I've been stewing for months for the start of baseball season.
The Royals, Bearcats, Mustangs and Hounds all play second, third, fourth and fifth fiddle to the tee-ball action.
But wait, we live in Northwest Missouri.
That means it rains on practice days, yet is nice when I'm stuck inside all day.
The boy, like most boys his age, has been excited to get on the field and play.
After getting news from the awesome people at Maryville Parks & Rec that I'd get a coaching slot again this year, I was even more excited.
And then I got an invite to join my church's adult softball league.
Color me ecstatic.
I really don't care how much time it's going to take up, I'm going to enjoy being on the field again. I'm going to enjoy teaching youngsters to learn and love the game that meant so much to me growing up.
Barring the strike during the 1994 season, and the 1990 lockout (this resulted in me following football), baseball was the sport that really interested me the most.
I wasn't ever really that good at baseball, but I have always had a passion for it.
The atmosphere, the camaraderie, peanuts and sunflower seeds. The sound a ball makes when it hits the bat. The heckling of the batter (apparently now banned from youth play). The digging of cleats in the dirt, the smells and sights at a ball park.
Heck, I don't even mind the mosquitoes on a muggy hot night in the summer, as long as baseball is involved.
"Take me out to the ballgame" is one of the first songs we taught the boy to sing.
So here we are, week two of practices, and week infinity of not-good weather.
I'm struggling to keep my boy interested.
The whole point of spending the time and money on equipment is to instill a love for the game.
It's hard to do that when we can't step on the field without sinking into mud. And it's not hard to imagine what a group of six-year-old boys can do when presented with mud.
There is always a solution, I know, but we're kind of lacking indoor facilities here.
Luckily for me (and this may be a biased opinion), I have the awesomest kid in the world.
I don't even have to bring up baseball, he does it for me.
Not a single morning before school or afternoon at the office goes by without him talking about his batting stance, the positions on the field or some other random aspect of the game.
Page 2 of 2 - That kid makes me so proud. The wife and I must be doing something right.
We have a real blue-blooded American boy, and I'm starting to see some of that attitude in his sister.
Not sure how interested she'll be in softball or fishing or anything like that, but I can see that Bird (self-proclaimed nickname) is interested in what her brother likes.
I guess maybe she will get into these things via osmosis. Pipe dreams.
Another thing that has occurred to me after just two hour-long softball practices - I am horribly out of shape.
I'm not old enough to hurt as bad as I do after just running around in the outfield and hitting a few balls.
That's kind of an awakening in itself.
Not only am I learning the importance of teaching kids to enjoy a game, I'm learning the importance of teaching myself that I need to take better care of my body.
No offense to those that read this, but I see some of the older guys on the team looking like champs out there at practice while all I want to do is go sit in a hot tub.
Actually fellas, you should take that as a compliment.
Taking it all into consideration, I couldn't be more excited for the coming months.
Jesse Murphy is managing editor at the Maryville Daily Forum. He can be reached at email@example.com