I am assuming the boys were brothers. They had just moved in a few months ago. One was much smaller than the other. I doubt that he was 10 years old. The other boy was much larger, wore glasses and was probably three or four years older. The smaller boy had a constant smile on his face, while his big brother was more serious.
This wasn’t the first time I noticed the two youngsters playing, but it was the first time I took the time to actually watch them play. What I saw when I watched is what made me smile.
First of all, the smaller brother was playing quarterback. I thought this was unusual. The older ones always get to throw the football and make the younger ones run all over the place trying to catch their passes. That’s how it was when I was a kid. My Dad and uncles always were throwing the football, making me, my brother and our cousins run up and down the field.
That wasn’t the case this morning.
No sir. The little guy was the quarterback and his brother was the wide receiver. They must have watched plenty of football with their dad because they knew what they were doing. The big guy would get into a two-point stance while his brother would call signals. He would then “take the snap”, drop back a couple of steps and loft a tight spiral into the outstretched hands of his bespectacled brother.
These boys were such a joy to watch. I continued to pray, looking up every now and then to watch the action. Suddenly they both ran into their house. I’m not sure if one of their parents had called them, but they were gone. Oh well…
Then, just as suddenly, they reappeared. But they didn’t have their football with them. No, this time they both were wearing baseball gloves. Evidently, they were switching sports. Again I was smiling.
You know how good those two brothers were in football? Well, they were that bad in baseball. Honest. When the little one threw the ball to his brother, you never knew where it was going to go. And on the rare occasion that the toss was anywhere near it’s target, it would clank off of his brother’s glove and roll away.
It wasn’t much better on the return throw. The big brother’s aim was slightly better, but it didn’t matter much. The little fella had no clue what to do with the glove stuck on his left hand. When the ball approached him he would stab at it awkwardly, knocking it to the ground. But he kept smiling. And so did I.
The last time I glanced out the window, the younger brother was squatting down like a catcher and flashing signals to his big brother. I believe he was signaling for a fastball, but it made no difference. The older brother had pulled his mobile device out of his pocket and was adjusting his earbud. I’m not sure if it was an iPod or Smartphone. That wasn’t important, I had been transported from 1967 to 2013 in the blink of an eye and the magic was over.
Let’s see, tomorrow is Tuesday, so it is the Sorrowful Mysteries. Hopefully those two brothers will be outside playing again. That way I won’t be too “sorrowful” when I am praying. Those guys do make me smile.
Until next time…from the booth.
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