Verse 1 She's up before the sunrise, coffee in her hand, Loading up the SUV with somebody else's plans. Uniforms are folded, helmets by the door, Somehow she remembers everything... and then a little more. Seeds in the cupholder, snacks packed in a bag, Band-Aids, sunscreen, bubble gum, an extra pair of pants. GPS is talking, another town to find, She's got a hundred things to do, but she's always right on time. Pre-Chorus She don't need a trophy, She don't need her name in lights... Just give her a folding chair On a Friday night. Chorus She's a baseball mama, living one game at a time. Running on prayers, caffeine, and double-header sunshine. She's the loudest voice in the grandstands, The strongest heart you'll ever know. She'll cheer every strikeout, celebrate every home run, Love you after every loss just the same as when you've won. She's the team behind the team, Even if nobody sees... That's just what it means To be a baseball mama. Verse 2 She's washing dirt-stained jerseys at eleven every night, Finding missing batting gloves before the morning light. She knows every batting average, every teammate's name, Every superstition that comes before the game. She keeps the scorebook, signs the forms, Pays the fees somehow. Raises money, plans the dinners, Still asks, "How was school?" somehow. When the game gets tough and tears begin to fall, She's already waiting with a hug that says it all. Bridge She'll stand through rain delays, Freeze in April winds. Bake beneath July sunshine Just to watch them play again. One day those little cleats Won't be by the front door... She'd give anything To hear them say, "One more." Final Chorus She's a baseball mama, Never asking for applause. Trading sleep for memories, Living for the cause. She's the first one there each morning, She's the last one leaving too. Teaching more than baseball, Teaching how to follow through. One day they'll finally understand Everything she gave... The miles, the meals, the sacrifices, Every prayer she prayed. Because the players wear the jerseys... But the moms wear the weight. And every kid who ever chased a dream Had a baseball mama making sure they made it to the plate. Outro So here's to the moms in the bleachers, With sunscreen, scorebooks, and grace. The real MVPs of the ballpark... Who'd do it all again tomorrow... For one more game.
