The Nationals

And just like that it was over.

Joe's brief run with Coach Troy and the Nationals for a short spring baseball season closed with a loss to the Braves, 6-5, in the WNSL end of season tournament last weekend.  The last 4 games of the season were decided by one run.  An 18-17 win, a 4-3 loss, a 2-1 win, and a 6-5 loss.  

I was proud of Joe for how he pitched in the Braves' game.  Joe came on in relief - after Emmett and Ram - and retired all seven batters he faced, striking out three of the first four.  His control was great, which has not been the case as of late.  Joe has struggled uncharacteristically on the mound this spring, so it was nice to see him finish strong and have something to build on as he moves into all-stars and June baseball.

Several of Joe's teammates will move in to Prep baseball one the big field, as they're turning 13 years of age in the near future.  Eli, James, Jack, Bryce.  All good boys. 

A quick word about Eli, a player I quickly grew to admire this season.  Versatile, tough, very coachable.  A winner.  Excellent shortstop with great instincts.  An absolute animal as a pitcher.  Tough as nails.  He finished the Padres off in the Nationals' 2-1 win in between throwing up in the dugout after eating Hardees chicken tenders before the game.  (Insert Hardees' joke here.). I'd like to have had the opportunity to coach Eli, as I like his makeup.  He has that something.  Actually, he reminds a little bit of JP.  Quiet, determined, confident on the baseball field.

It was a blessing, for sure, to land with Coach Troy and the Nationals, and for Joe to be able to play with original Junior Dodgers Trey, George, Ram, and Nico.  During a recent game when Eli was pitching, I realized the entire infield was Junior Dodgers, all 11 year olds in an 11-12 year old league.  Trey at third base, Joe at shortstop, Ram and second base, and Nico at first base.  It made be proud to see that.  Very proud.  

It worked out well for Coach Troy and for our boys, too.  Troy had unexpectedly lost several of his players  before the season started, so I was able to land my guys as a group on a ready made team with a handful of players that had played together in past seasons.  It took some work on my part combined with dumb luck, but it happened.  

While it sucked for a variety of reasons to be left by Oliver Davis - formerly a close friend - without a baseball team to play with a week and a half before the spring baseball season started, the parents of my boys were pleased with the way the season unfolded.  Our boys were ready for 11-12 year old baseball.  Real baseball.  More than one parent mentioned to me how glad they were we weren't spending another season playing with inexperienced players against cupcake teams.  Baseball players develop, physically and emotionally, by playing against a higher level of competition.  The struggle is what make them tougher and, in the end, better baseball players.  

Winning games in a 9-10 year old league against opposing pitchers who can't throw strikes while at least two of your players' voices already have changed isn't my idea of good competition.  Some parents, like Oliver, choose the easy road for their boys.  They coddle them.  In sports and in life.  That's not any way.  To each his own, I guess.

Judging from JP's success and the success of his Dodgers teammates - Wes, Benton, Porter, Jonathan, and Elijah - I'm pretty confident my Dodgers' coaches and I did it the right way.  All of those boys were contributors to their middle school or freshman/junior varsity baseball teams this season.  All of those boys initially took their lumps when we moved them up, early, to the next age group in WNSL baseball.  They were stronger because of the struggles, though, and then won a state championship when they were 11 years old, too.     

As I've written, it was different for me to watch Joe and his teammates play baseball and not to be coaching.  A different vantage point, to be sure.  I suspect I will be back out on the field coaching Joe in the fall in one capacity or another.  

It was fun watching the parents of the Nationals' boys grow closer as then season progressed.  The players quickly bonded, too.  Joe is the kind of kid that manages to fit in wherever he is on whatever team his is playing for at the moment.  He's a natural leader.  Confident, charismatic, funny, and kind.  Always a good teammate and always coachable.  

It will be interesting to see what the baseball future holds for this group of boys.  

Mother's Day

It's been a little more than four years since my mom died.  I think about her almost every day, even now.  Mother's Day is bittersweet and I guess that will never change.  While I very much appreciate my wife, Jude, and all that she does for our boys, it's hard for me to shake the melancholy I feel on Mother's Day.

