How to Ready Your Kids for Opening Day: The 7 Spring Training Drills They Need to Learn

How we trained Ella to understand and successfully participate in Opening Day.

With Opening Day around the corner, I decided it was time to prepare my daughter for her first baseball game. Sure, she'd seen about 60 on television last year, but this is the first time she'd get the full, live experience: the fresh smell of grass filling the stadium, the wind blowing against her skin, the sound of the drunk behind her shouting at the opponent's right fielder because his name rhymes with "smelly."

So Ella, Brittany and I indulged in our very own Klems Spring Training. If the players need two months to get in shape, certainly it's not unreasonable for fans to dedicate one week of preparation for the season ahead. We owe it to the team. With that, we practiced the seven drills that all Reds fans should work on before attending their first game (especially if it's a Cincinnati Reds Opening Day).

Drill #1
Dress Like a Fan
The most important rule of going to a Reds game is to wear something that's red or says "Reds" on it. If you're dressed in the other team's colors you'll likely get booed, and if you're wearing a Bengals' hat you're obviously drunk.

Ella and I scoured her closet and found exactly 6.4% of her outfits are acceptable (a low percentage, by my estimates). This number skyrockets to 100% if she wears her Reds hat—which, to me, should be worn at all times anyway. We tried on each outfit and stretched them out so they will be loose and ready to go.
Check it off the list.

Drill #2
How to Properly Eat Peanuts
Eating a peanut at a baseball game is an art form. Some people crack them open with their fingers, some with their teeth. Others soak them in their beer until the shell practically falls off. My preference is to eat off the salt and then crack the shell using the left back-row of my teeth.

This was Ella's favorite drill, of course, as she practiced with everything she could find: spoon, shoe, remote, notepad, photo album, baby monitor, squeaky toy that had been missing under the couch for weeks. By the end of practice, she was a pro. I consider this her greatest asset as a fan.
Check it off the list.

Drill #3
Chant "Let's Go, Reds, Let's Go (clap, clap)"
There are numerous cheers at the Reds games ("Clap Your Hands, Stomp Your Feet," "Walks will Haunt" and my personal favorite, "(dun dun) GO!"), but to master any cheer you must start with the basics: "Let's Go, Reds, Let's Go (clap, clap)."

Ella can say a few words like "mumuma" and "daaaaa" and "pbbbbt," but her grasp of the language is limited. We decided that squealing was an acceptable alternative. My wife worked with her on clapping, doing it in rhythm each time I did the cheer. This became increasingly difficult because my wife is the worst practicer of all-time, losing her concentration and replacing "clapping" with "tickling in the belly." Years from now, when Ella is at a Reds game with friends and they start this chant ... well, let's just say she'll learn a valuable lesson: Listen to dad, not mom.
Check it off the list.

Drill #4
Picking the Winner in the Great Reds Race
For those of you unfamiliar with this, the Reds have a video race on the scoreboard called "The Great Reds Race." It features three challengers: Mr. Red (the baseball head), Rosie Red (the girl baseball head) and Mr. Red Leg (the baseball head with a curly mustache). They race around the diamond and the winner stands high on an Olympic-looking podium to celebrate.

Choosing a Red is like choosing a tattoo: Once you pick one, you're stuck with that Red for life. I grew up in an era of young Mr. Red, so he's mine. My wife always pulls for women, so she's a Rosie supporter. Ella currently has a clean slate, so I gave her the background information on all the Reds mascots so she could form her own opinion and make her choice without bias:

"Ella, here's all you have to know:
Mr. Red Leg is old, crusty and has dirty bugs crawling out of his 'stache.
Rosie Red, well, she kicks puppies.
Mr. Red, on the other hand, is a kind, loving soul who works at homeless shelters and helps feed the poor."
We'll see whom she picks on Opening Day.
Check it off the list.

Drill #5
How to Sneak Down to a Better Seat
No matter what part of the park you're located in, there are always better seats. Always. And around the 5th inning, many of those seats become available.

In our living room, I placed an empty chair that sat closer to the TV and lower than our couch. We sat on the couch watching "Wire-to-Wire: The Story of the 1990 Cincinnati Reds Championship Season." About an hour into the game (video), I made Ella practice making a mad dash to the open chair. (How she ended up in her mother's shoes, I have no idea.) After several days, she'd race to the chair without me prompting her.
Check it off the list.

Drill #6
Do the Wave
A vital element to any baseball game is the wave. With six long off-season months, it's understandable that you may fall out of practice—your legs are stiff, arms glued to your keyboard, can't remember how long you should stand in waving position (3.1 seconds). I find that practicing at work is helpful. In fact, start doing it once every five minutes and see if everyone else slowly joins in. If so, you can add "Started Wave" to your resume.

Ella can't actually stand from a sitting position yet, but she can wave at herself in the mirror. We spent one full Saturday in front of the dining room mirror waving. It may not be perfect (and may look less like a crowd-wave and more like a hello-wave), but for an 8-month-old who still thinks it's OK to poop through an outfit, it'll do.
Check it off the list.

