Joe's First Race

This afternoon, at USN's River Campus, Joe runs his first cross country race.  He's been looking forward to this day for a while.  

The other night, after dinner, he asked me, earnestly, if I could talk to him about the race.  He wanted to know if I had any tips for him.  At poignant moments like that, sometimes I feel like my heart is going to shatter into a million tiny pieces.  The purity - the perfectness - of that moment astounds me.  It's a memory - a snapshot moment - I will cherish.  

The only thing I told him was to think about running negative splits, running the second half of the 1 1/2 miles race faster than the first.  "It's your race," I said.  "Your chance to learn.  I don't want to get in the way of that opportunity."  Continuing, I said, "Let's talk after the race."  

With JP, I've always let him run his race.  He doesn't need me putting any more pressure on him that he already is putting on himself.  I don't want to add to the emotions he feels before a race and at the starting line.  I feel the same way about Joe.  We'll see how the race goes, then debrief afterwards.

One tough thing for Joe, though, is that he's not only running against his teammates and kids from other schools.  He's running against JP - or his memory of JP - as a 5th grader.  I've reminded him several times that JP was not the runner in 5th grade that he is now.  JP never won a cross country race in 5th grade.  Never came close to it, actually.  Joe is listening to me but I'm not sure he hears me.  

I'm excited for Joe to begin this next chapter in his athletic life.  To do something completely new.  Run a cross country race.  

I'm going to skip out of a mediation early, leaving Andrea in charge, and hustle over to University School, much like I did with JP when he was in 5th grade and at the beginning of his journey as a runner.  Joe's there now and I'm going to be there to see him off.

I'm already nervous but that's what happens to me at cross country races.  Every time.

 

Fall Baseball Practice

As I did with JP's Dodgers, Joe's Dodgers are practicing twice a week during the fall season.  Not everyone can make the Tuesday night practice due to conflicts with other sports and the fact that it runs late, 7:30 pm - 9:00 pm.  The ones that make it on Tuesday nights, though, are the ones that really love baseball.

That was the case last night, when I had Joe, Ram, Troy, Nico, Bennett, Huck, and Henry.  Five of my original guys and two of my other, more recent favorites.  I'd like to think that my love of baseball and my style of coaching has something to do with the fact that these boys I've coaching seemingly forever - since they were five years old - are making the effort to get a late practice in on a mid-week, late August night.

The suffocating August heat finally has broken, perhaps because we're about to turn the page on August and begin September.  It felt like fall was, maybe, in sight at last.  

As I told the dads who were helping me - Ben (Huck) and Brad (Bennett) - there is nothing better, to me, than a mid-week fall baseball practice, under the lights, with 11 year old boys who love baseball.  There is such an innocence about the boys that's ephemeral.  I could sense it last night, as the boys threw to each other to get warmed up, then sat on one knee around me as we discussed how the season has gone so far.  I love holding court with the boys, talking with them, and answering their questions.

The boys long tossed for arm strength and worked with a couple of them, individually, on throwing with their shoulder and not their elbow.  We took some infield and, afterward, had time for two rounds of batting practice.  One longer one, then one shorter one.  One of the advantages of having fewer boys at practice - seven last night - is it's easier to get more work done.

When we finished right at 9:00 p.m., I gathered the boys around me.  Sitting on my bucket of balls, I told them how much I loved practicing baseball with them.  I told them I'd had a bad end to my day at work and that it really lifted my spirits to spend time with them on the baseball field.  I thanked them for giving me the opportunity to catch them.  

For an old baseball coach like me, it was a perfect fall night.  A perfect fall baseball night.

Dodgers (Game 2)

Drama, drama, and more drama.  For me, anyway, as the Dodgers played the Diamondbacks on a recent Sunday afternoon.  

I tired of thinking about it.  I'm tired of writing about it.  Oliver irreparably damaged our friendship with the way he handled the decision to move the Diamondbacks down to the 9 - 10 year old league last spring - telling me a week or so before the season started - and leaving me scrambling to find a team for Joe and several of my original Dodgers to play on.  No notice.  No time.  I've never had a friend treat me, and my son, that way.  Never.    

At a tense meeting I insisted on at the time, Oliver halfheartedly apologized, told me that he knew he'd let me down and lost my trust, and asked me to give him a chance to earn my trust again.  He never did anything he suggested he would do.  I was disappointed, and still am, but not surprised.  As I learned the hard way, that's Oliver.

