My Father was:
A mentor to three boys.
A loyal husband.
A compassionate man.
A caring soul.
An honest heart.
Smart and wise.
A fair mind.
My Father knew who he was.
He enjoyed country music.
He worked with his hands.
He took naps.
He had a strong faith.
He voiced a big laugh.
He loved life.
And yet it was taken from him far too young.
…….
I am half the man he was.
Baseball is a game of failure.
70% of the time the games best players fail when trying to hit the ball. Players record errors on the field. Make bad pitches and throws. What’s important to understand is that every next at-bat, pitch or time on defense is an opportunity to make a play that’s positive. The trick is for players to not look back, to have a short memory when it comes to failure. For they’ll need the focus in the present to make the play when they get the next opportunity. If they’re always in the past, then failure lurks with a side helping of doubt. And since players can’t change the past, the only thing they can control is how they deal with the future.
This premise is kinda like a shark. Sharks constantly swim, and if they stop, they die. These predators lack the ability to extract oxygen from the water unless it’s forced through their side gills from their constant state of motion. The point is they never look back. Sharks are always looking forward. A timely piece of advice I gave a 10-year old on the mound after he gave up a game tying single to a batter. “Be like a shark, don’t look back. Focus on the next batter, and just throw strikes. If they hit them, they hit them. Count on your teammates to play good defense behind you.” He composed himself, got the last out and the game continued. A game we eventually won.
(I have since nicknamed him “Shark” for the rest of the season)
One of my dear friends, who I can’t thank enough, allowed me to realize the advice of the shark is not for baseball alone. It’s a good parable to carry around to reference when dealing with some everyday and not-so-everyday situations. Sometimes after you fail, it’s best to recognize it, learn from it, keep moving forward and not look back. If not, you risk suffocation under the weight of your own lack of mental strength.
The last week for me was very taxing. Long hours, new business stress, long flights, oppressively hot temperatures, and in a constant state of “on” as a new business owner while in Phoenix at the ADMERICA! conference sponsorded by the National AAF. If not the time with close friends, I think I’d be in a looney bin.
I left Phoenix early Sunday morning with a heavy heart, and mental fatigue. On my first flight, the plane experienced major turbulence. The “Drop 50 feet in 1 second, amusement ride, knock you out of your seat” type turbulence that elicits July, 4th crowd-like reactions. While people were ooing and aahing, I was secretly hoping for the plane to crash. #truestory.
However, we landed safely in Atlanta and during the 3-hour layover, I overheard a paged solicitation over the loud speaker for a multi-faith service in the chapel at 2pm. Now, this is something I would normally not hear, nor ever considering going to, but i think someone was speaking to me. And no, it wasn’t the guy serving me my change at Arby’s. If there truly is a God, then he knows my faith has wavered.
2pm rolled around and I strolled into an room with a dozen or so empty chairs with one exception, one was taken by the minister. His name was Will (I thought, seriously your name is Will?). With my already heavy heart I walked up to the front table where the Bible was located. It was open to Psalms and the third one I read struck me hard. I took a photo of it and it’s above.
Psalm 51
Have mercy upon me, O God
According to your lovingkindness;
According to the multitude of Your tender mercies,
Blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
While, right now, I do not feel worthy of forgiveness, I do very much seek it. Minister Will came up from behind me and asked me my name, where I was from, where I came from and where my final destination was. He asked if I had heard the paged soliciation and that I was indeed here for the service (he seemed quite shocked I was there). I told him yes, but that my flight was to board in about 15 minutes. He said, “Perfect, I know just the sermon I will give you today.” Another woman strolled in, her name was Sarah. She was on her way to Colorado and she too was going to listen. And together we sat. A personal audience for Minister Will and his words.
In his readings and with his southern drawl, he spoke of the miracles performed by Elijah and Jesus when it came to healing the sick or bringing people back to life. In his sermon he talked of fairness. What is fair in the world? Why are there infants that die months after birth, and wives widowed with small kids still to raise? And why tragedy strikes sleepy towns in Oklahoma filled with innocent people? He told a story of a funeral he ministered for a teenager and then spoke of the words he tried to use to comfort the grieving family and friends left to wonder why. He spoke of how God answers prayers, and that answers rarely come how we expect. “The lessons of our lives,” he said, “unfold for us in ways that only God himself knows, but know that he loves us, and when we trust in him he will make his answers known and steer us on the right path.”
It was tough to hear, but most definitely what I needed. If only for 15 minutes. After he was done we all left the room and went our separate ways. Each touched by this moment. Solidified by God, and eager to go home to be the company of family.
Aaron had to write-up a theme for a poem at school titled, A Song of Greatness it’s a Chippewa Traditional Poem by Mary Austin.
