Postscript for the Dodgers

I'm decompressing after a smoking 3 mile late night run in the 'hood (right at 8 minute miles), listening to "The Head and the Heart's" self-titled 2010 debut album.

The WNSL Dodgers 6U All-Star team played it's last game this afternoon.  Where to begin?  Where to end?  I'm not sure, but I do know I want to get my thoughts down while it's all still fresh in my mind.

I'll start with today.  We lost in 8 innings, 30-25, to Nolensville, playing a game that lasted more than 2 hours in 95 degree heat.  To say I was proud of my boys is an understatement.  After the game, when I sat them all down in the dugout and talked to them a final time, I got choked up and my voice caught a couple of times when I told them how proud I was of them for competing under such difficult conditions.  We were down by 5 runs, 25-20, in the bottom of the 6th inning, then rallied to tie it up with J.P. on second base.  Brennan Ayres got a base hit and his dad, coaching third base, sent J.P. home.  I so wanted J.P. to score the winning run and when he was tagged out at home, my heart sank. Extra innings and, ultimately, we lost the game in 8 innings.

I gathered my assistant coaches and the other fathers in left field and asked them if they wanted to play our second game against Bellevue.  After a brief conversation, we agreed it just didn't make send to have our boys play a second game in the heat, after they had already been out there for more than 2 hours.  So, we forfeited and didn't play the second game (against Bellevue).  It was the right call to make, but I still felt a little conflicted. 

3 tournaments in 4 weeks.  Was it worth it?  Before this weekend, I would have said "no," unequivocally.  After this weekend, now that it's over, I would say "yes."  Now, that doesn't mean I would do it again, knowing what I know now.  In the end, though, I'm glad J.P. played and I coached.  I think I learned more than he did, which is about what I thought would happen.

What will I remember most?  The boys, of course, whom I loved like they were mine (which they were, for a month, anyway).  J.D., Will, Win, Cash, Drake, Logan, Aidan, Cooper, Wes, John, Brennan, Benton and J.P.  Each and everyone of those boys is special, but for different reasons.  They had fun, which is what I wanted and all that mattered in the end.

It was a little more intense than I thought it would be, which surprise me a bit.  Too many silly rules, too, and too many parents who were way too serious about 6U coach pitch baseball.  Not so much on our team (with one exception), but on other teams for sure.  Babe Ruth/Cal Ripken Baseball requiring coaches to wear uniforms in the district tournament was silly (and I looked ridiculous).  Too much yelling and screaming at the boys - Run! Stop! Throw it! Call timeout! Slide!  It was just because the coaches and parents were excited, but still, a little too intense.

Here's the bottom line, though.  When J.P. and I were driving home together from Grandpa and Grandma's house after going for a quick swim (with J.P.'s teammate, Win), I asked J.P. if he had fun.  "Yes," he said immediately.  I continued, "Which did you like better?  Playing for the Red Sox or the Dodgers?"  "The Dodgers," he said.  "Why?"  I asked.

His reply?  "Because it was more like real baseball."

That's all I needed to hear.

My Guys

Drinking

J.P., teaching Joe to drink from a cup, outside Athlete's House.  Priceless.

Nanny Maghan

Nanny Maghan and Joe, hanging on the front porch. 

Father's Day 2014 (The 1st Mile)

Last Sunday was Father's Day.  And it was a great, great day.

Sunday morning, I got up early and went for a run, finishing at Bongo Java.  The plan was for Jude, J.P. and Joe to meet me there for breakfast.  I also knew they needed a few minutes with me out of the house, so they could make a Hershey Bar Pie for me.

Anyway, I finished my 3 mile run and ordered a "Mood Elevator" at Bongo Java.  After talking to a few of my friends that work there, I had a few minutes to relax, lost in my thoughts, as I waited for my family to join me.  It was quiet and it was nice.

