Update from Woodberry Forest

I'm sitting inside at Stirling's Coffee House in Sewanee, sipping my coffee, watching the summer school students talking quietly at tables or working on their laptops.  It's nice to see people - real people - back in Stirling's, talking and laughing, mask-free.  Right, wrong, or indifferent, the world is slowly returning to normal, or for what passes as normal these days.  

J.P. has been at Woodberry Forest sports camp for a week and from what I can tell, it's going well.  His team, North Carolina, is 24 - 2, after one week of playing games in various sports against the other three teams of first time campers.  This week, as I understand it, his squad will begin to play games against teams made up of returning campers.  I suspect there will be a few more losses for J.P.'s team than they've had so far but there's nothing wrong with that.  

Photos are posted every day, along with the results of that day's games and team overall records.  It's been fun to scroll through each day's photos and find J.P., or his friend, Cecil, running and playing this sport or the other.  Competing.  

Joe seems to have adjusted well to J.P. being gone.  Jude and I laughed, at first, when he said one of the problems with J.P. being gone for three weeks is that he (Joe) would get blamed for more things.  I'm not sure where that idea came from but it was funny.  

Joe's summer basketball season ended with back to back doubleheaders on Wednesday and Thursday nights, last week.  He had a good summer season.  Although he struggled with his shot, his passed the ball extremely well.  Like J.P., Joe has the ability to see the entire court, or most of it, and to make the right basketball play, or pass, most of the time.  It's interesting, I think, the way both boys have always been able to "think the game" they're playing, whether it's baseball, basketball, or soccer.  

J.P. always has been able to see the right pass to make in basketball and soccer, when most boys couldn't.  Joe is exactly the same way.  It's fun to watch.

Time to finish my coffee and leave the Mountain and begin the drive back to reality.

Trampled By Turtles, the Mountain, and Lifelong Friends

Several months ago, I bought tickets to see a band I love, Trampled By Turtles, play outside at the Caverns in Pelham, Tennessee, 20 minutes away from Monteagle Mountain, my second home.  A former client and old friend, Todd Mayo, owns and operates the Caverns.  The Caverns hosts Bluegrass Underground, syndicated on PBS, and when the pandemic hit, he pivoted and built an outdoor concern venue and just started staging concerts there.  

The Turtles are special to me, for sure.  When Joe was little, he and I used to listen to "Stars and Satellites," an awesome Trampled By Turtles album released in 2012.  When we were into it, Joe would have been two or three, so it was 2014 or 2015.  He - and I - loved that album, especially the first four songs.  Carley and Joe listen to it a lot, too, on my iPod (those were the days), which makes the Turtles even more special to me.

I have video - probably on this blog - of Joe singing along to "Alone," as we left Gentry Farm in October, a lifetime ago.  Damn, those days.

I rented a cabin, invited my oldest friends, Doug and Mike, and this weekend, we found ourselves here in Monteagle, on the Mountain, my favorite place in the world.  

Thursday night, Doug cooked ribeye steaks for us at the cabin.  We stayed in, drank a couple of bottles of red wine, and, really, just enjoyed our time together getting caught up.  

Friday morning, Mike and I went for a run on the Trail of Tears greenway.  Mike didn't feel great, so I ran six miles, running back on the trail so we could keep running together.  Afterwards, we sent to Stirlings Coffee House, one of my favorite places, for coffee and breakfast.  Doug drove over and had breakfast with us, outside, on the side porch.

I gave Doug a tour of Sewanee's campus, we hung out at home, then drove to the Caverns for the Trampled By Turtles show.  My friend, Todd, set us up with a tour of the caves, which was amazing.  Unique, different, cool.  I can't wait to bring the boys up here for to see the caves.  Our guide, Jet, designated me as the "light engineer."  

I'll laugh at that reference 20 years from now.

The concert was, well, amazing.  I had arranged for us to have a Yeti pod.  As part of the package, we had Yeti camping chairs already set up and a Yeti cooler, with ice and beer, waiting on us when we arrived.  Pretty cool.  

The Turtles were phenomenal.  They're amazing musicians.  There was something special, I think, for many of us there, last night.  Finally, together, we shared a communal musical experience.  Life music, at its finest, outside, under the stars, in a beautiful setting.  It had been so long since many, if not most, of us had seen live music.  So memorable and near the top of my list of concerts, for a variety of reasons.

