Shearing The Sheep

This kid on the All Star team keeps trying to hug me. When he's not dancing in right field during practices, singing, "I'm a maniac, maniac on the floor."

That's going to look nice on front page of the paper; "Little League coach caught in embrace with player." Every time he gets near me I run away, to his delight and that of the other players and his parents, including his mother, who I've threatened with the possibility of a restraining order against her son.

Before Sunday's game he told his teammates he'd shave his head if we won.

We won.

At last night's practice one of the dads brought scissors and clippers.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" I asked the boy's mother.

She responded by getting out her camera.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Coach P. asked the boy.

"As long as Coach Snag does it," he answered.

So I did. I've never cut hair before. I tried the clippers on his long blond hair without much success, switched to scissors and hacked away for awhile, then returned to the clippers. All the while his teammates hooted and hollered. Finally I stepped away to eye my creation.

"He looks like a baby bird," said my oldest, who'd stopped by to watch practice.

"He looks like Chucky," said Coach P.

"I look hot," said the boy.

"I'm impressed," I said, extending my hand. "You're a man of your word."

The boy slapped my hand away. "Brothers don't shake hands," he said. "Brothers gotta hug."

I ran.