When Jude, J.P. and Joe walked in, it wasn't quiet at all, but it was still nice.  At one point, as we were eating in the newly renovated front part of Bongo Java, I noticed E.J., my friend and the manager, staring at us.  Smiling, he said, "I'm wondering how you and Jude managed to make two boys who look exactly alike."  I laughed at the wonder of it all.

As we were finishing breakfast, J.P. leaned over and asked to whisper something in my ear.  "Can we run home?" he asked.  "Sure," I said.  He was ecstatic.  It's .6 of a mile from Bongo Java to our house and since J.P. has run around the block a few times with me before at the end of one my runs, I figured he would be fine.  He kept asking me, over and over, "is it time to leave for our run, yet?"  He was so excited to go for a "real run" with me that he couldn't stand it.

Finally, we walked outside, said goodbye to Jude and Joe, and started our run home.  I activated the "Runkeeper" app on my iPhone so I could keep up with how far we had gone and how fast we were running. We ran at a nice 10 minute/mile pace, talking as we ran through Belmont's campus, down Caldwell Avenue, across 12th Avenue, by the fire station and Engine #8 and down Acklen Avenue to our house. 

As we turned on to Elliott Avenue and approached our house, I noticed he wasn't very winded.  "You want to run a mile?" I asked.  J.P. looked at me, grinned, and said, simply, "yes!"  "All right, let's do it," I replied.  And we kept running around the block, down to Douglas Street, up Benton Avenue, down the alley behind our house and back up Elliott Avenue to the front of our house, where we stopped, tired but exhilarated.

The 1st mile!

It's difficult for me to put into words how much it meant to me to run a mile with J.P.  No, to run J.P.'s 1st mile with him.  Running is such an important part of my life.  It's the essence of who I am, really.  I can't describe why, really, but running is just what I do.  It defines me, which is why it's so hard when I'm hurt or busy and can't or don't run as much as I used to or want to.  What I am is a runner, first and foremost. 

So, to share that part of me with my firstborn son, J.P., was a dream come true.  I'm not exaggerating when I say that it was one of the highlights of my life.  To be able to share a run with J.P., to share his 1st mile with him - well, it's a memory I'll cherish for the rest of my life.  A snapshot moment, to be sure.  Amazing.

What's really cool, though, is that when J.P. and I run, he talks my ear off.  Often times, he's a little on the quite side.  But not when we run.  As we ran home from Bongo Java, he asked question after question.  "When did you start running?  How old were you when you ran for the first time?  Who was the first person you ran with?"  And on and on and on.  Beautiful, really.

Part of being a parent, I think, is trying on a daily basis to find common ground with your child, things your can share.  If J.P. loves running half as much as I do, we're going to have a lot to share.

Now, if I can just get Joe running . . . .

 

To Every (Baseball) Season

Wow.

What a day of learning.  For J.P. and for me.

The WNSL (West Nashville Sports League) Dodgers 6U All Stars went 1-1, losing our first game and winning our second game in Bellevue in this weekend's "Weekend Warmup" Tournament.

So much happened, or so it seems, in three hours of baseball.  I could write a book, or, at least, a chapter in a book, about what I learned and what J.P. learned (I hope) from today's games.  Very, very eventful.

J.P. got upset and, yes, cried, during both games (he wasn't the only one, as two or three others cried at some point, too).  I had hoped that wouldn't happen, although I suspected it would.  What did he get upset about?  Well, let's see.  There was not getting to play catcher when he wanted to, getting called out for running out of the baseline (borderline call that made me want to cry, too), having a kid slide into him when he was playing third base and trying to apply a tag (actually a good, hard baseball play) and when we lost the first game.

Understand, I wasn't disappointed that J.P. go upset and cried.  That's part of what I think he needed to experience, because there were times when he was forced out at second or third base and did not cry as he left the field and trotted to the dugout.  There were also times when he missed balls and did not cry, although I could tell he was disappointed.  I was as proud of him at those time as I was when he got hits (and he got several hits).  The point is, I think, that he was learning it's okay to fail, to make mistakes and to lose.  At least that's what I hope he learned.