The Dodgers lost the game 8 - 7 in a game that really wasn't that close.  The league's silly five run per inning maximum prevented the Diamondbacks from really putting it on us in an inning when we struggled.  Coach Q was able to come to the game, so I wanted Daniel to start and get a chance to warm up with Q.  That way, I knew Daniel would get a good 45 minutes with Coach Q.  It was more important to me to give Daniel a chance to get some real work in with Q than to try to put it on the D-Backs.

Daniel pitched really well for two innings, though he struggled a bit with his control.  I was really, really proud of him.  Coach Q did a great job with him and with out catcher, Trey, as well.  He fit right into our coaching staff and before I knew it, Q was telling Trey where to set up and what pitches to call for from Daniel.  

Daniel is a kid who is one of my projects this fall.  He's a great catcher but he struggles with his emotions and has a tendency to get down on himself when things aren't going well.  Bad body language, etc.  That said, he has as much ability as any 11 year old I've ever coached.  The physical tools are all there.  He can be versatile, too, which is why I don't want to limit him to catching this fall.  He's slim, fast, with a great arm and very quick bat.  In the team I have with him, I want to unlock what I see and build his confidence.  

Keaton relieved Daniel with the bases loaded - another tough spot for me to put a pitcher in - and struggled with his control.  I should have pulled Daniel after two innings and let Keaton start the third inning.  I'm rusty and I would grade my in-game decisions on pitching changes at a C - for the first weekend.  Maybe lower, actually.

Oliver's son, Preston, whom I love, struggled when he came in to pitch as well.  Control issues and Bennett had a run scoring hit off him.  A line drive into center field, which was huge for Bennett's confidence.  That was the inning we took a one run lead, 7 - 6.  It wasn't a game we deserved to win, although only Leo on the Diamondbacks had a decent hit.  The rest of their runs were because of walks, passed balls, and dropped third strikes when I had Huck catching.  Sims pitched very well for the Diamondbacks, though, and that made a difference, too.  I complimented him after the game.  

Had a I played the best players in their natural positions and lined up our pitching differently, the Dodgers would have won the game.  That's not what it's about, though.  I want to help these boys develop the ability to play different positions, to get outside their comfort zone, and to become more versatile baseball players.  That's the goal.  And, of course, I want them to continue to grow in their love for the game and to want to play again next spring.

As a side note, I talked to all of the players I'd coached for more than two years with the D-Backs before and during the game.  Oliver didn't talk to Joe or any of our players, or interact with them at all - the ones I brought to the Diamondbacks and that he coached.  More than one of our parents told me they were disappointed that Oliver acted, in essence, like he'd never met our boys.  Like we were just another team. It was telling, for sure, but not particularly surprising to me or to the parents of the boys he ignored.  

It's pretty disappointing when my son tells me that a man who had been one of his coaches for more than two years - someone whose son had been over to our house on several occasions - ignores him during and after a baseball game against his team.  Weak.

Time to enjoy the rest of the fall baseball season.   

Dodgers vs. Lions (Game 1)

Joe's Dodgers played their fall season opener against the Lions on Saturday afternoon.  It felt like a parochial league game, as our team has several boys who go to school and church at St. Henry's (and Joe goes to church at St. Patrick) and most, if not all, of the Lions' players go to school and church at St. Matthews.  

In the first inning, Joe made the play of this or any other season at shortstop, when he dove to his left for a sharply hit ground ball, then threw out the runner at first by a half step from a seated position.  It was one of those plays where there's stunned silence, immediately followed by loud cheering and applause from fans of both teams.  After the play, as Joe and his teammates celebrated, I turned to JP - who is helping me coach the boys - and we shared a look of disbelief, started laughing, and high fived each other. 

It's funny but Joe has a knack for making "highlight reel" plays like that, often times in key moments. 

• His game ending catch at shortstop early on for the Diamondbacks, with Preston on the mound, when he dove into short left field and snared what looked like a sure base hit.
• His "deke play" in the spring end of season tournament a couple of seasons ago for the Diamondbacks, where he faked a throw from shortstop then turned Keaton (Braves) out when he started to run to third, ending the inning and got the D-backs a final at bat.  They won that one when William hit the shot heard 'round the (WNSL) world - a triple down the right field line as a thunderstorm rolled in.
• His nonchalant over the shoulder catch in left field for the Nationals last spring against the Reds' best hitter was amazing, particularly since he never plays outside.  That play, of course, immediately followed him catching fly ball and nearly throwing the runner who tagged up at third base out at home.  
• Also last spring, his diving catch of a line drive down the third base line and stomp on third base for an inning ending double play was huge, particularly when he stared down the umpire whom he thought and missed a call earlier in the inning.

