A Perfect Season - sample

8/8/2019 A Perfect Season - sample

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outfield with my back to the fence so, in case I missed one, I wouldn’t

have far to run. It was cold, the grass was wet, and a gentle breeze

quickly numbed exposed skin. On about the fourth pitch, Nick uncorked

a fastball that, simply, I couldn’t handle. The pitching distancewas 50 feet,

but the ball traveled about 47.5. I couldn’t decide which way to turn my

glove. Flip and scoop or turn and reach? Now I know what I should

have done, but in that small fraction of a second I had to decide, I got

caught halfway.

Although my “studly,” college athlete mind and ego believed I had

the play made, my 42-year-old body knew otherwise. Give it some credit.

Admittedly I’ve lost speed, but I’ve learned to compensate with anticipa-tion. Not enough though. It’s too depressing to calculate accurately,

but the net loss in ability is I’m sure more than 50 percent. As the ball

approached the ground, my legs quickly swung to my right, revealing to

the world that I must not be wearing a cup. My head jerked wildly up and

to the left,ensuring I wouldneversee the ball as it struck me. My glove was

pocket facing down, about four inches above the ball, as it skipped off the

damp grass.

I felt a quick, sharp sting as the Rawlings leather impacted my ankle.

A direct hit on a damp 35-degree evening. Even though I had on sweat

pants the laces left two small purplish-red bruise marks. The pain was

severe but it paled to the agony my inner 18-year-old athlete endured

watching a 42-year-old botch this catch. Oh, the shame.However, I did hop up fast, bouncing rapidly on my one good leg,

vigorously shaking the damaged one in the air. At that moment I noticed

a jogging trail just behind the outfield fence. A fit, athletic-looking run-

ner cruised by — the only one I’d seen in 45 minutes on this cold night.

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A Perfect Season



106

Part I I — Spring Training

He witnessed the whole thing, and, without breaking stride, said,

“Nice form, coach,” and vanished into the night.

I won’t be applying for the bullpen catcher job anytime soon.



A p r i l 2 0

The Gra nd Sla m

A lan was pitching in the tournament last weekend and worked

himself into a jam in the second inning. He’d given up three runs

and then loaded the bases with a hit and two walks. The other team’sbest hitter stepped up and hit Alan’s first pitch over the left-centerfield

fence for a grand slam homerun. That made it 7 - 0.

I was impressed by Alan’s ability to bounce back from that gopherball. He had a smile on his face; he knew he’d been beaten. I appreciated

that he was both humble and still in a good emotional place. I kept him

in the game because he still seemed to have a good attitude. His pitch

count was low and I wanted to see how he would Respond . He struck out

the next kid, but the catcher dropped the third strike and the batter

ran to first. The catcher made an awful throw, way over the first base-man’s head and into right field. The batter ended up on second base.

Alan became distraught and the good attitude quickly evaporated

into frustration.So I marched out to the mound, took the ball and put him at third

base. As Steve took his warm up pitches, I went over and talked to Alan.

He was still fuming. “It’s no fun when people can’t catch or throw theball,” he spewed. “We’re losing and I get a strikeout and we can’t even

get an out.”

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It was uncharacteristic of Alan to talk badly of his teammates. He

usually was able to overlook miscues. And, I thought his anger was a bit

misplaced . . . the dropped ball didn’t cause the first seven runs. I’ve wanted

Alan, and all the kids, to take more personal accountability for their actions

on and off the field. Gently, I tried to put things in perspective.

“Alan, buddy, you know your fielders might all be saying the same

thing after youwalk two batters and then give up a home run,” I explained

in a soft and supportive voice. “They don’t like losing if they don’t even

get a chance to touch the ball. You have to take responsibility for what

you can do and not blame your teammates.”

Mistake.The moment was much too fragile. Alan burst into tears. Nice move,

coach. Great. Way to go, dad. Go ahead, kick your 12-year-old when he’s

down.