This morning, Saturday, I ran nine miles on the Trail of Tears greenway/Dimick Trial, with Trampled By Turtles playing the entire run.  Amazing run, amazing music.  Really, it was a top 5 run in 2021, a top 25 run all time.  That's how good it was.  

Mike went back to Franklin today, so Doug and I hung out.  We hiked the Fiery Gizzard Trail early this afternoon and had dinner at High Point tonight.  A few drinks and a lot of laughs.  That's what 40 + years of friendship gets you.

Tomorrow, back home and into the real world.  At least, until I return to the Mountain again.

These times Doug, Mike, and I get together are singular.  And important.  You get to a certain point in life, and you're so busy with what's going on in your immediate circle, that you don't make the time to be - really be - with your friends.  Something gets lost if you don't find the time - or set aside the time - to spend together.  I'm so glad we did that this weekend.  I tried to be in the moment and I think, for the most part, I succeeded.  I hope we get together soon.

Woodberry Forest

After a late night at the Quirk Hotel in Charlottesville watching Game 7 of the Brooklyn-Milwaukee NBA conference semifinals and Vanderbilt's 11 inning win over Arizona in the CWS, J.P. and I got up early and drove to Woodberry Forest School so I could drop him off at sports camp.  The drive was short and we made it in under an hour.

Woodberry Forest School - where J.P. will spend the next three weeks - is nestled in a bucolic 1200 acre campus of rolling, tree covered hills.  As we drove up the long, winding driveway this morning, we saw golfers on the 18 hole golf course to our left.  To our right, we saw a variety of athletic fields - baseball, several football fields, soccer, and lacrosse.  You name it, they play it at Woodberry Forest.  

J.P. really didn't seem nervous as we parked my truck and began to unload his gear, with the help of a couple of rising juniors at Woodbury Forest School.  When they learned J.P. had been assigned to the "North Carolina" team - all of the teams, within cohort groups, are named after an ACC school - the boys smiled.  "You'll love your coach," one of the boys said.  "He's really cool."  

The coaches, akin to camp counselors, are college students and graduates of Woodberry Forest.  As far as I could tell from the bios on the website, all of the coaches are athletes who played one or more sports at Woodberry Forest.  Some play college sports.  A perfect match for J.P., given his love of sports.

First, we dropped off J.P.'s sports equipment - tennis racket and baseball equipment bag - then we checked him in and another young man helped us carry his suitcase and duffle bag to his dormitory room.  It was spartan, as I expected.  Two boys to each room.  Two single beds, low the floor, and matching plain, nondescript dressers and small desks.  

At my suggestion, J.P. quickly unpacked his clothes and placed a few books on the dresser.  His roommate, with whom we're acquainted but don't know well, is from Nashville also and is at Ensworth Middle School.  J.P.'s friend, Cecil, will be in the room next door to J.P.  Cecil's dad, Giles - an alumni - gave us a quick tour and showed us the bookstore, where J.P. stocked up on Woodberry Forest swag.  Hat, pullover, etc.

I left a little while later, a little after 11 a.m., as J.P.'s North Carolina team was gathering together as a group for the first time.  They walked by us, boys of various ages and sizes, a few wearing baseball caps, like J.P.  I gave J.P. a final hug, walked with Giles to have a look at the basketball court, then got in my truck and slowly, ever so slowly, drove down the driveway and pulled out to begin my nine hour trip back to Nashville.

I stopped for coffee in Charlottesville at Shenandoah Joe's, so I could get some caffeine in my system and collect my thoughts.  So, here I sit, coffee finished and thoughts, for the most part, collected.

I'm excited for J.P., of course.  What could be better for him than to spend three weeks away from home, playing sports all day long, and making new friends.  I think he'll enjoy himself immensely.  

Still, three weeks away with no J.P. will be strange.  I'll miss running with the Kid, as I call him when I log my runs in my running journal.  Fortunately, the website is updated daily with blog posts and photographs, so we should be able to keep up with how J.P. and the rest of the North Carolin team are doing.  That's the plan, anyway.

As I told J.P. over dinner last night, experiencing new things and getting out of your comfort zone helps to form who you become, and who you are, as you get older.  We're shaped, in many ways, by our life experiences.  

I think J.P.'s experience at Woodberry Forest over the next three weeks will have a profound impact on who he is in this, his summer of change and change and transition.  First, camp, then a new school in the fall.  

My boy is growing up and I'm damn proud of him. 

JP Heads to Camp

In a little while, J.P. and I leave for Charlottesville, Virginia, where we'll spend the night before I drive him the rest of the way to Woodberry Forrest Sports Camp.  There, he'll spend the next three weeks, on his own, with 70 other boys playing and competing in a variety of sports.

