A Perfect Sunday

If I could live one Sunday for eternity, over and over again, it might be today.  

I got up early, as I normally do on Sundays, and went to Portland Brew for coffee and scrambled eggs.  A few quiet minutes while I read the online edition of the Sunday New York Times.  Portland Brew is my place, much like Bongo Java used to be, a lifetime ago.  

I picked up Ladybird Taco on 10th Avenue, near our old house, for Jude and the boys on my way home.  Breakfast  burritos and early morning chips and queso.  Jude took JP to his confirmation class, while Joe and I hung out together at the house.  

When JP got home from church, he joined me for a five mile run.  Fairfax to Elmington Park and back home by way of Belcourt Avenue and Dragon Park.  It was a beautiful spring day for a run.  It's always special to run with JP and today was no different.  We ran an easy five miles at an 8:15/mile pace, 15 seconds per mile slower than we normally run.

Afterwards, I grabbed a quick lunch at home, then drove Joe to soccer practice at MBA.  There had been some confusion about soccer, as I missed a couple of e-mails and didn't get him signed up in time.  Fortunately, his coach worked it out and Joe will be able to play soccer this spring.  

While Joe practiced soccer, Oliver Davis rode with me to Headquarters Coffee.  There, we got coffee and made plans for the baseball team we coach together and on which our sons, Joe and Preston, play.  Then, back to soccer practice and a race across town to baseball practice at Harpeth Hills Church of Christ.

Our group of boys are fabulous, so it's always fun to coach them.  I worked with four or five of them on throwing and catching, while the other boys worked with Oliver on base running and catching pop flies.  Too soon, practice ended, and Joe and I raced home.

Jude, JP, Joe, and I went to the Predators - Flyers game at Bridgestone Arena and saw a scintillating 5 - 4 Predators' victory before a packed house for a 5 p.m. start.  It had been two plus years since I had seen a hockey game at Bridgestone because or the pandemic.  Damn, it was nice to be back.

And that, my friends, was a wrap.  A perfect Sunday.

The Last Days of the Dodgers (Epilogue)

All good things must come to an end.

So it is with JP's Dodgers after our 10-year run together as a youth baseball team.  In what quite literally feels like the blink of an eye, the boys - my boys - went from coach pitch, Wookie league baseball as 4 and 5 year olds to the Prep league on the big, regulation baseball field at Warner Park to Middle School baseball for David Lipscomb, Harding, University School, J.T. Moore, and Montgomery Bell Academy.

And I find myself sitting at a quiet Portland Brew early Saturday morning, drinking coffee, wondering how it all went by so quickly. 

I officially pulled the plug on the Dodgers earlier this week when it became apparent to me that without a lot of scrambling and adding players I had never coached, it wouldn't be possible to put together a Dodgers' team to play in the West Nashville Sports League or, possibly, in tournaments on weekends.  I've known this day was coming for a while.  Still, it doesn't make it any easier for me to contemplate a life that's not in many ways - spring and fall, anyway - centered around JP's Dodgers.

A part of me recognizes it's time for the boys to move on, individually and as a group.  For their development, it's time for them to be coached by someone else.  Someone - hopefully - with more experience than I have playing the game and with more experience coaching older boys.  Teenagers.  It's also time for my boys to play with other, more skilled players and against other, more skilled players.  

Yes,  it's time for my boys, the ones who really love baseball, to play tournament, or travel, baseball.  

It's also time for me let go of the group and my place in it as the leader.  I think that's the hardest things of all for me, saying goodbye to these boys and their families, in the sense that I won't be sending encouraging e-mails to the parents before and during the season.  I won't wake up at night thinking about lineups for the next day's game.  I won't be interacting with the boys, one-on-one and as a group, at practice.  I won't be watching them improve, close up, from season to season and, sometimes, from week to week.  I won't be coaching during games with men who have become my close and dear friends, Chris Taylor, Will Wright, Tom Hayden, and Randy Kleinstick.