Joe's a big moment guy, I think.

Bennett pitched great on Saturday but I made a huge mistake by trying to squeeze an extra inning out of him.  I'm rusty, I guess, as a head coach, because my normal move it to take a pitcher out an inning early when he's pitched well to build his confidence.  Also, it's easier for a new pitcher to start an inning rather than coming in to put out a fire in the middle of an inning.  Greed kills a baseball coach every time.

I brought Joe in to pitch in relief, in a tough spot, with bases loaded.  He didn't have it.  He hit two batters, walked two others, and just couldn't get settled in at all.  Ram replaced him and pitched well for the most part.  Joe doesn't have JP's control, at least not yet.  JP always had the ability to enter a game in any situation and throw strikes.  For Joe, at least lately, his control comes and goes.  

The Dodgers entered the bottom of the last inning down by two runs, with 11, 12, and 1 coming to bat.  George, batting last, smoked a two strike single to center field.  He's the fastest man alive, so he promptly stole second base (the pitcher was in the windup, not the stretch), third base, then scored on a single by Keaton.  

Keaton stole second and third base.  Joe hit a two strike ground ball to the pitcher with one out and Keaton scored.  Quietest walk off ground out in history.

It was interesting to be on the field, again, as the head coach.  I haven't done that since JP's Dodgers' last season in WNSL's Prep League, which I guess was in the fall of 2021.  It's a different feeling, for sure, to be the head coach, as opposed to an assistant coach.  As an assistant coach, it's all of the fun and none of the responsibility.  That's the way it was for me with the D-backs, for sure.  

As head coach, there's just more to worry about.  Lineups, in game decisions, who sits and who plays where, addressing the team before and after games, assistant coaches' egos, etc.  It's a lot and it's not easy but to me, that part of what makes it so satisfying.  It's hard and not everyone can do it and provide an enriching experience for the boys and, really, the parents, too.  Not many men want that responsibility.  

One thing I quickly realized, though, is that after the game on Saturday, I seemed to feel more drained and spent than after games when I coached JP's Dodgers.  That's probably not true, though, as I recall sitting by myself at Edley's after big games, or doubleheaders, and having an afternoon Miller Lite beer or two just to wind down.  I'm 57 now, not 47, so my energy level is different but I'm also out of practice, too.

If this fall season is the end - and I think it is - I'm going to enjoy every freaking minute of it.  

Coach Phil's Last Ride

Coaching youth baseball has been one of the greatest joys of my life for more than a decade.  It's been a blessing to share my love of baseball with JP and Joe - and so many of their friends - for so many seasons, fall and spring, for so many years.  The teams, the seasons, and the games blend together in my memory to form one long, happy movie that I watch again and again in my mind.  

I was completely out of coaching baseball last spring for reasons I've alluded to in this space before.  A friendship or two was ruptured beyond repair due to circumstances beyond my control. It was tough and I missed it, especially being on the fields with boys I had coached for three years.  It was difficult, too, to watch from the outside as others coached Joe, and a few of my original Dodgers.  I spent a lot of time at the dugout offering encouragement to all of the boys, not just Joe, when they struggled.  It wasn't the same, though, as being on the field. 

That's where I belong.  On the baseball field, coaching.  And that's where I am this fall for what looks to be my last ride as Coach Phil.  My coaches are different, of course, but they're good men that love their boys and are willing to spend time in their development as baseball players.  I'll be running things, which I had missed in the three years Joe played for the D-Backs, and when he played in all-stars with the Braves.

I have my original Junior Dodgers - Trey, George, Bennett, Ram, Nico, and Joe - which seems fitting if this is the end of the line for me as a baseball coach.  Those boys were with me when they were four and five years old in the Wookie (coach pitch) league and now, seven years later, they're with me again.  It's the perfect bookend, really, to more than a decade of coaching JP's and Joe's baseball teams.  

I also picked up a few of the Braves.  Good boys, a few of whom are promising athletes.  Joe knows them from having played all-stars with them the last two summers.  It's a Dodgers-Braves combo team but because I am the had coach and it's my last ride, we're called the Dodgers.  No longer the Junior Dodgers. The Dodgers.  Old school.

The fall season is somewhat abbreviated.  It's always a busy season, too, because so many of the boys play tackle football (St. Henry's), flag football, or soccer.  One of my original Junior Dodgers is playing travel baseball, too, so he'll have a few scheduling conflicts. 