I put my arm around him and said,“Hey come on now. You’ve got to

shake this off. Games like this are going to happen. You’re going to give

up homeruns like that. All of us do. You have to learn how to accept it,

learn from it, and move on.”

He looked at me like I clearly didn’t understand his despair. At 12 he’s

still under the notion that I walked on water as a player. I wanted to

comfort him,butalso reinforce the fact that I,too, had been in those lonely

shoes, helplessly watching your pitch sail effortlessly over the fence.

Steve still had a few warm up pitches left so I quickly recounted my experience pitching in an American Legion state playoffs game after

graduatingfrom high school. I started the quarterfinal game and managed

to load the bases and give up a grand slam homerun. I explained to Alan

thatnot onlydid it travelover 400 feet, I had the additionalembarrassment

of the game being broadcast on radio. I hoped it would comfort him to

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Part I I I — Apri l



know everybody in the stadium and the entire radio listening audience

knew I just given up a colossal grand slam homerun. This seemed to

calm Alan a bit, and so I trotted back to the dugout.

Then, yesterday, I heard Alan and my dad laughing as they were

coming upstairs. I poked my head out of my office just in time to hear

my dad say, “Yeah, not only did I see it leave the park, but I also listened

to the radio announcer describe it.” And they broke into laughter again.

I gave my dad a crusty look and retreated back to my office. At least

Alan has recovered.

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A Perfect Season



J u n e 9

Dillon on Cloud Nine

T onight was a great moment in youth sports. Nobody will see it on

ESPN or read about it in Sports Illustrated . It was a smaller, but

still quite meaningful moment that will last at least three lifetimes —

Dillon’s, his dad’s, and mine. Tonight, we fully ignited Dillon’s passion

for the game and he officially became a baseball junkie. I’ll reflect back

on this with a warm smile when I’m old and gray in the nursing home(assuming I have memories at that point . . . I may just have a warm

smile and pudding on my face . . .).

Dillon is on cloud nine after a fantastic game, helping us on the

mound and at the plate get a dramatic win against our cross-town

rivals. I brought him in to relieve Tyler who had worked himself into a

bases-loaded no-out jam. It was the bottom of the third and we wereclinging to a 3 - 2 lead. This was pressure! Dillon struck out the first

two batters he faced, walked in a run, and then got a pop up to end the

inning. He gave up only one run in what could have been a disaster of

an inning for us.

Dillon sprinted off the field with an enormous smile on his face.

He knew he had done a great thing, not only as an individual performer,but he’d made an important contribution to his team. He received pats

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on the back and high fives from his teammates as he entered the dugout.

Later, in the sixth inning he got a hit and scored an important insurance

run. Then in the bottom of the inning, he took a relay throw from

the outfield and fired it to third base to double up a runner trying to

advance. This dramatic, heads-up play ended the game, but it was his

solid pitching and timely hitting that gave us the win tonight. After

the game his body language told the story: head high, chest out and

confident stride.

Dillon has had a season of smiles so far. It’s been rewarding to see

him regain and grow his passion for baseball. He’s a kid with a strong

throwing arm and talent for the game, but hehas a wide range of interests.

He could have given up on the game if he had another frustrating season

and negative experience with coaches. Until tonight, that is. We — the

larger baseball community — now have him for life. After tonight, base-

ball will never again just be an activity. It will be a passion. It will be

played with gusto and the game will be respected for what it is and

what it has to offer. He now sees it as a way to learn about himself as

a competitor, how to handle success and failure, and how to work hard

and enjoy a sense of accomplishment. That’s not possible with a mere

activity — only a passion can do that.

For most kids, the passion is already there . . . we need to nurture it,

feed it and give it room to grow. Our job is to show them the possibilities

of what the gamehas to offer, and then let the passion flourish. This is our

opportunity and our legacy as coaches. Dillon is a mark in my personal

win column.

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A Perfect Season

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A Perfect Season - sample