Thursday, June 20, 2019

Dear Professional Athlete

Dear professional athlete who blew my son off,

You were a 10 year old boy once. A boy who went to bed dreaming of one day being on that field (you know... the one you’re currently playing on). Remember? You couldn’t get thoughts of baseball out of your head? 
You woke up to eat breakfast in hurry before scurrying out for your daily dose of neighborhood baseball. Your front yard was probably the only one that had bases perfectly placed as you hosted a “home” game. Your mom continuously yelling out the front door to “stop hitting the windows”. 
You signed up each year without fail for your local little league, right? You probably had only one goal in mind and that was to work your butt off to make the all-star team. 
You probably watched dozens of videos of your MLB favorites (every. single. day.) trying to soak in their every move. Because of this, you probably had an incredible knowledge of the game at 10 years old. 
Your mom most likely washed practice clothes and uniforms 4-5x weekly trying to keep up. She also probably rolled her eyes each time you came to her, cleats in hand, saying they no longer fit. Year in and year out, your family most likely dropped thousands of dollars to support your passion. Without a doubt, your mom was your loudest and proudest fan... to the point of embarrassment.
Your life was probably made when your stepfather gifted you tickets to see a professional baseball game. There was something so special about rooting on your home team and praying you’d some day make it there. It was always your dream, right? I know because this is my son and our lives.
It seems that somewhere along the way, you’ve forgotten that 10 year old little boy you once were. You know how I know this? Because when my son (along with a handful of other little boys) came to support you during your All-Star game, on your home field..... you waved him off. You put your hand up to a 10 year old boy who only wanted the autograph of the players (yeah...you) that he so desperately wishes to be. This little boy, who you once were, looked on in sadness as you held your hand up to him and proceeded to spend the entire post game festivities wrapped up in your girlfriend’s arms. It wasn’t just you, but several of your teammates who walked past these kids and didn’t think twice (thank you to the TWO of you who did stop and say hello to them). Yes, I did loudly ask your teammate if he was serious as he walked past the kids, leaving them disappointed.
 I get that you’re young and maybe you don’t fully understand the impact you have. Maybe you don’t realize that you’re living out these little boys dreams. The look on not only my son’s face but those of all the other little boys, crushed me as a mother.  
Tonight, my son learned a very important and very expensive ($100 tickets, $50 food/drinks, and $8 for a ball to have players sign) lesson on humility. As we walked out of your home stadium, he made his mama a promise.
 He vowed to never be like you. He vowed to always remember where he came from. He vowed to always remember that moment when he was 10 years old and was made to feel he wasn’t worth the 3 seconds of someone’s time. He vowed to never make another 10 year old boy feel the way he left feeling.
You’re a good kid. I’m sure of it and this won’t stop us from coming to support you and your team. This won’t stop my son from working towards his dream. But next game, please stop and thank those little boys. You owe it to that 10 year old boy you were once. 

Sincerely,
The Mom of THAT 10 year old little boy

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