Fred Bowen's "The Score" column,
May 30, 2003, Washington Post

Wrong as Rain

My daughter Kerry's softball schedule is posted on our refrigerator, underneath a magnet. Even though the season started more than a month ago, there is only one lonely score penciled in beside the list of games.

Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

Her season is disappearing beneath the mist, showers and thunderstorms this spring. I coach Kerry's team, and we have had only two practices all season. And even those cold, damp sessions ended with the bats, balls and girls covered with mud.

The team has played so little softball that I doubt that most of my girls could even find their mitts. Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

It's not just my daughter's season. Lots of area baseball, softball and spring soccer seasons are going down the drain with all this water.

My nephew, Zach, loves baseball as much as any 11-year-old can. He plays for the Athletics in the Woodbridge Little League. But the Athletics have played only half their games this season. And that doesn't even count the special tournament that got washed out one weekend.

Believe me, Zach is getting tired of knocking baseballs into the net his dad set up in the garage. Baseball is an outdoor game, and Zach wants to play ball. Outdoors.

Remember last spring? The Washington area was suffering from a drought. It was so dry that I told my softball players not to kick the infield dirt when they ran out to their positions. I was afraid they would start a dust storm. Now I think the kids would start a mudslide.

Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

Of course, the pros keep playing. The grounds crews at Camden Yards and RFK work around the clock to get the fields ready for the Orioles, Freedom and United. The fields drain like magic and the games go on. Rain or shine.

Kids aren't so lucky. My team's practice field is not exactly Camden Yards. The rainwater seeps into the all-dirt infield and turns our softball diamond into a gooey square of mud that makes it feel like you are playing in chocolate pudding. The pools of water in the batter's box are deep enough to float a small boat. And the grass has grown so high in the outfield that softballs and even soccer balls disappear in the high, wet stuff.

Soccer fields are even worse. The water puddles up in the low spots. The ball starts floating in the puddles like a beach ball. And the kids happily kick and splash away like they were playing in the surf at Ocean City or Virginia Beach.

Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.

Of course, not everyone is undone by all the rain. Just the other day I saw a neighbor at the bus stop. She was full of talk about tournaments with come-from-behind wins and heartbreaking losses. Last-second shots and head-turning plays.

Her girls play basketball. Indoors.

Rain, rain, go away. Go away so the kids can play.