We've not had much experience with E or me feeling the need to stick up for our kids. There's the occassional kerfuffle at the beach or playground where I tell some kid to scram, but nothing that even sticks out in my mind. We've had great coaches, great teachers and generally an easy go of it with all things kid politics. Until now.
Baseball season started at the end of February and we still haven't figured out if The Athlete's coach is entirely unethical or if he just doesn't like kids that don't have his last name. Every week reveals another crack in his creepy facade and it's just becoming too much for us. His son is a great baseball player, but he is also obnoxious, rude and allowed to do anything he pleases. I watched "Coach" (I do use the term loosely) fudge the line up this weekend and try to remove kids at the bottom of the order in an effort to put his son back at the plate. My instinct is to rip his head off and use it in the next inning, but I somehow catch myself and realize that wouldn't be in the best interest of my child. I barely catch myself. I daydream a little too often about letting him have it. I'm just dying to go all "That Mom" on him.
It is definitely painful to watch The Athlete progressively become less confident in himself as this idiot plows through the season favoring his son and a couple of other teammates. Head down, hat over his eyes, sitting on the bench . . . Not my favorite pose. It's even more painful to hear from other teams and coaches that they don't like playing us and that our Coach's interpretation of the rules is questionable. Being categorized with the likes of him is the much bigger problem for us. That is not how we roll.
So what's a girl to do? Drag out my Nita Holland book of crazy and just get it off my chest? Report him to the League? Take The Athlete off the team? They all seem possible, but none seem just right. But it would be a relief to be "That Mom" just this one time . . . No one deserves it more than my Baby Boy