This is his write-up:
The theme of the poem, “A Song of Greatness” is that everyone can be a hero. In the first stanza, it says, “When I hear old men telling of heroes, telling great deeds of ancient days, when I hear them telling, then I think within me I too am one of these” That means the kid thinks it of himself of a hero. I know that because It’s talking about a boy looking up to grownups, and thinking he can make a difference as well. Also it says, “I too when my time comes shall mightily.” That means when he gets older he will make a difference. Now you know the main theme of the Poem, “A Song of Greatness.”
I love good music, and have realized that I should give no more of my precious time to be in the company of bad music. There’s only so many hours of listening time in the day. Good music helps to make my day go by with joy, energy, passion, memories and love. For me, it’s a simple choice. With all the music in the world, I choose to only listen to the extraoridinary ones. Ones that inspire and lift me up and get me out of a funk. I love that I’m always introduced to new music in unlikely places, and relish the opportunity to learn and be comforted from new music every day.
But I’m cautious… There will always be bad music lurking around every corner hoping to rent space in my brain.
I know you’ll agree with me.
…….
Now go back to the start of this post, and replace the word “music” for “people” and reread.
Lean on me,
when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend
I’ll help you carry on…
For,
it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need
Somebody to lean on…
I have heard this Bill Withers song, Lean on Me, hundreds of times in my life… possibly thousands. And not until tonight did these words really sink in thanks to the fine boys and girls at Willink Middle School at Rebekah’s chorus concert.
At the risk of ridicule I will say I actually thought to myself “Oh, really? Those are the lyrics?”
The lyrics are simple and authentic. It’s an amazing song about what it means to be a loyal friend. One that looks out for one another. We all need them, know who they are in our own lives. We appreciate their support when we need it most, and we’re ready to answer the call to return the favor.
I know, call me Captain Obvious.
Coaching baseball is my highlight of the week. With AJ. Being outside. In the warmth. In the rain. In the cold. It doesn’t matter. Away from the responsibilities of life is a welcome distraction from the weight of everything else. Instructing kids on the nuances of a game riddled with life lessons and humbling moments is a privilege that I’ve been able to maintain for the last 9 years.
Tonight is a night I will never forget. We were playing the Angels. Their head coach, Paul, is a good friend. We both attend the same church. We’ve coached together when our eldest sons (Joey and Dalton) were playing years earlier in the 9-10 league. He is honorable, respectful, and a great head coach. I’ve learned much from him.
We both longed for this game. My Rangers. His Angels. The anticipation for this game was elevated even more when Mother Nature rained out the original date postponing the game to Sunday evening.
As the away team we were up to bat first.
Their pitcher was a strike throwing fastball machine. 3 up. 3 down. They came to bat and scored 5 runs.
The 2nd inning was more of the same. 3 up for the Rangers. 3 down. Another five spot for the Angels.
At the top of the 3rd we were looking at a 0-10 deficit and no indication that anything was going to change. John the other coach and I actually discussed measures of treating the rest of the game as a learning session—if it got more out of hand, and playing kids in positions they wouldn’t normally to try to get them some experience. Not the way I was hoping the most anticipated game of the schedule was going to go down. I was hoping for a battle. Maybe a 6-6 tie going into the final inning. Tension. Nervousness. A last at bat base hit of walk-off single to close out the game. Kids piling on top of kids. No mater who won. In my mind this was to be the game of the year, and instead it was a blowout.
Then something happened. Paul replaced his ace with a pitcher who was not as strong. Our kids got on base, scored runs and we got right back in the game. In fact, at the bottom of the 4th inning the score was 10-10. A far cry from the how the game started. Now, we ended up losing 10-12, but that’s not really the story here. The story is about how the coach of the Angels didn’t pour it on. How he knew his second pitcher was not as strong but he wanted to get him in the game. Understanding the bigger picture that 9-10 year old kids having feelings that are fragile. That every ballplayer should have fun first, then win second. No matter the cost. Even in the moment I knew he was feeling this way about our game. He didn’t have to tell me. I could see it in his face. My kids left the field tonight feeling good that they battled back, not deflated because they got crushed. They didn’t give up, and had a shot to win. After the game Paul and I talked and he confirmed to me what I already suspected, and I was very grateful. Hopefully the next time our two teams meet in June the outcome will be more like he and I hoped for this game. A nail-biter to the end. Unfortunately I will be in Phoenix for work that day, and can’t be there. Unless Mother Nature intervenes again.
Humility is something the game of baseball teaches a person in spades. And they are lessons for players and coaches alike.
I will miss it when AJ grows up and it’s gone.
