I was never a jock, but most sports have been able to thrill me vicariously…baseball especially, and the Cardinals in particular. My eight-year-old grandson, Bobby, loves baseball…the Cardinals especially, and Yadier Molina in particular. So when our daughter happened to come across the announcement in the Washington Post encouraging kids to apply for a position at the Washington Nationals’ “Kids Run the Show” day, she thought it would be an ideal writing assignment for Bobby, whom she homeschools.

The method she uses to educate Bobby and his sister is identical to how she herself was homeschooled; that is, she unschools, which is to say that she uses the kids’ natural interests and life experiences to direct their learning. Unschooling is a real-world implementation of the “open classroom” philosophy promoted in the late 1960s and early 1970s and, while canned courses are occasionally used, the facilitator (usually the parent) follows the lead of the child and incorporates reading, writing, and arithmetic. And history, and science, and philosophy, and social studies, and the fine arts, and religion, and any other “subject” imaginable. The possibilities are limitless, and the result is a thoroughly explored interest and a very “educated” and well-rounded human being. But, back to baseball.

Every applicant who wanted to be a kid who “ran the show” had to write his reasons why he or she should be chosen; Bobby wrote about how much he loved baseball and how he hoped he’d become a major leaguer someday. He is genuine about his passion. He plays shortstop for his little league team, also named the Nationals, and wears the same number as his hero, #4. His baseball card collection, organized in clear plastic sheets, numbers nearly three hundred cards, and he has watched the Ken Burns’ documentary, “Baseball,” in its entirety, and many baseball-themed movies, as well. If there was an scale to determine degree of obsession, his would be off the chart.

I don’t know how many kids applied, but considering how big the Washington, DC-area is, it was probably a lot. So when my daughter got the phone call last week from someone at the Nationals’ front office letting her know that Bobby had been selected, she was stunned. But not nearly as much as Bobby was when she told him.

The seven hundred miles that separate my grandchildren and me is bridged by texting and Facetime, both of which happen often, thank goodness. I felt like I was right there at Nationals Park this past Sunday. Multiple texts flew between my daughter and me, hers attached to photos with commentary like, “OMG….he’s out there shooting the shit with the umps!!!”

Yep, Bobby was at home plate with all four umps and José Lobaton, the Nationals’ catcher, the player whom he had been assigned to shadow. Photo after photo not only captured the event, but they managed to capture the sheer joy that overflowed from my grandson. Sitting at home, so far away, I was able to easily imagine how excited Bobby must have been…and then it dawned on me. Tune in to the game!!!

Ours is a “zero tv household,” with television programming streamed via computer instead of cable or satellite, and mlb.com is one of the best investments we’ve made. I tuned in to the Washington-Philadelphia game, due to start any minute. I’ve watched enough games to know that even though there is a set start time, it’s unpredictable when the static screen goes live. Nevertheless, I sat poised in front of the television patiently, my phone’s camera set to video, ready to capture the moment, should the moment indeed present itself.

And then, without warning, the screen came to life, camera zeroing in on the home plate’s goings on. And there was my grandson, standing alongside the umpiring crew as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The video I took lasted only a mere thirteen seconds, but it secured the moment I witnessed my grandson on the field at a nationally televised baseball game. I was so proud and so happy for Bobby. I knew he’d think that this was the best day of his life and would remember it always.

Like so many young boys, Bobby dreams of playing baseball professionally, and who knows, maybe someday he will. Opportunities such as this and other stepping stones will present themselves and he’ll be supported and encouraged by the people who care about him all the way. Meanwhile, though, he’s already a star in my book.