It's strange but I'm afraid if I think too deeply about my mother and all that I miss about my relationship with her, I'll find myself enveloped in sadness and unable to function properly.  Pondering all that was lost the last few years of her life and when she died is an exercise in emotional futility.  I don't think there is anything to be gained by it other than feeling sorry for myself.  

Still, it's hard not to think about how much my mom would have loved seeing my boys grow up.  JP and Joe would have had so much fun talking sports with her.  Her love of sports - reading the sports page, watching and going to games, listening to sports talk radio - would have been the coin of the realm in her relationship with them, much as it was in her relationship with me.  Ours was such a unique relationship - deeper in many ways that mother and son - a friendship or a kinship of sorts.  I know she would have had a similar relationship with my boys.

Beyond that, my mother dedicated her life to her children and to her family.  After the death of my father my 31 year old mother could have done anything with her life.  She was young, intelligent, attractive and living in California, just outside Los Angeles.  She was financially secure, whatever that meant in the early 1970's due in part to life insurance and a prudent investment she and my dad made in stock in a hospital.  She could have dated, remarried, and maybe had another child or two.

She did none of those things, however.  She moved her young family from California to middle Tennessee to be closer to her family, I suppose, with a sister in Green Hills and another one in Gallatin.  She dated - briefly - on only one occasion that I can recall.  Instead, she took care of Tracy and me, adding Alice to our family when her sister died in the late 1970's.   

That's not all she did, of course.  Shortly after we moved back to Tennessee, she earned a master's degree in education from Vanderbilt's Peabody College of Education and taught at an inner city school for a couple of years.  She returned to nursing, later, and worked nights for 17 years at Baptist Hospital, where she positively impacted many, many lives and families.  

What she did mostly, though, is talk care of her family.  My Aunt Margaret then, in later years, her mother (my grandmother).  And Tracy, Alice, and me and, of course, Kaitlyn, Matthew (Tracy's children) and mine, too.  She so loved her grandchildren.

What might have been is hard place to go, for me, anyway.  I wish my mom could have seen JP and Joe compete.  Although she would have been a nervous wreck, she would have loved watching JP pitch a seven inning complete game in a 1-0 loss to David Lipscomb in the final game of his middle school baseball season.  She also would have loved to watch Joe play left field, shortstop, and pitcher, and lead his team from all three positions.  

Similarly, my mom would have loved watching JP be confirmed in the Catholic Church after almost two years of classes.  She would have loved watching Joe take his first communion, too.  

Maybe, though, she is watching JP and Joe, or watching over JP and Joe.  That's what I need to believe and it's what I do believe.  

Happy Mothers' Day, Mom.  I miss you.

 

The Return of Coach Phil

For me, Joe's baseball season has been a tough one.  After scrambling to find a place for Joe and several of my original Junior Dodgers, we landed with the Nationals.  I could have indirectly forced my way on to the field since I was bringing five boys to the team, but the Nationals were Troy's team and he already had a pretty tight group of three coaches.  The upshot is that for all of Joe's games this spring, I have found myself on the outside looking in, watching from my camping chair behind the backstop, walking over to the dugout to offer occasional tips to Joe and his teammates. 

It's been different, for sure, to watch Joe play baseball at the age of 11 and not be coaching him on the field during practices and games.  It's been even harder to watch our players make the same mistakes game after game, fielding and base running.  The mistakes I see are ones I would have corrected at practice but this team doesn't practice for reasons I can't begin to understand.  At age 11, I had the Dodgers practicing twice a week, which is when we really started to see the boys improve as baseball players.

Tuesday night, between games of a doubleheader in Grassland, I walked out on to left field - in my shirt and tie - where the coaches were addressing the players.  I stood there until Troy looked at me and asked if I had anything to add.  

"Actually, I do," I said.  Then, for about five minutes, I reminded the boys that baseball was supposed to be fun.  "It's not a job and it's not work," I told them.  

