It turned into a pitcher's duel and finished in regulation (six innings) tied at 2-2.
Miraculously, both teams, digging deep to find pitchers who could eat innings, kept it scoreless. Batters would get on base, but could not find home. Fielders made spectacular plays. And then came the 10th inning.
Our team scored the go-ahead run in the top of the 10th. All we had to do was shut the door in the bottom of the inning.
Sadly, the youngsters who had adrenaline popping their caps right off their heads, could not stop the other team from scoring. Twice.
It was 10:20pm when the winning run crossed the plate. It was almost as if my son's team didn't know what to do next. As if they didn't believe they had actually lost the game. Somehow, maybe, they would get another chance. They had tried so hard to get to this point. Did it all really have to just burst like a huge balloon?
My son didn't take it too well. He was upset. And I was glad. We should be upset when we experience failure. How much more human can you be than that?
I didn't get a chance to talk to him after the game, I had to rush home to squeeze in a little more than three hours of sleep before my morning shift began. But I did send him this e-mail before he woke up the next morning.
"It is easy to learn how to enjoy winning. But it is far more difficult to learn how to deal with losing."
His response:
"I agree."
That was probably the easiest lesson he has ever learned.
I didn't have to say a word after that.
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