In two games on a hot, humid June day, J.P. experienced highs and lows, successes and failures, victory and defeat.  And I think he needed that, actually.  I think it was good for him and I'm curious to see how he responds his next time out.  I hope he's able to maintain a little more of an emotional equilibrium when he fails or makes an out and not get quite so upset.  That will take time, because he's so intense when he plays sports (I wonder where that comes from), but he'll get there.  I know he will.

In the second game, I coached against my longtime friend, City League softball teammate (back in the day at West Park), and Law League softball opponent, Peter Klett.  Lots and lots of irony in us coaching against each other after so many years of playing with and against each other in softball games all over the city.  In the old days, during the City Tournament, Peter and I talked to each other on our cell phones incessantly for the two weeks of the Tournament, so much so it used to drive Jude crazy.  With a tip of the cap to "The Godfather," she used to let us "go to the mattresses" during the City Tournament and talk about nothing but softball, 10 times a day on our cell phones.  Now, here we were, a decade later, talking to each other on our cell phones multiple times about our 6U teams and the tournament they were playing in.  Funny.

Peter and I agreed it was a lot more intense than we had anticipated, for the boys and the coaches.  Pitching to our batters was a difficult and pressure filled experience for me.  I tried so hard to give them good balls to hit, but it was tough to do from a little farther back than normal.  It also was difficult pitching to boys I haven't been pitching to all season long, especially the boys that are really good hitters.  I couldn't help but be conscious of the parents and other family members watching and cheering  and jeering (more on that in a minute), as I pitched to the boys.

Late in the first game, as I pitched to our last batter, it got quiet.  Suddenly, I heard a man behind the backstop yell "come on, coach, pitch the ball in there and stop throwing it like a softball," or something to that effect.  To say I was pissed is an understatement.  I came within an eyelash of stopping the game and walking to the backstop to confront a man who it turned out was the grandfather of the boy batting.  Fortunately, I didn't.  We finished the inning and the game, and I went looking for him.  When I found him, we had what I thought was a pleasant conversation (all things considered), as I asked him to help me throw better pitches by letting me know where they were, as opposed to yelling at me.  "Be my pitching coach," I told him.

Intense?  Yes.

I also was surprised how intense the experience was for me.  I wanted badly for J.P. to do well, and he did.  Still, it was kind of stressful watching him, which I guess is just part of the deal.  Baseball is the hardest game for young boys to play, I think, because there are so many nuances to the game.  Soccer, basketball and other sports are just reaction sports.  Kick the ball in the goal, shoot the ball in the basket, etc.  Baseball requires so much more thought and knowledge of the rules.  It's just harder for boys to grasp.

Damn.  What a day.  Two more games tomorrow, too.

Play ball!

Winning and Losing

Tomorrow, J.P. makes his 6U baseball all star debut in a tournament in Bellevue.  Oh, and I make 6U baseball all start coaching debut, as well.  I'm not sure which one I'm more nervous about, to tell you the truth.

A couple of week ago, our team (the Red Sox) finished the WNSL baseball regular season.  Somehow - and I'm really not sure how it happened - I got roped into coaching the 6U all start team.  I don't like to use the phrases "6 year olds" and "all stars" in the same sentence, yet hear I am coaching a 6 year old all star team. 

Unlike the recreational league, in all star tournaments players make outs, score is kept and teams win and lose.  I'm not sure J.P. is ready for that.  Hell, I'm not sure I'm ready for that.  I'm worried about how he'll handle the disappointment of striking out, making an out or losing.  I'm also worried that he's a bit too young to experience the individualized, objective failure that everyone playing baseball experiences.  J.P.'s so intense when he plays sports.  I'm afraid failing is going to be hard for him to handle. 

I'm also afraid it's going to be hard for me to handle watching him fail, knowing how disappointed he'll be.  It's a giant step forward for him and for me.

I hope we're ready for it.