I had noticed they were pressing more and more as the season went along.  They just weren't having fun.  A couple of parents had made the same observations to me, as well.  Because the parents of my five Junior Dodgers had trusted me when I brought the boys to this team, I felt a sense of responsibility to do something to improve their baseball experience this spring.

"Do you know what we, as parents, like to see when we're watching you boys play baseball?"  I asked.  "Not winning, although that's pretty cool.  We like to see all of you smiling, laughing, and having fun." 

I implored them to play the next game for their teammates, to support each other, and above all, to have fun playing baseball.  That was the gyst of my message.  

So, what happened against the Cutters?  

The boys got an early lead, lost it, got another one, and almost lost it before winning 18-17.  It was a top 5 baseball game to watch or coach, for me, all time.  I'll write more about it later because it had a little bit of everything.  

But that's not what I'm here to write about.  Not this morning. 

I'm here to write about the return of Coach Phil, last night, on field #4 at Warner Park.  The Nationals vs. the Reds, well coached by my friend and former softball opponent from the West Park 3A Civil League days, Pat.  Great guy.  Great coach.

A few months ago, Jude bought tickets for us to hear Tom Hanks interviewed by Ann Patchett at MBA.  It was a big deal and I was very excited to go.  As I was driving home Thursday afternoon, however, and trying to arrange transportation to and from the game for Joe, I learned all of Joe's coaches were out for the game and volunteers were needed to coach.  It took me all of 30 seconds to decide cancel my plans to see Tom Hanks so I could coach Joe and his teammates.

We arrived at Warner Park about 45 minutes before game time.  One of the other dads was in the cage, throwing batting practice, so I took some of the rest of the boys behind the batting cages to warm up.  Immediately, I made a slight adjustment to Emmett's throwing mechanics, and complimented him on the whip-like arm motion he has when he throws.  

Emmett is our smallest player but has a surprisingly good arm and I wanted to make sure he knew I believed he had real talent as a pitcher.  He grinned as we talked but I could see him gain confidence.  Emmett needed to be noticed, to be seen, by a coach.  Instinctively, I knew that.  Knowing each boy and how to reach him - along with giving each boy what he needs to succeed - that's what coaching is all about, I think.

As the boys finished hitting in the cage, I lined them up to play "giant pepper," a game I invented with JP's Dodgers several years ago.  It's traditional pepper - where the boys are in a line and one throws the ball to me, after which I hit a grounder or line drive to another one.  He fields the ball and throws it to me again.  The twist in my game is that if a boys bobbles the ball or makes a bad throw, he's out.  The last boy standing wins.  It's competitive, which the boys love.  Also, I keep up a running banter as we play, which the boys also love.  It's were a lot of the Dodgers earned their nicknames.  The Big Cat (Wes), the Mongoos (JK), the Helpless Gazelle (Aidan), etc.

When the game before us on field #4 finished, our boys walked over to the third base dugout, hung up their gear, and began to get ready to play.  I took them out in left field, lined them up single file, and hit grounders to them in a drill I used with the Dodgers for many years.  Rather than Chris and Randy hitting ground balls to the boys in two groups, it was me with one group.  Again, like the old days.

I started Eli - the most talented player on the team - at pitcher but planned on keeping a close eye on him because he had pitched an inning Tuesday night to close the game.  Eli is a quiet kid that I've taken a real interest in this season, as much as I can with not being not he field as a coach.  He loves baseball and his dad is not a sports guy, so I've tried to give him some guidance.  I slightly adjusted his batting stance after throwing batting practice before a game and he began pulling the ball and hitting with power.  He's got real talent and natural ability.  

Eli tends to overthrow, so I had been encouraging him to throw 80%, especially, against the bottom half of any team's lineup.  He gave us a couple of good innings, then I got him out of the game.  I did the same things with Emmett, who pitched well.  I got one good inning out of him - which was enough - because he pitched three innings or so on Tuesday.  Plus, Emmett pitched well in the inning and I wanted him to leave the game with confidence, which is critical for any pitcher.  

