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| Coming to a Tee Near You |
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Part of a series, Distinct Impressions, by Joey Cope
It was night two of a 3-night business trip and the second La Quinta of the week. When I approached the clerk at the front desk, I could tell that my harried experiences of the past ten hours would not rival his. His tie was pulled slightly away from his neck and twisted at a strange angle. I felt a little like a detective on “Law and Order” as I contemplated whether it was humanly possible for him to have self-inflicted that fashion crime. I quickly scanned the lobby to see if the perpetrator was still nearby.
Before I could speak, the clerk sighed heavily, “Your room’s not ready.”
“But I have a reservation, and it’s after 5 o’clock, and I’ve been driving for a while, and I’m a La Quinta Special Returns member, and . . . and . . . you can’t do this to me!”
The clerk’s hands went to his head and he squeezed it like you might a watermelon that had almost slipped from your grasp. “No, it’s okay. I have rooms – they’re just not ready yet.”
I felt better as the blood in the vein on my forehead returned its contents to my vital organs. “Oh. Problems?”
His hands returned to the counter. He sighed again and pointed to a big sign on the other side of the lobby. “We have a baseball team coming in. They’re here for the state championship. We’re just running a little behind, but I should have you in a room in the next 15 minutes.”
On hearing that, I completed the mandatory check-in procedure and he directed me to a comfortable seat in the breakfast room. “We’ll come get you when your room’s ready. And, oh, you might want to avoid this room in about an hour. Pizza’s being delivered for the team. It will be a mad house.”
In just a while, the clerk came back, handed me my room card and directed me to the elevator. As I stepped out into my hall, I noticed big posters on almost every door on the floor. At the very least, the Dragons – or at least their poster makers – had a lot of spirit.
Oh, boy, I thought. Nothing like a bunch of adolescents pumped up for competition to share a hotel with. I began examining the radio on the nightstand to determine if it would play loud enough to drown out the revelry that was sure to come.
I planned my exit to avoid the breakfast room. I was already envisioning what my khaki pants would look like splattered with Dr Pepper and tomato sauce. Due to a miscalculation, I took the stairs that opened directly opposite ground zero.
Starting to back up the stairs, I glanced into the room. Fifteen four-year olds were sitting patiently as fifteen moms distributed pizza slices and cups of milk. No one spoke – or even moved. Their green jerseys and white caps made the scene almost serene. Forgetting my retreat, I hurriedly stumbled past the door and into the lobby.
The hotel clerk was standing there with his mouth slightly ajar. “I imagined they would be much bigger. I mean they are playing for the state championship.” His eyes never left the assembled Dragons.
I made my way into the parking lot where I encountered fifteen dads unloading a sundry of SUVs – all with painted windows proclaiming the exploits and abilities of the mighty Dragons. The designated assembly spot for suitcases and bat-bags was behind my car. And since the dads didn’t seem to be as organized as the moms inside, I struck up a conversation to while away the time.
“So, playing for the big state championship, are you?” Various heads nodded. “Guess the boys are pretty pumped?” Nods all around. “Won’t be getting much sleep tonight, will they?”
Each father-turned-porter stopped what he was doing. One man stepped forward. “These boys are ready. We’ve been working with them for weeks. We have them mentally tuned for this. Nothing will deter them.”
I grinned a little at the “nothing will deter” speech. Nobody else thought it was humorous and it was apparently sacrilegious on my part to think otherwise.
“You guys know that this is just tee ball, don’t you?”
The speechmaker turned to face me. “It’s not ‘just tee ball,’ sir. These young men have been looking forward to this all of their lives.”
I noted the hint of a tear in the corner of his eye. I decided to back down. After all I was out-numbered and they were armed – even if they were just those little, aluminum pygmy bats.
“Of course,” I said jovially, as I slid behind the wheel of my car. “Good luck to you fellows.”
As I drove away, I tried to think of what little guys look forward to all of their lives. Being President. Being an astronaut. Banana fudgecicles. Going to first grade. And then there’s the big one – the state championship in tee ball.
Although I do imagine that playing ball and having fun made the list, I imagine the tee ball championship was planted there by someone else. As the misshapen dads trudged across the parking lot like beasts of burden, I shuddered. Being “the best” escapes most of us. The quest for the top saddens most of us. The unrealistic expectations of others frustrate most of us.
I chuckled a bit. Tomorrow, even if they lose the championship and their parents are moping, the diminutive Dragons would be relieved. And they’d be looking forward to the rest of their summers – free of practice and pep talks and filled with fun.
Despite the pressures the world imposes, God allows happiness to find its way to most of us.
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