The Little League Coach

I’m a Girl

I’m a girl. I’ve never worn a cup. I’ve never bought a cup. Before my son became a little leaguer, thoughts of athletic cups had never entered my brain. I never thought about where to buy a cup, or how to buy the right size cup. I didn’t even know which side was right-side-up—but that’s a story for another time.

A Trip to Wal-Greens

A few years ago, I found myself in Walgreen’s, wandering in the “reproductive health ” aisle, looking for these mysterious Protectors of Maleness. I found athletic supporters right across from condoms , and I smiled gamely at the handsome twenty-something who was facing the difficult decisions of ribbed versus smooth and latex versus lambskin.

“Is an athletic supporter the same thing as a cup?” I wondered to myself. I picked up a performance cotton supporter strap—because, as you know, it’s all about performance!—and, filled with trepidation, I headed up to the pharmacy counter.

The Unknowing Geek

Of course, the pharmacy assistant was a pimply-faced teenaged boy whose only association with a baseball field was when he walked across one on the way to his chess club meeting.

“Um, hi,” I said, all friendly and nonchalant. “I’m trying to buy one of those “cup” things for my son, and I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

He stared at me blankly. I forged ahead.

“Um, so I have this supporter thing, and I’m just not sure if it’s really what I’m looking for,” I said. “Is this what they mean when they say my son needs to wear a cup?”

The pimply pharmacy dude had spent way more time in front of a computer than on a baseball field; and his empathy skills had been stunted by a lack of human contact. Obviously, he had been raised by a pack of geeks in the wild. He let me continue humiliating myself, encouraging me to go on with the slightest raising of an eyebrow.

“I think there’s supposed to be something, um, hard,” I choked a little, and continued, “that goes into the supporter thing. Do you have any of those?”

There was a long pause while he considered my question and let the flush reach all the way from my neckline to my hairline.

“I don’t really know,” he said. “Obviously, I’ve never played a team sport in my life, “he didn’t add, but then he said helpfully, “Whatever we have is on the shelf.”

Uh, huh. Thanks, dude.

Tune in to the next Little League Mom guest post: Cup Stories, Continued.

For more from this author, check out The Green Room (http://greenroomthoughts.blogspot.com/) for posts on The Golden Compass, pet peeves, Iraq, jellybeans, sociopaths, and much more!