I also think - no, I know - that it's time to turn my focus to Joe's baseball team, the Diamondbacks.  I've been involved, of course, since we disbanded the Junior Dodgers when the pandemic arrived two years ago and Joe began playing for Oliver Davis.  Oliver and I have become close friends and, for all intents and purposes, I've been his assistant head coach.  The Don Zimmer to his Joe Torre, if you will, mostly because I've already traveled the road he is on, so to speak.

Still, the last couple of years, if there was a scheduling conflict between the Dodgers and the Diamondbacks, I generally missed Joe's game because I was the head coach of JP's team.  It didn't happen a lot but there were times when I missed Joe's practices or games.  It was okay because I knew Joe was in good hands with Oliver, who is young, energetic, and, honestly, the best youth coach in any sport I've ever been around.  

I want to give Joe and his teammates the time and attention I gave to JP and the Dodgers.  It's been refreshing, and fun, to help Oliver organize and run preseason workouts at D-bats in West Nashville for the Diamondbacks on Sundays in January and February.  The myriad of after work or late night calls that Oliver and I have had, and continue to have, as we discuss the nuances of 9 - 10 year old baseball are reminiscent of the same telephone calls I had in years past with Chris, Randy, and Will.  That's comforting, to me.  

It's easier, in a way, to say goodbye to the Dodgers, knowing that I have the Diamondbacks, the boys and their families, on the other side, ready to begin our journey together over the next few years.   

I've often thought that I wanted to write a book about my experience coaching JP and the Dodgers = for the past 10 years, a memoir, I guess.  Maybe, someday, I will.  I wanted to call it The Last Days of the Dodgers.  That title stuck in my mind a year or so ago, as I began to feel that things were winding down with this group.  Or, maybe, I'll write a long form essay.  That might work, as well.

What a run it was!  The best times of my life - hands down - have been spent with JP and his teammates, at practices and games, on baseball fields across middle Tennessee.  I'll never forget those days and nights together.  The memories will last a lifetime and beyond.

Dodgers forever.  

  

Santa Rosa Beach is in our rear view mirror, receding into the distant past, as we quickly resume our busy lives.  

Work, school, baseball practices and games, interrupted yesterday by a trip to the emergency room with Jude when she got a kidney stone.  Hopefully, she will slow down a bit and not work so hard as she waits to pass the kidney stone.  

Jude and I began going to Santa Rosa Beach more than a decade ago, before Joe was born, when JP was a toddler.  Over the years, we've stayed in multiple houses - some more than once - in Old Florida Village, across 30A from the beach.  Two swimming pools, maybe 30 houses on a dead end street, quiet.  Perfect for our family.

It's funny but being away from Santa Rosa Beach for two years because of the pandemic, I had forgotten how much we love it there.  In many ways, it was Sewanee for us before we began going, regularly, to Sewanee.  A place where we felt comfortable, like slipping on a old sweater.  Our home away from home, albeit seven hours away.

Some highlights from our trip:

• Jude's early morning walks on the beach are probably reason enough to go to Santa Rosa Beach at least once a year.  Every morning, Jude got up before the rest of us and drove the golf cart to the beach.  As the sun rose, she walked along the shoreline and picked up shells that she brought home to show us later.  Those early morning walks, I think, center her and recharge her batteries (trite, but true).
• I loved being able to run, again, on the Longleaf Pine Trail.  I loved, even more, taking JP for his first run on the trail.  The trailhead is one street down from Old Florida Village, so it's really easy to get to for me.  I don't remember when I first discovered it but it was long, long ago.  
• Although the temperature of the water was cold - cold enough that there were never more than a handful of people in the ocean at any given time - Joe, predictably, couldn't get enough of the ocean.  He would be perfect content to stay in the ocean all day long, getting knocked down by the waves over and over again.  It's paradise for him, much like it was for me at his age and through my teens and twenties.  I've often thought that as a California native, the ocean is in my blood.  It's in his, too, or so it seems.
• We had a blast at Shunk's Gulley, watching the NCAA tournament.  The boys, on different days, tried raw oysters, which was impressive, and hilarious.  JP liked them more than Joe did but, still, I was impressed that Joe tried one.  
• Sadly, the Pickle Factory - our favorite pizza joint on 30A - closed, apparently about a month before we arrived.  Grayton Beach won't be the same.  Also, our friend, Jed (and his family), sold the Blue Mountain Beach Creamery last December, so we didn't get to see him.  We've known Jed since he began working at the Creamery at age 14 or 15.  Now, he's in his mid-20's and we keep up with him on Instagram or with the occasional text message.  Still, something was lost for us not seeing him - and getting a photo - at the Creamery.
• As usual, renting a golf cart was key.  It gave us the flexibility to be two places at once, with or without the boys.  JP, of course, was itching to drive it.  We let him drive around the neighborhood with one of us supervising from the passenger seat.
• We saw a beautiful sunset one evening at Blue Mountain Beach.
• Jude and the boys invented a baseball game - played with beach paddleballs - and we played one morning at the beach.  Over the years, Jude and the boys have invented all kinds of games to play on the beach.  It's cool that they still want to play with us, particularly since that will change sooner rather than later.
• I finished three books during our stay - Scoundrel, The Mercenary, and, finally, Jay Drescher's Glasby's Treasure.  Jay is a lawyer friend of mine and Glasby's Treasure was his debut novel - a tale of pirates in the late 18th century, self-published 5 years ago.  I had meant to read it forever and finally did, finishing it, appropriately enough, sitting in a beach chair on the beach, a few yards from the ocean.  Great book.
• We discovered the Grove, an outdoor restaurant on 30A, right before Blue Mountain Beach, and had a wonderful late afternoon lunch there.  The Grove's lease is up in October, we learned, so my guess is that it won't be there when we return.

Santa Rosa Beach has changed a lot in the two years since we last visited.  It's still much less developed than Seaside, Watercolor, etc., but it's slowly catching up.  Old Florida Village is "gated" now, which was strange.  There are new houses, and developments, being built all over the place.  A neighbor told us her house in Old Florida Village had tripled in value over the past decade.  Time marches on.

A great week at the beach for our family.

 

Passing the Baton

Yesterday, we spent the middle of day at the beach.  The weather had warmed up to the high 60's/low 70's and it was actually pleasant to sit in one of our beach chairs and watch the boys - lunatics, especially Joe - swim in the cold ocean.  Lots of people of the beach but few people in the ocean.  The waves were bigger than normal, though, and Joe couldn't get enough of them.

I managed to sunburn the tops of my feet, horribly, but that's another story.  Epic fail on my part, as one of my rock solid goals in life is never to get sunburned again. 

After we left the beach and returned home in our electric blue, 6-seater golf cart - street legal, of course - I took JP for a run on the Longleaf Pine Trail.  It's one of my favorite trails in the world to run on, possibly because it's in Santa Rosa Beach and I have such bond memories, in general, of vacations we have had here.  Possibly, thought, it's because I discovered the trail by accident more than a decade ago, and it's been a bit like a secret place I go to run, once a year for a few days, to rejuvenate and find myself again.

I was looking forward to sharing the Longleaf Pine Trail with him.  It's funny but when I take JP for a run for the first time on one of my regulate routes, or trails, it's like I see it for the first time.  I notice things I haven't noticed before or, at least, not for a while.  That's the thing about having kids, I think.  Through them, you see the world, your world, differently.  I know I've found that to be the case with my boys.

It's a single track trail and since he'd never run it before, I stayed in front of him.  We didn't talk much.  Rather, we listened to Book of Rules, a reggae playlist on Spotify I got from Hiss Golden Messenger a few years ago.  It was nice - almost a form of meditation - to run with JP through the coastal woods, sand under our feet and surrounded by pine trees, with reggae music as our constant companion.  