I think it's the opportunity of a lifetime for J.P. and I'm proud of him for seizing it.  This morning, over coffee at 8th & Roast, I do find myself shaking my head, though, and wondering how we got here, from out many sojourns in the Baby Jogger City Elite stroller to J.P. leaving for camp for three weeks.

Last winter, at a Belmont U. basketball game, my fiend, Giles, texted me a link to the camp.  I showed it to J.P., who was with me at the game, and spent a minute or two looking at it.  J.P. has never been to a real sleep away camp, so I thought that was all there was to it.  

Later in the week, he looked up Woodberry Forrest on his iPad and showed the camp information to Jude. He mentioned to her a couple of times, actually, that he wanted to go.  I was surprised, but proud, when she told me what he'd said and, well, here we are, a few month later.  I'm having coffee on a summer Saturday morning and within the hour, J.P. and I will be off on our road trip.

To camp.

Perhaps because I never went away to camp, I've always had this romanticized notion of what sleep away camp is like.  Reading The Interestings, by Meg Wohlford, several years ago - a wonderful book - reenforced my ideas about sleep away camp.  Although Jude handn't been too wild about the idea of J.P. going away to camp in years past, she was on board this year, possibly because Giles' son, Cecil - one of J.P.'s buddies from USN - will be there.  

What do I want J.P. to get out of camp?  So much.  Maybe too much.  I don't know.

I want him to make lifelong friends from across the United States.  

I want him to gain the self-confidence and independence that can only come from being on his own.  No cellular telephone.  No iPad.  No way to contact us.  

I want him to establish his own identity with in a group of 70 boys.  I want him to lead.

I want him to compete.

I want him to have the fun, to have the time of his life.  

I want him to want to go back next year.

When I talked to Giles this week, he told me that Cecil was nervous, scared even, about going to camp for three weeks.  J.P. has told me he's fine with it.  Is he telling me the truth?  Maybe.  Probably.  Either way, here we are.

My boy, my oldest boy, whom I strolled through our. neighborhood with on so many occasions.  The one I call my protege, as we sit up at night watching NBA games on televisions.  He's going to camp.

And I couldn't be prouder of him.

Guytown

The nights I spend with the boys alone are few and far between.  In years past, before the pandemic and when Jude had a different job, Jude occasionally traveled out of town for a few days at a time.  When she was gone, I always joked that the boys and I were in "Guytown."  

Things are different in Guytown.  Different bedtimes, different ideas about dinner, different morning routines, etc.  You know, Guytown.

Yesterday, Jude left in the morning for an overnight work trip.  Strategic planning, long range planning, leadership team meeting, or some such.  I was excited because it meant the boys and I would take a quick, overnight trip to Guytown.  A quick trip because she's due back in town late this afternoon.

I had a mediation yesterday - one of my own cases - and after it settled about 5:45 p.m., I hurried home.  On the way, I ordered takeout for the boys from the Grilled Cheeserie in Hillsboro Village.  When I arrived home, I rushed in, got ready for my softball game, and the three of us rushed out the door a few minutes later.  After picking up their dinner, it was off the Cleveland Street Park for my first Nashville Bar Association softball game of the season.

I was looking forward to playing because it's been almost two years since I've seen some of my teammates, our umpires, and other players in the league.  With a huge grin on my face and a bandanna on my head (as has been my tradition for more than 25 years), I hopped out of my truck when we arrived at Cleveland Street Park.  Leroy, Gary, and Fitzy - our umpires forever - couldn't believe how big the boys had gotten.  Sometimes, I can't believe it either.

Our team - the Russians (old story) - played our oldest rival and defending league champions, the Independents.  For me, the game had it all.  I fouled out their best hitter in the first inning.  I bantered with the other team and the umpires as I pitched (normal for me).  I drove in a run with a single to left field but grounded out twice (also normal for me).  I got in a heated argument with Gary, who was the home plate umpire, over whether our last run scored before our player was tagged out a third base (very normal for me).  In the end, we lost 12 - 11, in what was an enjoyable and entertaining game.

Afterwards, I apologized to Gary for yelling at him and admitted he made the right call (all too normal for me).  Then, I had a beer with Leroy and a few of my teammates, just like the old day.  Quint, my teammate and the son of my former teammate, Worrick (that's how old I am), gave the boys some lessons on how to throw a changeup.  It was like old times.

