Managing My Home Plate – Why Are People So Rude??


I have had it with people today. Everyone has been so fucking rude and demanding. 

And, to think, my day started off so well…

I woke up this morning to a text from one of the baseball moms telling me she knows it may be too late, but could I order a Team shirt for her son. No problem, that’s what I do because I’m the team manager. After a short conversation about our kids, I texted, I hope you guys have a great weekend! And she texted back that I was such a kind and thoughtful person for letting her order a shirt late. I indulged in the compliment for a few moments and smiled my way through the rest of this god damned day. 

Fast-forward to this afternoon. My son and I had some errands to run so we got MM to drop us off at the mall near our house. I ran into my aunt who asked for my son’s baseball schedule because she’s hoping to catch a game. I told her about the up-coming home tournament in July and gave her the dates. She told me to text her that weekend to remind her. I explained that I would try, but I couldn’t guarantee anything because MM coaches, son plays on two baseball teams and is on the field 5 days a week, and I manage the competitive team so we’re kinda busy and it might slip my mind. Right there, in the middle of the mall, she started scolding me about family obligations. To which I thought to myself, are you fucking kidding me right now?? The friend who was with my aunt, must have seen me roll my eyes into next week because she looked at my aunt and said, “maybe you could put it in your phone calendar so that you’ll remember.” Like a lightbulb going on, she lit up and replied, “oh, yeah, I guess I could.” And on that note, my son and I left. My mood had shifted. 

Then, when MM picked us up at the mall, I told him we were running late and that maybe he should go do what he needed to do and come back for us. For the second consecutive day, he snapped at me. To which I put him in his place and told him to stop being so damn rude. He snapped that he had about two hours of work ahead and he couldn’t waste time because he has a lot on his plate. Well, so do I. Everybody does. It’s called adulting. I explained to him that he didn’t have to be so mean just because he’s having a bad day. So the rest of our shopping trip was ruined by everyone’s bad moods. 

Don’t kid yourself into thinking that my day was over yet. The rude people in my life never fucking end. I’m starting to think I surround myself with the wrong kind of people. I sense a change coming in the near future. But I digress. 

After we dropped the kid off at his friends place for a sleepover, we were close to our old house so we thought we’d take a drive through our old neighbourhood. We noticed one of our old neighbours in her yard and stopped to say hello. As soon as she saw me, she squeezed my arm and said, “my goodness, you’ve put on some weight since you left the neighbourhood!” This woman obviously does not have a filter about anything. She’s critical, judgmental, and down-right rude. Thanks, mean neighbour lady, for reminding me that 40 has not been kind to me. The wrinkles, the weight, the grey hair…I mean, it’s not like I see it in the mirror every morning and I had almost forgotten. Seriously though, it’s been hard, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not a waif-ish, anorexic 97lbs anymore. Age has a way of forcing you to accept the things you cannot change. Instead of starving myself, I’m now a healthy, happy yoga-loving 110lbs. This is who I am, lady. Accept me or go the fuck away. And thanks again for reminding me why I wanted to leave that community of judgey seniors.

Demanding, judgmental, self-absorbed, and fucking mean – these are the people I’ve had to deal with today. But I’m holding onto my morning conversation with the baseball mom because her conversation was the only one that has mattered to me. And I am grateful for that. 

Namaste, MFers. 


Managing My Home Plate – Practice Number One


It was the first practice for my son’s competitive baseball team last night and I’m already disgusted. The head coach and I are not on good terms.

Some background for you; we’ve had Coach Marv as a hockey coach in our first year of initiation. I was the team manager, so I worked closely with him as a mediator between him and the parents. MM coached with him. Coach Marv was not a favourite coach in the division for good reason. One of those reasons was because he is one of those guys who treated 5 year olds like they are 15 and now 9 year olds like they’re 19. He was tolerable back then because there were always 5 coaches on the ice and we, as parents, didn’t have to deal with him directly most of the time.

As well, our sons are friends. They’ve been friends since the first day in kindergarten and they remain friends to this day. That was almost 5 years ago. There have been numerous sleepovers and both boys have played at each other’s houses on a regular basis. Because the boys are friends, we’ve become friends with Coach Marv and his now ex-wife, Jenn. They’ve recently divorced, but we remain friends with both of them.

We are friends. On some kind of inexplicable level. But that would be an overstatement. Because I’ve had it with him. He’s an asshole. I’ve always known it, but I chose to ignore it or laugh it off. Until now.

When I found out he was head of the 9 year old baseball division this year, I was a little disappointed because he’s known to take on too much and do too little. But, because we knew that Coach Matt and Coach Wally were also coaching, we were relieved. I was hoping that Wally and Matt would take over most of the duties on the team because they’re capable, intelligent, and sports-oriented. I knew my son would learn a lot from them. My personal hope was that Coach Marv would fade to the background and we wouldn’t even notice him.

I was wrong.

Coach Wally was out of town last night so Marv actually had to do some coaching. He didn’t seem too impressed about it when he commented to me, “I spend way too much time at this damn diamond.” To which I half-jokingly replied, “yeah, but you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t love it!” He grunted and then walked away.

While Marv was writing some notes on his clipboard as the kids were warming up in the outfield, I told Marv that my son was playing at tryouts while he was sick and I didn’t realize it until afterwards. I explained that I kept my son home from school for two days afterwards and that he missed his basketball tournament on Saturday. “He must really wanna play ball,” I stated with a smile, proud of my son’s dedication to baseball.

Marv didn’t even look me in the eye when he muttered, “well, he better not miss any ball practices.”

I was stunned. How fucking rude! My jaw dropped, I stood up from my lawn chair, and I looked him in the eye. “Seriously?? That’s what you have to say to me?? We’re done here, Marv.”

And then I walked the fuck away.

Not a good start to the season.