Perhaps because I had run six miles on the trail the day before or, maybe, because I've been under the weather and taken a few days off running since we were in Sewanee, I struggled with the run, particularly the last half of it.  JP pushed me, as he always does, and we ran an 8:42 pace, which is fast considering the trail has a lot of roots, switchbacks, and sand.  I was breathing hard and, as we approach the trailhead, I lost the internal battle with my head and decided to stop at five miles and walk.  

As I slowed down, I pointed out they way home to JP - straight up the road, a turn onto 30A, then another right turn into Old Florida Village.  He listened intently as he breathed normally, nodded, and off he went.  With more than a little pride, I watched his figure as it receded in the distance ahead of me.  I was walking, then jogging again, and he was flying.  Naturally and effortlessly.

In that moment, I felt like he had taken something from me that I had given him, willingly, a gift I wanted him to have as his own.  Something I have nourished and cared for lovingly over the years.  My love of running.  I think - I hope - he has it now.  I also hope he will take care of it as I have and maybe, someday, pass it along to his son or daughter, and that maybe a part of my soul will live on through that shared love of running. 

I said a little prayer that I often say when I watch him run.

"Please run with him, Lord.  Run with him.  Now and always." 

I jogged home, a 55 year old man feeling every one of those 55 years, and met him outside our house.  He gave me a fist bump, and we walked the circle through Old Florida Village to cool down after our run.

Spring Breaking

It's March 10 and it's snowing outside because, well, of course it is.  

And not a little snow, either.  There's probably an inch on the ground and it's still coming down.  Granted, it's more crystals than snowflakes and it's not sticking on the street, but still . . . snow.  In March.

It's late and the boys are in bed.  I'm in my office, drinking a glass of red wine (Italian), listening to the Jayhawks.  I've had a Jayhawks' renaissance as of late.

Against my better judgment, we're driving to 30A - Santa Rosa Beach - for spring break tomorrow morning.  By we, I mean every single family with a child in public or private school in Williamson or Davidson Counties.  

I'm such a dumbass.

Traffic.  Crowds.  Cold weather.  An ocean too cold to swim in (same with the pool).  Omicron.  Did I mentioned the crowds?

I've always avoided the spring break trip to 30A that everyone else takes.  Three years ago - the year before the pandemic - a hurricane saved us and we canceled our trip at the last minute.  This year, no such luck.  Tomorrow morning, probably not as early as I would like, off we go.

The boys are excited, of course, and Jude is, too.  I'll be fine, I guess, after we arrive.  As always, we're staying in Old Florida Village, across 30A from the beach.  I'm having a golf cart delivered to the house, something we started doing a few years ago to make it easier to get back and forth to the beach.  It's not cheap but it's worth it, particularly because it keeps my truck from getting trashed.  

I am looking forward to slowing down a bit even if it is just for a week.  Hopefully, I'll get to run every day on the Longleaf Pine Trail.  It's one of my favorites and I'm looking forwarding to introducing it to JP. I'll read a lot, I know, and work a bit, too.  That's just part of the deal - have laptop, will work.  

It's funny but this may be one of the last trips - certainly, for spring break, when JP will want to hang out with Jude, Joe, and me.  He'll be 14, almost 15, next year, and spending time with the family might not hold much attraction for him at that point in time.  

Amavida and Sunrise Coffee for my morning (or afternoon) coffee.  Blue Mountain Creamery, for sure.  I've already alerted our friend, Jed, whose family owns the Creamery, that we're coming to town.  Pizza at the Pickle Factory.  Bud & Alley's in Seaside, a favorite of JP's.  

And so it goes.  Spring break and our return to Santa Rosa Beach after two years away.  Two years in which we haven't traveled out of state as a family due to the pandemic.  

Time to hit the road again.