And Finally …
Drill #7
Falling Asleep on Dad's Shoulder As You Exit the Game
It's a dad's most important role on game day. I've spent all off-season lifting heavy toys, walking with bags of salt on my shoulder and bumping into coffee-table corners without falling over in preparation. I've even had a few test runs at family parties and the results are promising.

Ella has held up her end of the bargain, and has even practiced falling asleep on my shoulder with her Reds hat on, in order to find the most comfortable position—for her, of course, not dad.
Check it off the list.

While I know all of this sounds silly, it's important to me—less as a baseball fan and more as a dad. I know that one day she'll look back at pictures and say, "I don't remember that." And that's OK, because I will. Baseball has always been an important part of my life, falling somewhere just after family but above, well ... everything else. I grew up watching Opening Days at home with my Mom and Dad, and they were all special moments for me. Now, years later, I get to share that special moment with my family. And I'm looking forward to every inning of it.

Play ball.The Life of Dad is updated every other Friday (barring the call of family duties). Thanks for stopping by and following my attempts to be a good dad, husband and co-ed softball player. I hope you visit again. -- Brian

You’re A Father, Charlie Brown …

The word “sacrifice” is defined as “giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy.” In biblical times, sacrifice meant giving up your most prized sheep to get in God’s good graces. During the Great Depression, it meant working degrading jobs just to feed your family. And yet neither of those compare to the unthinkable sacrifices you must make as a parent in the 21^st century.

Brittany: “Hey hun?”

Me: “Yes my lovely wife?”

Brittany: “When the baby is born, I think you should cut back on your softball playing.”

(Long pause.)

Me: “I’m leaving you.”

This scene took place right after I told Brittany about my plan to play an upcoming softball tournament. I’ve always been willing to give up a lot for the baby—partying, money, my dream of owning a pet elephant—but not softball. Never. It wasn’t until I heard this story that … well, you’ll see.

I’d like to tell you the tale of my friend, Weave, who sacrificed for his pregnant wife. We met on the softball diamonds of Lombard, Ill. back in the spring of 2002 (thanks to our mutual friend and coach, Joe). I was a young softball star in the making (stop laughing), and Weave was a big-hearted, seasoned veteran who brought his ALF bobblehead to the park each night for good luck. When asked to describe himself, he replied, “I’m the living embodiment of Charlie Brown—someone is always pulling the ball out from under me.”

His wife, Julie, also played on the team and spent most of her time scooping bad throws (from yours truly) at first base. Aside from being a gold-glover, she also swung a mighty stick and, as legend has it, once led our team in home runs—though you won’t find a single guy on the team willing to confirm this. More important, Julie is also pregnant with their first child.

Last week, Weave received an instant message from Tom (another friend):

"Want to go boo Sammy Sosa next Wednesday night at the White Sox game?" Weave, whose love of the White Sox rivals my love of the Reds, never passes up the offer to go to a game. He also never passes up the chance to boo Sammy Sosa. But after contemplating the offer for a few days, he turned it down.

“Julie always said I could go to games and such, but I just didn’t want to go,” he said. “I want to stay with her and be around as much as I can for the pregnancy.”

On Wednesday night Weave did what he normally does: ate some dinner, checked his fantasy teams, called friends and family to tell them about a hilarious column he read called The Life Of Dad and, of course, watched the White Sox. The starting pitcher that night was Mark Buehrle, a southpaw who’s so ineffective he’s often confused for a batting tee. Weave decided to channel surf, assuming that the Sox would get thumped. Around the 5th inning he noticed something interesting—Buehrle hadn’t given up a hit.

He stopped surfing.

“I knew right then, I swear,” Weave said. “I passed up the chance to see a no-hitter.”

Now, for you crazy non-baseball types, no-hitters are about as rare a phenomenon as Brittany passing up candy—sure, it happens, but not many have seen it and years can pass before it happens again. In fact, the last time a Red threw a no-hitter Ronald Regan was president, interest rates were 10% and I was in love with Winnie Cooper. I’d have given up anything—including Winnie—to be at that game.

Weave stared at the TV. The sixth, seventh and eighth innings passed and still no hits. He paced all over the living room. Julie, who had been online looking up baby strollers, joined him. She watched with half excitement, pretending to care.

He kept muttering to himself, “I could have been at this game!” But he wasn’t; he was home with his wife. And with that, Buehrle threw his final pitch, inducing a grounder to the third baseman and completing his no-hitter. Weave began clapping and a tear rolled down his cheek. Julie, like any loving wife, smiled, mocked his tear and went back to talking about strollers.

Good Grief.

Sacrifices come in all shapes and forms. Whether it’s missing history to care for your pregnant wife or cutting back the number of nights you play softball, good dads will always give up anything for their children (and even children-to-be). Weave’s story helped give me perspective and taught me a lesson that I’ll never forget:

Kids will always be a pain in the butt.