The boys and I stayed up a bit late watching the NBA playoffs.  This morning, I made them breakfast, and we watched Sportscenter.  While I got dressed, Joe played a few of his favorite Tom Petty songs on Alexa, which always starts my mornings off right.  The fact that Joe loves Tom Petty like I love Tom Petty never ceases to amaze me.  It's a bond we share and always will, I suppose.

I drove them to basketball camp at Belmont, in the new practice facility, about three blocks from our house, then dropped them off.  A pitch perfect morning. 

I love my time with the boys in Guytown.  

  

  

The Last Days of the Dodgers

J.P.'s Dodgers picked up a couple of extra games this week.  

Thursday, we played what amounted to a scrimmage against the Commodores, a team of good boys we're evenly matched with and have played three times earlier in this season.  They only had eight players and after Benton hit a batter in the wrist, they were down to seven players.  We loaned them a different player each inning when they were in the field and played on.  

Benton struggled with a stiff back and his control in the inning he pitched.  I feel badly for him, as his back was been a problem all season and its affected his pitching.  Not his hitting, though, as he's been our best power hitter, hands down.  

J.P. pitched relatively well.  He walked his first batter in the last eight innings over three outings.  In the 11-7 victory, he pitched four innings, gave up two hits, struck out three, and walked one.  The Commodores scored three runs against him, although they may have been unearned.  A good, but not great, outing.  

Today, we played an 11 a.m. game against the Donelson Duelers.  They were mostly 14 year olds with a couple of 15 year olds mixed in.  They were missing three or four of their better players, according to their coach, due to a conflict with another tournament.  We've played them before, a couple of years ago, in an all star tournament in Lewisburg.  Lost a close game, as I recall.  It was the game where Porter - allegedly - stepped in front of home plate when he got a hit and was called out, after which all hell broke loose.  I had to calm our fans down so we could finish the game.

Cyrus started on the mound today and pitched well.  He got in trouble in the first inning.  After giving up a run (leadoff hit by pitch), Donelson loaded the bases with one out.  I went out and talked to him and to J.P., who was catching.  Cyrus got the next batter to pop up to third.  Then, after he ran the count to 2-0 on the final batter of the inning, I switched him from the windup to the stretch, and he struck the kid out to end the inning.  Giving up only one run was victory. 

We scored two runs in the bottom of the first inning.  Cyrus held Donelson scoreless in the second inning, after which we scored nine runs and the game was over.  

Ethan pitched the fourth inning and looked very good.  He gave up one hit but struck out two batters on wicked curve balls.  

Jonathan and Turner, at the top and bottom of the order, had two hits each.  Elijah had a big hit to deep left-center field, too.

Overall, the boys looked really, really good today, like a baseball team.  Outfielders hit the cutoff men.  No errors that I can recall.  Good, fundamentally sound baseball.  A pleasure to watch and a pleasure to coach.

The Last Days of the Dodgers

If Monday night was the end of the line for the Dodgers - and I hope it wasn't - it was a memorable night for sure.

East Nashville's new prep field wasn't quite ready, so the boys got to play on the Old Timer's Field in Shelby Park which, as I understand it, is the second oldest baseball field in Nashville.  Interestingly enough, it's privately owned and maintained, although it's located in Shelby Park.  It was built in 1914 and scores of major leaguers have played there over the years, including current players, like Mookie Betts and David Price and former players, like Wayne Garland, R.A. Dickey, and Orestre Destrade.  

In all my years playing in the city softball tournament at Shelby Park and running the trails in Shelby Bottoms, I've never played or coaches at Old Timer's Field.  It was special and I told my players about it before the game.

As I walked into the ballpark from the parking lot Monday evening, I realized I knew our umpires.  Both were older gentlemen and one, in fact, I represented in a workers' compensation case more than a decade ago.  Jerry has been working as an umpire in Metro Nashville for more than 40 years.  He's called college and high school games forever.  It was a treat to see him again.  I introduced him to my players and he told them that Babe Ruth once practiced in the field when he was in town to play a game at Sulpher Dell and hit a ball over the right field fence into the Cumberland River.

I'm not sure if that story is accurate but it impressed my players.  Their eyes widened as Jerry told them, before our games, that they were playing on a field that Babe Ruth had played on.  Most, but not all of them, are still a little young, at 13, to be skeptical or cynical, which is sweet.

Our opponent for the double header was a 14U East Nashville team that is in the early stages of their season.  A good team with power and speed and good competition for us, although it didn't seem that way in the first game.