The late summer weather has been crazy.  I've never seen so much rain in August.  The downside is that we have had multiple practices rained out.  Our first and only real practice before games start Saturday was Tuesday night, earlier this week.  Attendance was spotty - seven boys - due to scheduling conflicts, including the USN middle school play.  Yes, my guys are well rounded.

Still, I had Joe, Mikey (whom I drove to practice), Emmett (recovering from a broken arm he go skateboarding), Huck, Bennett, Trey, and Henry (Chauncey).  

7:30 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. is not an ideal school night practice slot but I really wanted the boys to have two practice per week.  We practice on Sunday afternoons, too.  And, for me, even after a long day of work, being out on the baseball field - field #2 - with the boys under the lights is the best.  

I'm so glad Henry is playing.  I don't know him well, although Joe has played for him on the Braves' all-star team the last two summers.  He goes to school at St. Henry's with several of our other players.  He's chunky, although he'll probably grow out of that, and wears pretty thick glasses.  He's on the quiet side but I'm going to work on that this season.  I can sense a warm, funny personality behind the glasses and shyness.  He's surprisingly strong and swings a heavy bat.  From two summer ago to this past summer, he really improved as a hitter.  

Henry is my kind of kid, a bit of an underdog.  I think he's been overlooked a bit by his baseball coaches because he's quiet and doesn't look like a traditional athlete or, maybe, baseball player.  But it's in there.  I know it.  My job this fall is to find it.  I want to give him confidence and a belief in himself that I'm not sure he has, because he can take that with him from the baseball field, to school, and to life.  

That's one of the things I love the most about coaching.  Every boy is a riddle and I get to figure out the answer.  How do I reach him?  What can I give to him to help his reach his full potential?  How can I help him develop confidence that he can use to sustain him long after baseball is over?  

Huck was absolutely ripping the ball at practice.  He's one of the most enthusiastic boys I've ever coached, like a puppy that's suddenly grown big and doesn't know his own strength.  Huck's voice has changed and he's gotten stronger.  His throwing is a work in progress, still.  But he has a chance to be special as a hitter.  Batting from the left side, he was hitting the ball with power to all fields Tuesday night as I pitched batting practice.  It was a sight to see.  

Joe started hitting - for the first time - with JP's old Axe bat.  He was hitting the ball well, too.  I'd love for him to start hitting with power this fall.  We'll see.

I want to savor every minute I'm on the field with the boys - the Dodgers - this fall because this appears to be the end of the line for me as a baseball coach.  In all likelihood, Joe will play for someone else this spring and beyond.  

Damn, I'll miss this.  

Joe, Katie Roth, Nico, and JP after an impromptu baseball workout at Rose Park early Saturday morning.  A day to remember, for sure.

  

Summer's End

And just like that, Summer is over.  

I left the house at 5:45 a.m. this morning to drive JP to MBA, so he could have breakfast and get on a bus for the long ride to the Ocoee River.  He and his 9th grade classmates are white water rafting on the Ocoee River today, retuning this evening.  

Although he doesn't start school until Wednesday, JP was on campus quite a bit the end of last week.  Registration.  Photos for his school identification card.  Social Awareness Day.  And, of course, cross country practice.

JP in high school.  Crazy.

Just as crazy, though, is the fact that Joe starts middle school at USN today.  5th grade.  Travel group.  Moving from classroom to classroom.  Advisory group.  No recess, per se, which somehow makes me feel the most sad and nostalgic.  I'll miss asking him in the evenings about his exploits on the football and soccer fields at recess.  Hearing Joe excitedly recount throwing a last minute touchdown to win that day's football game was a highlight of my day for the last few years.  

Those stories are gone, now, and likely to never return as Joe moves into a different phase of his academic life.  A more serious phase, in a way.  More studying, less fooling around at school with his friends.  That's the end of the innocence for him that I've been thinking about this summer.  

Time is elusive.  Hard to find and so very hard to hold onto.  The harder you squeeze it or try to hold it in your hands, the faster it seems to pass one by.  The boys grow and change, every day, and it become harder and harder to remember them as they once were.  That makes me sad and nostalgic, too.

As JP and I drove in the dark to MBA this morning, I played one of my favorite Avett Brothers' songs.  Left on Laura, Left on Lisa or, as JP used to call it when he first heard it and fell in love with it age 3, "The Sad Song."  He smiled when it started playing - my 15 year old son - and looked at the display on the dashboard of my truck.  

"I couldn't remember what this song was called," he said.  

"You used to call it the sad song," I replied.  "When you were little and I played it for you."

"That's right," he said, chuckling to himself.  "The sad song."

