I'm loving another summer watching my daughter play ball. My only goal is to get through it and remember the game dates and what day I bring the snacks. And of course, I want them to be safe and have fun. I'm happy with the minimum, y'know?

My daughter's goals are to make a play during the game and not strike out. She is also very concerned about the color of her socks, and getting the jersey tucked into her shorts just right so the logo shows correctly.

We have basic goals. It isn't the world series, after all.

Grandpa, on the other hand, is stressing out. I have to listen to his commentary throughout each game. "The ball throwing machine's a piece of junk," he declares when the ball pitches wildly. He sighs in despair every time they miss a play or there's a strikeout.

Jeez Louise, these are only little girls. Why is it so important? There's a reason they don't keep a tally, but every game I'm aware of the 'score' by the parents sitting near me, who feel the need to add it up every time a girl makes it home.

During the game yesterday, they lost. They were out-matched. The other team had older girls. Luck of the draw I would think, if not coached by grandpa. He thinks that the coaches have handpicked their teams in some smoky back room. Some have plotted to get the older, more experienced girls in order to dominate throughout the softball season.

"A ponytail league conspiracy?" I ask. The humor is lost on him, but my mother laughs. I'll never understand why the ball games are so important to some folks. It's just a game. At least I thought it was when we signed up.