It's the Little Things I Want to Remember

The cold hard aluminum stands.
The smell of clay, gravel, and dust.
The excitement in the air if a pop fly goes up.
The frustration when the ball is overthrown.
The sounds: the ball hitting the glove; the bat crack as it makes contact with the ball; the shouts of the girls in the dugouts, encouragement from the parents, disparagement from the parents and coaches, and general disgust with empires in the stands.
My pose in the stands, ready to jump if a great play is made.
Patty making wisecracks about the umps and margaritas.
Gabe screaming, "Come on Riverside! Let's get some excitement out there!" in his raspy voice.
Lori, continually repeating the rules for me but also ever-organized, getting the next event together.
Papa Spud, cheerful but serious, telling K to use her hips when hitting.
Coach Boatwright, smiling but ready to lay into the girls for laziness.
Someone shouting, "Lucky number 13!" and Justin saying, "Boo-yah!"
Sara pitching. Aryan pitching. Kailyn making the play at shortstop. Catie stopping one and throwing to Katie. Blanca and Hayden getting the out at home. Aryan making the grand slam. K catching one at center. K missing one at center. K hitting in the infield, not making it to first ("she's a hefty lefty!"). K hitting harder and outrunning the throw to first. K running like the wind around the bases.

I'm going to miss this. What a season.