Talk is cheap, baseball is expensive

Be the change you want to see in the world. -- Mahatma Ghandi

I've never had a desire to be a soccer mom, shuttling kids from ballet to little league in my trusty minivan, sitting around twittering with other soccer moms about which detergent best removes pink bubble gum from chambray and "What the heck was Mary Jane thinking, dyeing her hair that awful shade of red, anyway? She looks like Elmo's grandma, for Pete's sake!"

But I'm so proud of my son now. He gave up going to a magnet school in part because he wanted to play sports. Last year he ran track. He came in nearly last on the team, but he stuck with it the whole season, even through the Saturday-7-a.m. practices his mama hated so much.This year he's playing baseball and loving it, though they've lost miserably every game but one. (Thank you, Lord, for the mercy rule. We have high hopes they'll play a full game soon.)

It's awfully hard to keep quiet in the stands,  though. You can't help but overhear the parent talk. Before I get into that, let me give you a little background. Our team plays on a rec field because it's right beside the school. For whatever reason -- rumor has it the county doesn't want spend the money -- the lights aren't turned on. I don't think there is a scoreboard. If there is, it doesn't work either, because keeping score during a home game is next to impossible. (Note to self: make friends with the scrawny blonde teen with the sprial notebook.) There are no concessions and the bathrooms are chained shut.

Tonight they played an away game at a newer school on a lighted field with a working scoreboard. Even their uniforms were new and as one parent pointed out, their shoes all matched. The parent theorized that the school must have bought those, too. We had to buy our own kids' shoes.

When my son got his jersey, he ended up with an old tank-top version because he was JV, and the varisty team got first dibs. But he was so proud to get it. It doesn't matter to him that it's used. It just matters that he's on the team.

Tonight I overheard a group of our parents complaining about how we have to play in the without lights, which will shorten our home games. Complaining about how the scoreboard doesn't work. Complaining about how they can't get the hand-me-down mud stains out of the white pants. And then complaining about paying the $4 to get into this game. We don't charge for ours. We don't sell concessions. Is it fair that other teams have these things and we don't? No, but where do these parents think all that money comes from? (Oooh, dear Genie. Please work your magic! Better yet, cough it up, Mom. Theirs did.)

Truthfully, I guess I don't even know where the money comes from for the lights. Or how much it costs to run them. Or why the rec department won't turn them on. But I'm new here. I've been a baseball mom for about a month and I'm just now learning what problems we have. They've been at it since middle school. I heard them talking about how these kids were one of the best teams around back then. So this pitiful losing streak must be the school's fault for giving them inadequate equipment, right? (We can't be expected to work under these conditions!)

I wonder if these parents belong to the booster club. Does our school even have a booster club? The web site says it does, but honestly that's the only evidence I've seen that one exists.

I wonder what would happen if, instead of complaining, these parents actually organized a car wash or a yard sale or something? Even though we have pitifully few parents in the stands during home games, we could clear at least $100,  I would guess, if we charged $4 a head. We could pad the fund a little more by selling Cokes and water from a cooler. The kids that come to see their friends and socialize would definitely buy that. Surely what we earned during home games would buy a jersey or two, or maybe wood to build a temporary scoreboard. Maybe even an hour or two of light to play by.

I wonder how much better our team would play if they felt like their community and their parents were behind them?

You can bet your behind I'll be a member of the booster club by the week's end.