Many times over the years, I've pulled a pitcher who might have a little bit left I the tank - Porter, Cyrus, Benton - when they've finished a good inning.  It's a confidence thing.  Why run a pitcher back out there and have to pull him when he loses his control as he's tiring or starts getting hit, when I can pull him after having finished a solid inning or two?  That way, he's confident for his next outing, too.  It's a no brainer.

Joe pitched a couple of innings, too, and he pitched well.  Much better than he has so far this season.  Getter control and decent velocity.  He had an epic battle with the Reds' best hitter, a hulking left-hander.  Joe got ahead of him 0-2, the mixed a couple of balls in with strikes that the boy fouled off.  In the end, the batter worked the count to 3-2 and got a walk.  Great battle.  

I coached third base, which I love and always have.  As I've said many times, I can get more coaching in at first or third base - in game - than anywhere else on the field.  This is especially true because our boys have not receive any coaching on base running, leading off, stealing bases, etc.  The in game coaching - at first and third base - had not been good.  

I changed the signs before the game.  I also stopped the boys from always taking the first pitch, which is what one of our coaches told them to do.  That's not a baseball philosophy I agree with because I don't want my batters hitting from behind all of the time.  We manufactured two runs on good base running - George and Emmett - and Joe stole third on his own by studying the pitcher's front leg.  That was awesome and one of my favorite things about the game. 

Emmett, who is small but very quick, listened when I stressed to him that if he could pull the ball and hit a grounder to the left side of the field, he would be difficult to throw out at first.  In his last at bat, he battled, fouling two or three balls off with two strikes.  He was late, though, and from where I was standing down the third base line I reminded him to focus on having a quicker bat.  Sure enough, he hit a grounder down the third base line, beat it out, then stole second and third, before scoring on an RBI fielder's choice by Trey on a ground out to second base.  Great at bat and great aggressive base running.

Later, Joe walked, then quickly stole second base.  He noticed the pitcher wasn't paying close attention to him, as he never glanced his way before he began his move toward home.  Without a second thought, Joe broke for third base, sliding in well ahead of the throw from the catcher.  A smart, smart baseball play by Joe, stealing without being given the steal sign because he was paying attention to the pitcher, who wasn't paying attention to him.  It's the little things that I love about baseball.

After the game was over, I jogged out to left field, and the boys jogged after me.  How many times have I jogged into left or right field at the end of games with the Dodgers and Junior Dodgers?  Countless times or so it seems but not at all the last few years, as the Junior Dodgers were subsumed into the Diamondbacks.  It felt so natural, though, to be taking a knee in the outfield, again, late on a school night, thinking about what to say as a group of 11 and 12 year old boys looked up expectantly at me.

I told them how proud I was of them for playing hard against a very good Reds' team.  I pointed out a couple of mistakes that were made - one by Joe - but made sure to compliment them and dwell on the positives I saw from the game.  I recognized Bryce, a quiet boy I don't know too well, for his play at second base.  He made two nice plays in one inning, then a nifty play the next inning, after I put him in at second base.  Something told me he needed the recognition and to be seen.  So, that's what I did, telling the boys if I had a game ball to give, it would go to our "Gold Glove" second baseman, Bryce.

As Joe and I pulled out of the parking lot, I saw Emmett and his father standing at their car, unloading Emmett's gear.  He was talking excitedly to his father with a huge smile on his face.  I almost can guarantee it was the most positive baseball experience Emmett has had all spring.  And, to me, that's what it's all about.

Jude was still out with her friends when we got home and JP had gone to bed.  While Joe showered, I poured myself a bourbon and sat in my favorite red chair in the corner of my office, upstairs, and replayed the entire night and game in my mind.  Throwing with Emmett, giant pepper, Joe pitching, George and Emmett stealing bases and scoring, my in-game conversation with Emmett's father.  All of it.  

