to get everyone involved even Grandma and Grandpa when they came to visit. At first it was cute then it became a little annoying, but he wouldn’t give up trying to get us to play with him. He was not very excited to take breaks from playing basketball to play with his other toys or eat or even snack on his Christmas goodies. He was single focused on that basketball and hoop.

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As he got older, he developed an interest in all games that involved a ball. I was fascinated as I watched his passion for sports and balls evolve and the development of his coordination. I observed him as he developed his talents, especially throwing and catching a baseball. His dexterity started to evolve, his arm grew stronger, and his hand eye coordination was amazing for such a young boy.

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He took an interest in baseball and I tried to encourage him to develop his talents. Although I may have pushed too hard, he became a very good baseball player. 

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From a young age his eye hand coordination was exceptional, and he loved playing. He was excited when we finally signed him up for T-Ball. By this time, he was about seven years old and he excelled in this environment.

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When he was nine, he wanted to play little league baseball, so we signed him up. After the first day of practice his coach talked to me about him and told me that he had a great arm and he would like to turn him into a pitcher. I agreed, and Peter became a little league pitcher. He could throw hard, and the coach taught him how to throw a changeup and another pitch or two. But his fastball was his bread-and-butter pitch. 

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I remember the game when it was his turn to pitch. He was big for his age and that day he pitched a great game. Little league only played seven innings and in the seven innings he pitched he struck out 17 batters. He proved the coach was right in making him a pitcher.

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As time went on, he became a better pitcher who could really throw a fast ball and he had a great curveball.

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One day, when he was twelve, he asked me if I could catch while he pitched to me. We decided that it made more sense if we had a batter stand at the plate and we would be able to better determine his accuracy. We asked his mother if she would volunteer for the job. She said “No”! and we asked why. She explained very clearly, “because Peter would hit me with a pitch.”

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We reassured her that that wouldn’t happen, and she agreed to pretend to bat. The first pitch Peter threw was a fastball headed directly towards his mother who froze and just stood there and watched that ball until it hit her. She dropped like a rock, screaming, crying, and holding her leg that was hit. Both Peter and I felt bad and hurried to her to soothe her and calm her down and beg for forgiveness. She was hurting and we were feeling guilty and terrible for talking her into participating in this activity.

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The truth about this experience is that Carol was hurt both physically and emotionally because we let her down and didn’t protect her like we promised. She had a right to be upset and even angry but the amazing thing about this incident was that she didn’t remain angry for too long. She loved us enough to forgive us and give her trust back to us. As parents we should remember that our kids can and will do dumb things and it is our role to teach them to seek forgiveness, learn to make better decisions, and always let them know that we love them unconditionally. 

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Happy failing forward,

Calvert Cazier  


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