Take Me Out to the...no,

better yet, just take me home.

Looked for an angry face - I liked this one!

We went to a softball game while on the island.  We were so excited to be able to do it, too.  KIO has a summer league and they play other teams in the neighboring towns.  Of course, if you are the visiting team to KI, you have to take a ferry the game!  How cool is that?  Anyway...

We just happned to be vacationing when the team would have a home game.  And a double header at that!  Perfect!  It was a nice evening, too.  Not too hot or humid.  Good game night.  So we piled chairs into the back of mom and dad's van, squeezed ourselves in around them and took off for the field.  When we arrived, we saw we had two choices for seating.  We could set our chairs in the grass a short distance behind home plate, or we could sit in the small set of bleachers along the third baseline!  We opted for the bleachers.  Little did we know we should have chosen door number 1.

Now, I was reading to see some smoking of cigarettes and hear a bit of unpleasant language.  And I was even ready to see some beers getting tossed back after the game.  And I assumed that when my two young boys sat down across from 3rd base, the players would puff their chests, ready to be professionals and show these kids a fun game!  Silly me.  Never assume.

I was unprepared for the drinking to be mixed with the playing.  I was unprepared for the foul language that came out of the mouth of the left fielder as he passed by my boys, their eyes wide with shock and uncertainty.  At that moment, I was uncertain myself.  Should we leave?  Is this normal and will it continue, or is the player just having a bad day?  Maybe he's feeling some regret.  After all, I did notice some of the other players catch on to the fact that two young boys were planted front and center awaiting an exciting game.  So I mad the decision to stay.  Like I said earlier - we should have chosen door number 1.

Our KI team, whom we were wanting to cheer on to victory, caused me to shake my head in disappointment.  The foul language continued.  The sportsmanship was just as bad.  The team was anything but a "team".  They cussed at one another, they insulted one another, they had not one encouraging thing to say.  They were disrespectful to their coach, and he was equally so to them.  The oppossing team went quietly about their business of playing softball, while the home team chewed itself to bits.  Two of the outfielders came in and got into a yelling match with one of the two female players on the team.  It happened right in front of us.  That's when I grabbed the hands of my sons and said, "It's time to go.  They are not modeling good sportsmanship."  They were not modeling anything of good quality, but the sportsmanship aspect was what stood out at that moment and my boys did NOT need to witness it.  We headed to the playground.

To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement.  I love KI.  It has been part of my growing up years.  The place is full of fond memories of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.  And now new memories are being made with my boys and my husband.  It's too bad.  I was hoping to add the ball game to my long list of "Things I love about KI."  My mom told me the team has never been any good.  I can understand why.  It's funny.  Earlier that day I saw a young boy wearing a T-shirt with the very familiar saying, "There is no 'I' in TEAM".  Someone needs to explain that to the group of people who insult one another and occassionally play softball.  (I just can't bring myself to call them a team.)