What an unexpected gift for me to receive . . . a chance to be the head coach for one of my sons and his teammates one more time.  I'm smiling, right now, Sunday evening, remembering it.  It was the best 8 - 2 loss I've ever been a part of.

Right before he went to bed, Joe walked into my office, smiling.  His hair was wet and standing straight up, which is the way he likes it.  Billy Idol 40 years later.  

Joe looked at me and said, "Dad, that was fun tonight, with you coaching."  

"It really was, wasn't it?" I replied.

He looked at me for a split second, smiling softly, and said, "I love you, Dad," then turned and walked out of my office and into his bedroom.  

"I love you, too, Joe." I said.  

Smiling to myself, I took a sip of my bourbon and enjoyed the end of one of the best nights of my life.

Joe in One Play

Joe has struggled a bit in baseball this spring.  He's the youngest on his team, at 11, and as I've mentioned, we've changed a few things, pitching and hitting, in an effort find more power.  He needs to throw the ball harder when he pitches and he needs to hit the ball harder, too.  It's a process to be sure.

His last two outings, Joe hasn't been able to find his control.  Earlier in this week, he walked five batters in one inning, allowed two hits, and gave up six runs.  We talked afterwards on the ride home - at Joe's request - and agreed his biggest problem on the mound is mental, not physical.  He's pressing and when he walks one batter, he immediately thinks he's headed for another bad outing.  In other words, his mental and emotional approach is lacking.  It's different, but good, for Joe to go through this because, normally, he has supreme confidence in almost anything he does athletically.

I told him his mantra when pitching, going forward, should be "this batter, this pitch."  Stay focused on each pitch, in other words.  Don't worry about what happened last game or with the last batter.  Don't worry about what might happen with the next two batters or next inning.  This batter, this pitch.  I often tell my pitchers to "win this pitch," which is kind of the same thing.

Yesterday morning, we played the Braves.  Good boys, good coaches, good parents.  Joe played all-stars with them last summer and may do so again this summer.  It's a good rivalry for Joe's team - the Nationals - and the teams are pretty evenly matched, as evidenced by yesterday's 6 - 6 final score.

One play, though, encapsulated everything about who Joe is as an athlete.  

Late in the game with one out, a baserunner for the Braves took off from second to steal third base.  Joe, playing third base, caught a good throw from Jack, at catcher, and got the tag down on the runner.  It was close but I felt like the runner was there.  The umpire called him safe.  Joe disagreed and I could tell he was pissed.  Really pissed.  I even made eye contact with him from my seat to the left of the backstop - our team was in the third base dugout - and mouthed he was safe.  Joe shook his head at me in disbelief, though, and I smiled to myself.  

The next batter for the Braves, Henry, absolutely smoked a line drive down the third base line on the first pitch he saw from Eli, our best pitcher.  Instinctively, Joe reacted, lunching to his right and backhanding the line drive at shoulder height before it could get past him into left field and drive in the runner on third base.  The runner, leading off, was caught flat footed because the ball was scorched so hard by Henry.

Joe immediately turned back to third base and emphatically stomped on the bag to complete a double play and end the inning.  For good measure, he spiked the baseball, then ran into the dugout a few steps away.  A bang-bang play.  First silence, then the crowd erupted in cheers, as most of us nodded out heads in acknowledgement of not just Joe's play but his priceless reaction afterwards.  Lindsay - Ram's mom - laughed and said she wished she had videoed the play.  I did, too.  

Joe's teammates clapped him on the back as they followed him into the dugout.  I loved that, of course.  I loved it more when the boys rallied to tie the game during their next at bat.  

Sunday morning, over coffee at Dose, I'm still marveling at the play.  Great reaction to the ball at third base, although that's not Joe's normal position.  Smart, heads up play to double the runner off third.  Last but certainly not least, an intense, fired up reaction from Joe, which was the best.  

After the game, he said he was trying to give the team a spark.  Of course he was.

Because he's Joe.

My sister, Tracy, Joe, and my goddaughter, Kaitlyn, after yesterday morning's baseball game.