Admittedly I’m not much of a sports fan. I only follow it by listening to my husband’s praise of the Chicago Blackhawks or heartbreak over the Bears. I don’t mind attending games, even if it’s only to enjoy the greasy food, adult beverages and the energy from the crowd.

But that’s slowly changing. My nearly 6-year-old, Logan, is a huge sports fan. He loves football, soccer, hockey, baseball, basketball and anything else with a ball. This is his second year in t-ball and this year, instead of hitting it off the tee, the coach pitches to him a few times and if he can’t hit it, he gets to take a swing at the ball on the tee.

It’s been a good season so far. I don’t know whether we’ve won games because it doesn’t seem like we’re keeping score, but the kids are having a blast. Our coach is the dad of Logan’s best friend, and he’s a great coach. Very passionate, encouraging and patient with the kids.

I love going to the Saturday morning games. Watching Logan fidget nervously in the backseat as the butterflies kick in on the way to the game, seeing him calm those butterflies as he walks up to bat and the stark determination to: “Keep His Eye On The Ball.” I love it.

And it’s not just my kid I love to watch. I love watching the others on the field too because many of them go to his school, so I’ve gotten to know them throughout the year. The same goes for their parents, it’s a good time to catch up with the moms and dads and meet the grandparents.

There’s a strong sense of community at these Saturday morning games and that’s what I enjoy the most. We are a village, raising our kids together.

For example, the day before we left for Portland we made a last minute decision to eek out one more T-ball game. Earlier I had to save his uniform from the movers packing us, but his glove wasn’t as lucky. Thankfully one mom brought an extra glove for Logan.

When we got there, he kept trying on that glove and trying on that glove and it didn’t fit. Tears filled his eyes, he didn’t want to play without a glove. The other mom and I tried to convince him that he didn’t need a glove because hitting the ball is the most fun part, but we failed miserably.

Then his coach came over. He told Logan he had a glove for him and if it didn’t fit, it didn’t matter, but that his team needed him out on the field. Coach started to walk toward the field, expecting Logan to follow, but my guy’s feet were firmly planted.

Coach turned back around, put a hand on Logan’s shoulder and got eye-to-eye with my boy.

“Look at me. You’ll be OK, OK? I need you out on this field. Look me in the eye. … You’ll be OK. C’mon and let’s go warm up.”

And with that the two went out on the field and tears filled my eyes. Logan is a hard kid to reach and to see someone who isn’t his parent get through to him when he’s emotional was awesome. I’ve never seen that before. Then I started thinking about how we’re leaving this wonderfully cozy little community and I had to wipe away my tears. (I’m actually welling up now as I write this.)

But I know in Portland we’ll establish our new village. And though I’m not much of a sports fan, one of my first entryways is going to be through sports because they do build a sense of community, whether it’s Little League or the National League.