What JP doesn't know, or doesn't remember, is that Left on Laura, Left on Lisa was the first song he and fell in love with together.  We used to drive around the neighborhood in my old Yukon Denali and listen to that song over and over again.  I can remember the far-off look in his face, sitting in the carseat directly behind me at age 3, when I played it for the first time.

"Play that song again, Daddy."  

And I did.  And I will.  For the rest of my life.

Goodbye summer.  Goodbye youth. 

Guytown and Joe the Runner

Jude was in Washington D.C. for work last week, which meant JP, Joe, and I spent three nights in "Guytown."  That's long been our name for, well, our lifestyle, when Jude is out of town.  

Fortunately, I had a light week at work with not much on my calendar.  It's a strange feeling when that happens because as a rule, my calendar is packed and I rarely have time to stop and take a breath.  I try to enjoy the lighter weeks when I have them, though, because I know they're few and far between.

One of the highlights of our visit to "Guytown" was watching John Wick with the boys.  That alone qualifies me as father-of-the-year.  I also grilled pork tenderloin on our new grill while JP made baked potatoes in the oven.  Great meal.

I've always described time I have with the boys alone as "figure it out time," which I love.  And we had a lot to figure out, too.  Transportation for JP to cross country practice every morning and Joe to the drop-off for Camp Widjiwagen.  Pickups for Joe in the afternoon.  Dinner.  Squeeze in a run.  An on and on.  Again, I loved it.

But that's not what this post is about.

It's about Joe and how much I enjoy spending time with him.  

As I've written in this space, the sweet spot for a boy might be the summer of his 11th year.  At least with Joe, there's still an innocence and a naïveté about him that's so beautiful.  He doesn't have or even want a cell phone, so there's not Snapchat or Instagram to worry about.  He's not interested in girls, at least not yet, which simplifies things a lot, for him and us.  

His effervescent smile lifts my heart every time I see it.  His laugh makes me laugh instinctively.  His penchant for thanking me, or Jude, for the smallest, routine thing - not in an Eddie Haskell way, mind you, but with a genuineness of heart - is touching.  

He loves to read, books and my old comic books.  Seeing him read and reread my old Marvel comic books - the one my mom bought for me almost 50 years ago at Hot Stop Market or Super Drive in Market, both on Moores lane - makes me very happy.  In a strange way, it makes me feel closer to her, too.  I can't help but think that somewhere she is smiling down on Joe as he reads comic books she bought for me so long ago.  I think that would make her happy.

He loves the WWE and the Marvel Universe.  When I asked him over the weekend which one he liked better, he told me it was a tie. 

Joe and I have been working our way through the Marvel Universe movies.  Some we watch with JP and Jude but some he and I watch together.  Most recently, we watched the first Thor movie, which really was quite good.  All of us enjoyed the first Captain America movie.  That one may have been our favorite so far.  Good time.

Saturday night, JP, Joe, and I watched WWE's Summer Slam.  JP rolled his eyes quite a bit but Joe was transfixed by every match.  Sunday morning, when he got up, Joe was still trying to process why Jimmy Uso betrayed Jey Uso in the main event, right at the moment when Jey was about to dethrone his cousin, the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns.  

On top of all of that, though, Joe as expressed a real interest in running with me this summer and lately.  

Saturday afternoon, he saw me stretching and asked, "Are you going for a run, Dad?"  "Yes," I replied.  "Can I come with you," he asked, smiling expectantly.  "Of course," I responded.

We planned on running two miles together but I took us on one of my oldest, established routes.  We ran through Belmont's campus, across 12th Avenue, and into the old neighborhood (including by our old house on Elliott Avenue).  I call it the 'Hood route.  

It quickly became apparent - to me, anyway - that we'd  be running three miles, rather than two.  Although it was hot and humid, he said he was up for it when I asked him if he wanted to run three miles as we made our way up 10th Avenue.  It was a tough, even grueling for him, but he gutted it out and we finished at the Twice Daily store on 12th Avenue, where I bought him a Gatorade.  

We walked home together, stopping to sit on the chairs next to Locust, around the corner from our house on Linden Avenue.  In many ways, that's the best part of running with one of the boys - the cool down walk afterwards, hanging out and talking about life.  That's the good stuff, you know?

As the summer draws to a close with JP and Joe starting school next week, I'm a bit melancholy.  Joe won't be 11 years old forever and the summer of his 11th year is nearly over.  Sooner than I want, the innocence that envelops his very being will began to fade, replaced by the realities of life as a teenager.  I want to hold on to these moments for as long as I can, though.