We had a full squad, as did East Nashville.  We batted all 12 players and they batted, I think 13 or 14.  It would have been interesting if both squads had batted their best 9 players.  

In game 1, their starting pitcher struggled with his control and the catcher wasn't very good.  In part because there is a huge amount of space between home plate and the backstop, our players ran wild on the bases.  Every passed ball was an extra base and our players ran at will on their catcher.  Almost any passed ball or wild pitch meant a runner in third base scored easily.

Ethan battled for three innings on the mound.  Although he allowed a few baserunners and struggled with his control, at times, he kept his emotions in check (always a challenge for him).  Overall, he pitched as well as he has all year long.  One pitching sequence, in particular, was memorable, as he absolutely froze at batter with a 2-2 curve ball that broke right over the plate for a strikeout looking.  It was real baseball and it was impressive.  

Cyrus, by far our youngest player, pitched the last inning and retired all 3 batters he faced.  He looked good, real good.  

Benton continues to knock the cover off of the baseball.  He hits it harder, consistently, than anyone on our team and anyone we've faced all season long.  It's interesting but for a few years, Benton's pitching was ahead of his hitting, and now it's the other way around.  He's my tallest kid, by far, and one of the "Core Four," whom I've coached since the very first year when they were 5 years old.  He's also one of the boys I feel closest to because I've watched him grow up on baseball fields across middle Tennessee. 

Benton has a burning desire to succeed, to win, and in past years, he could be his own worst enemy.  If he struck out, or struggled with his control while pitching, he sometimes lost control of his emotions.  What is so special to me, really, is how much he has matured.  He's still intense, and he still can get down on himself or mad at an umpired, but he's found a way, it seems, to channel his competitive drive into what he's trying to do at the plate or in the field.  

In game 2, I started J.P.  Tracy, Kaitlyn, and Matthew came to game, which was special.  I wanted them to have a chance to see J.P. pitch.  He continued his hot streak and pitched well, again.  He was economical with his pitches in the three innings he pitched.  J.P. gave up one or two hits, walked one, and struck out five batters.  It was his first walk in his last three appearances, spanning eight innings.  He's got better control than any pitcher we have at this point and is able to move the ball in and out and to keep it low, which makes life difficult for the hitter.

My favorite moment for J.P. of the game, and maybe the season, happened bottom of the the third inning.  East Nashville's dugout was rowdy, with two outs, as J.P. ran the count on the batter to 3-1.  The players in their dugout were chanting, loudly, "TWO OUT RALLY!!"  They also were banging on a couple buckets of baseball and the dugout roof in an effort to distract J.P.  This had been going for a while but it reached a crescendo when it looked like J.P. was going to issue a walk.

J.P. battled back, got strike two, then struck the batter out on an inside fastball.  As we walked off the pitcher's mound - and Old Timer's Field has a real, elevated pitcher's mound - he glared into the third base dugout for at least five seconds.  The East Nashville players, and fans, were silent.  I loved every minute of it, of course.  To see my son - who is almost always a cool customer when he's pitching - strike out the last batter and stare down the other team - was special.  A Kodak moment for me.

J.P. left with a 1-0 lead.  Unfortunately, I made a huge tactical error and let Wes pitch next.  He pitched in a tournament the day before but told me he didn't throw a lot of pitches and was good for one inning.  I knew better but I wanted Wes - another member of the "Cour Four" - to have a chance to pitch on the Old Timer's Field.  I could tell three pitches in that he didn't have it, especially after he hit the first batter on the first pitch he threw.  He gave up five runs, including two bombs to the fence by the third and fourth hitters in East Nashville's lineup.  That one was on me, as I told the boys after the game.

Benton pitched next and looked great.  He threw heat and was completely in command, long hard flying behind him with every pitch.  He gave up one run which was a fluke, really.  One batter pulled a fast ball into left field for a single and came around to score.  

Our boys rallied, big time.  Nico had a huge two out single.  In the bottom of the last inning, Cyrus had a huge double to make the score 6-5, East Nashville, and leave us with runners on second and third.  Harrison hit a ball hard and deep to left center field.  For a minute, I thought he had knocked the tying and winning runs, but the center fielder went back one the fall and made a nice catch.  Game over.

So, the Dodgers split the double header and would have swept it had I made a better decision on how pitched after J.P. in game 2.  

The East Nashville coaches were fantastic.  Great guys.  Their fans and players were super, too.  It was a just a good night of baseball.

