How do we deal with the moment of truth when it arrives?  Do we know it’s coming? Are we ready to answer that expected or unexpected knock on the door when it does? ¶ It’s really early morning here along the river and moments ago I heard our daughter’s alarm clock sing out.  Her moment of truth, on this Sunday morning was pre-planned; however, she has answered the bell and his preparing herself for another day with her apron greeting customers with that terrific smile before taking their deli order.  ¶ The ladies of this house are well known for wanting nothing more than to stay between the sheets on these days we refer to as the “weekend” and sadly there’s been very little extra sack time for our youngest whose modified work schedule coexists with the onset of the new school year.  At the ripe old age of 17 she is certainly experiencing the price to pay to have a few dollars of her own. ¶ This may appear a little over-the-top as it relates to this proverb though it does provide a suitable transition into a brief discussion on the pride factor many of us here in the North Bay are experiencing for the Petaluma National Little League Team who competed yesterday in the U.S. Championship Game of the Little League World Series.  These kids have been in central Pennsylvania for the past two weeks taking on all comers with the grit, tenacity and support that truly filled our souls with each game played.  This team faced their own moment of truth a number of times throughout this competition and each time gave us all another chance to tune in, turn on and provide them our support. ¶ Trailing by ten runs in the bottom of the sixth inning during yesterday’s finale was proof enough, for me anyway, that win or lose; this is the team we’ll be talking about for many, many years to come. ¶ As each player rubbed “Ted’s Head” for a little extra magic, they headed onto the field and battled back, tying the game at 15 runs apiece and the world heard the chant from the stands: “PET-A-LUMA” (clap clap clap!!). ¶ A week from today there’ll be a parade honoring these fine young ball players, their coaching staff, the parents, siblings and everyone else who faced their own collective moments of truth when the third out was registered.  Such is the life of competition. ¶ Well done gentlemen!



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