My 14-year-old daughter, Lily, surprises me with something new every day. Yes, I know all parents say that, and when they do, it usually comes with them broadcasthing something wonderful/brilliant/heart-warming that their offspring has done. And which also shows their child is just so special and unlike everyone else.

In my case, the surprises are more of the head-scratching type. Like how Lily requires no time at all to get her stuff together when one of her friends invites her to a sleepover, but she’s rather let five loads of laundry turn into a Cascade Mountain range of clothes upon her bed than actually put any of her stuff away. She’ll harrass me to the point of craziness when she “needs” a ride somewhere, but then will also drive me to the point of craziness when we are 15 minutes late for school because she didn’t have enough time to get ready in the morning. I guess two hours to wake up, get a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and get dressed just isn’t enough time for the American 8th grader to get their act together on a school day.

So, Lily’s surprises are unique. Once in a while, she surprises me in a way that is truly remarkable. That goes beyond the standard things that 13-year-olds do, and which leave you scratching your head and wondering if the kid has any common sense at all. And one of these unique surprises came in the form of my daughter actually asking to play catch with me.

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One of the few hard and fast rules I insisted upon for our kids was that the girls had to play a sport. It didn’t matter what sport, just that they had to play something. And with that, our older daughter, who is now 15, took up soccer, and Lily went with softball. It hasn’t been perfect. There have been times when she has said she didn’t want to play, then only did so when she knew some of her friends were playing. But, her hitting has gotten better every year, and her teams have won their age-division titles twice. And in sports, winning solves a lot of issues. 

This summer, and much to our surprise, Lily told us she wanted to join the local travel ball team. Now, I am a huge sports fan, and I was glad that Lily wanted to test her skills by stepping up to travel ball. However, I had also heard horror stories about travel ball teams making multi-day trips to tournaments in other states, and parents having to shell out thousands of dollars during the season for gas, hotels and team-related expenses. Fortunately, we got lucky, as our team isn’t doing any overnight stays. And, so far, aside from the $150 sign-up fee (which covers nearly all of the kid’s uniform, aside from two pairs of pants) we haven’t been hit with any surprise costs…Aside from when I had to make a mad dash to a local grocery store to pick up three loaves of bread for post-game team sandwiches after a recent tournament.

We are fortunate in that Lily’s travel ball team includes two of her best friends, as well as several other girls she has played with in the past. These connections have helped keep her interested in softball, being on time for practices, and improving her game. One thing that hasn’t changed, for the most part, is her showing much interest for the game outside of practices and on game days. She never actively asks to go to any of the Cal-Berkeley games near us, nor does she ever inquire about going to the local batting cages to work on her swing. And, when I have asked her to play catch, her answers typically fall between, “Nah, I’m good” and “I’m talking to (Insert any one of her friends here).”

And yet…

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One day this summer, while we were visiting my mom near Seattle, Lily surprised me when she actually asked me to play catch with her. To say this shocked me would be an understatement of an understatement. She had brought her glove and a softball along on the trip. The weather was nice. My mom has a large yard. It was a perfect time to play a simple, old-school game of catch.

Except for one thing. I didn’t have a glove.

Now, I wasn’t expecting Lily to fire some 98-mph heat my way. But, she has gotten stronger, and more accurate with her throwing this year—I’m not kidding when I saw she throws better than I do. Sometimes, my tosses epitomize the definition of the the old “You throw like a girl” aspersion that was common when I was a kid—I had to find a way to play catch with Lily without my hands getting completely pummeled and pock-marked by her throws.

I wasn’t sure what I would do. Then, as I went into my mom’s kitchen, I saw my answer:

Oven mitts.

And these weren’t just any old-school style oven mitts that my mom had been using for the last 40 years and. This was a pair that looked like they were made for an NFL cornerback, or for use in a mosh pit at a European heavy metal festival. The “treads” on the palms included flames, eyeballs and the word “IMPHSE”, which, for all I know, is the name of a heavy metal band form Helsinki. In any case, this was what I had to work with, so I put on the gloves and commenced to a game of catch.

With every “smack” of the ball into my hands, I gained a new appreciation for why modern softball and baseball gloves cost so much these days. I was absolutely able to catch Lily’s throws. But, for me, her middle-school stuff was like one of Logan Gilbert’s fastballs drilling into Cal Raleigh’s mitt behind the plate at T-Mobile Park. I now know what it was like to play in the days of 19th-century baseball legends such as Old Hoss Radbourn, Pud Galvin and Sleeveless Jack Soapmaker. (I may have made up one of those guys).

We threw about 50 balls each, and then Lily decided we were done. After all, it had probably been a whopping 30 minutes since she had last been on her phone to FaceTime with one of her friends. And, to be honest, my hands were feeling it after a half-hour of catching Lily’s best stuff. 

I can’t say Lily and I have played catch since. That’s OK. As much as I would like to toss the ball around with her, I also don’t want to force the situation. Besides, she’s still getting her reps in during practice twice a week. Her glove is getting used as it should, as are my oven mitts, which I just put on to take a baking sheet of cookies out of the oven.