Oh, and early in the second game, a few parents heard what sounded like a gunshot.  Suddenly, a car pulled up to the fence behind our first base dugout.  A man got our, blood streaming down his face, and asked one of parents to call 911.  He had been shot at through the windshield of his car and the bullet had grazed the top of his head.  Soon enough, police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances were on the scene. 

We just kept playing baseball.

Yep, a memorable night, all the way around.

J.P. in the dugout.  Always concentrating.  Always focused.

Winn Hughes and his dad, Will, with Ethan (right).

Benton and his dad, Will.  With the Dodgers from Day 1.

The Last Days of the Dodgers

 Yesterday, my Dodgers played Mt. Juliet on field 1 at Warner Park.  Originally, we were supposed to play at Mt. Juliet but their field wasn't available, so we moved the games to our place.  It was cool, actually, for the boys to play a Prep doubleheader on field 1, since it's a historic youth baseball field, at least in my mind.

As I told the nine boys I had before game 1, field 1 at Warner Park, when I was a kid, was a field on which the elite baseball players in Nashville played, many of whom played baseball in college.  This was before every other boys played travel baseball, of course.  Teams like the Shoetiques and Twitty City played there.  On occasion, when we drove by the park on a spring or summer evening, the lights on field 1 were always on and as we drove by on Old Hickory Boulevard, I looked out the window of my mom's car to catch a glimpse of the baseball game.  

Mt. Juliet, whom we played earlier in the season, isn't a very good team.  My boys beat them handily, 13-2 and 15-6.  

J.P. started game 1 and pitched well.  He went two innings, allowing one hit while striking out four batters and walking none. The last couple of games, J.P. has looked comfortable and in control on the mound.  In his last two outings, he's been impressive.  Five innings, two hits, nine strikeouts, no walks.  And that's without an off speed pitch or a curve ball.  

After the season is over, I'm going to get him with a pitching coach.  I'd love to have someone who knows a helluva lot more than me, about pitching, work with him and teach him how to change speeds and, perhaps, throw a curve ball.  If he keeps growing, and working, I think J.P. can be a decent pitcher.  His fastball has some pop and, at least lately, his control has been good.  Once he has an off speed pitch he can throw for a strike, I think J.P. will start to think more about his approach and how to keep a hitter off balance.  

Elijah pitched two innings after J.P. and did well, too.  He looked good.  Of all my boys, Elijah is the one who is just, naturally, a baseball player.  It's clearly the sport he loves.  There's real value, I think, in deciding at 13 or 14, which sport (or maybe two sports) you want to play and working hard all year to get better at that sport.  Elijah is a big boy, but fairly quick on his feet.  Interestingly, he's my best outfielder, one of my best baserunners, and one of my more versatile players.  He typically starts in left field but also can play first base and pitch, when needed.  I've played him at third base, too.  I expect to see big things from him at David Lipscomb in years to come.

The second game started a little more slowly for us, as Ethan struggled early pitching.  Benton struggled a bit, too.  Ultimately, Mt. Juliet ran out of pitching and we started hitting the ball some, too.  Cyrus pitched the last inning and looked really good, with J.P. catching.  I love the way - when he catches - that J.P. tucks himself in right under the hitter's bat and gives the pitcher a nice target.  It's easier for the umpire to call balls and strikes and it's much, much easier on the pitcher when the catcher is up tight on home plate.

Cyrus always has been our youngest player.  I hate that his year he's playing for another team, too, a tournament team.  From what I understand, he's not getting to pitch or play much.  He's only played a few games for us, which has been disappointing.  I would pitched him quite a bit and gotten him the reps he needs.  To me, it doesn't make a lot of sense, at his age, to play him on a team where he's not going to get to pitch regularly, but that's just me.  I've always thought, and continue to think, the Cyrus could have a future in high school and, even, college, as a pitcher if he got some private coaching and worked at it.

With Cyrus, it's always a confidence thing.  The more confident he is, the better he pitches.  I think he's comfortable with J.P. behind home plate when he pitches.  It's been fun this year to see Cyrus interact with the boys on the bench and to start to gain confidence.  He's always been a quite kid but he's starting to come out of his shell, which is cool.  He's an athlete.  I know it but my challenge always has been to make sure he knows it.

I took some photos afterwards, of the players and my coaches.  Monday night, in East Nashville, may well be our last games together, certainly for the summer, maybe forever.  That remains to be seen but it's been on my mind for a while now.  Time will tell.