I took my son, J., to a batting cage nearby today. He loved it, and I had a good time, too. I stuck him in the slowest softball cage and he actually made pretty decent contact on at several of his swings. It was, without a doubt, the high point of my weekend.

The best thing about going to a batting cage with your almost six-year-old is that he thinks you're the best thing since Willie Mays regardless of what your actual skill level is. Jeremy cheered me on with every solid hit, and even the not so solid ones got him excited. It was a great ego boost for me, too.

J. started playing soccer this year. I enjoy watching him play, but I feel kind of helpless in helping him improve his game. My knowledge of soccer pretty much begins and ends with "don't use your hands". At the batting cage, however, I saw a dozen things instantly about his stance, swing, etc. I was calling out a few of them to him while he hit until I decided that I was just confusing him. My point is that I'll be able to take a more active hand with him when tee-ball starts next spring. My problem is going to be treading that thin line between being helpful and being the overbearing dad. It's difficult because I want him to succeed, but I also don't want to put so much pressure on him to do well that the game becomes a chore for him.

I said at a week ago that the Red Sox needed to win every series the rest of the way to ensure themselves a playoff berth (see my 9/15 blog) and they've managed to win the first two. The magic number over Seattle is now at 5 with seven games left to play. So, if they win the remaining two series they're in, even if Seattle wins every game the rest of the season.