Saying Goodbye to Chandler Bing

Last night, as Jude, the boys, and I unwound after a day of baseball and basketball for Joe while we watched the Vols plays Kentucky in Lexington - in other words, a normal fall Saturday for our family - I got a text and a link to a Twitter post from Tracy in Gulf Shores, AL.  

"Damn.  Horrible."

When I clicked on the link, I saw that Matthew Perry, 54, was found dead in the jacuzzi at his home in Los Angeles.  

I moaned audibly, got up, and showed the Tweet to Jude.  She looked at it, shook her head, and sighed.  Just like that, a part of our youth disappeared altogether.

Matthew Perry was the one of the six start of Friends, a sitcom that ran one NBC from 1994 - 2004.  200 episodes in total.  The show was about a group of six friends in their mid-twenties, living in New York City, trying to figure out their lives in that awkward, exciting, memorable time in between college and getting married and having kids.  That's may take on it, anyway.

Friends was appointment viewing - Thursday nights - on television when that was still a thing.  Before streaming.  Before Netflix, Paramount +, Hulu, Amazon Prime, etc.  In many ways, Friends was the last gasp of network television as people my age remember it.

The stars of Friends became household names - David Schwimmer, Matthew LeBland, Lisa Kudrow, Jennifer Anniston, Courteney Cox, and Matthew Perry - and their comings and goings dominated the decade that spanned the late '90's - the first half of the '00's.  One of the things that made the show unique was that no one actor or actress starred.  Rather, the entire cast was the star and the show, for the most part, revolved around the friends' relationships with each other.

It's funny but I actually missed Friends the first time around.  When it debuted in 1994, I had recently graduated from law school and working at a law firm in Nashville.  I was 28 years old and the show should have been right in my wheelhouse but, for some reason, it didn't resonate with me.  Not then, anyway.  

Later, after Jude and got married, though, I started watching the reruns of Friends at night with her.  It was something that we did together, before we had children.  It was something we shared and bonded over.  She had watched and rewatched all of the episodes, so I often asked her questions about something that had happened before or after the episode we were watching, in bed, before we fell asleep each night.  

Our lives were different then - more innocent - because we didn't have children.  There was a comforting, predictable sameness to our nights.  Dinner, often I went for a night run, then Friends before we went to sleep.  Or, sometimes, I wandered into the bedroom as Jude was drifting off to sleep and watched part of an episode.  Either way, in the early years of our marriage that, now, has spanned more than two decades, Friends often seemed to playing in the background on an endless loop.  

Matthew Perry led a troubled life.  Jude and I often guessed which season an episode was from by his appearance.  If he was exceptionally skinny, it was probably one of the early seasons when he battled a drug addiction and was in and our of alcohol and drug rehabilitation.  In later year of the show, he was heavier but somehow seemed happier and more content.  

He wrote a reasonably well received memoir last year that covered, in great detail, his history of alcohol and drug abuse.  I don't know if alcohol or drugs had anything to do with his death.  I'm not sure it matters because it's still so very sad.  

As I told Jude last night, I don't think I'll ever watch an episode of Friends quite the same way.  The humor will be tinged with a sense of nostalgia and sadness for me.  It will be harder, I think, to laugh at the absurdity of some of the storylines or the jokes, without thinking of Matthew Perry's death.  

The cast of Friends - the six of them - always seems to enjoy each other's company during the show's run. That's part of what made it resonate with people of a certain age, I think.  It seemed like a group of friends that you would like to be a part of or, maybe, that you were a part of in a strange way.  

And now, the group of six friends has been reduced to five and the lives of the fans of Friends are a little bit emptier today.

 

Dodgers Forever

It makes me sad sometimes, for Joe and for me, that I wasn't able to put together a cohesive group of parents and boys so that the Junior Dodgers (a.k.a. Joe's Dodgers) could have the same extended run that JP's Dodgers had.  Some of my best, most memorable, days coaching JP's Dodgers were after the boys turned 10 and 11, when they really began to learn the game of baseball and experience success.  

My original group of Junior Dodgers had multiple brothers of boys on the Dodgers, which meant I was dealing with parents I knew and, hopefully, dads who could help me coach over the long haul, much as Chris, Randy, Will, and Tony did with JP's Dodgers.  It wasn't to be, though, as a few of the little brothers weren't as into baseball as the big brothers and the dads weren't interested in committing the time and energy necessary to build and sustain the group.  A few of the younger boys quit baseball early on or drifted away to other leagues.

What I learned, though, is that you can't replicate in a Petri dish something that formed organically and grew on its own into a living, breathing entity.  It took me a while to realize that but there it is.

I also learned that with JP's Dodgers, I was fortunate enough to catch lightning in a bottle.  The right families, the right boys, the right coaches.  It all just fit, organically (there's that word again), and it was a beautiful thing while it lasted.  It's still a beautiful thing in my memory.

Last weekend, JP was playing in a tournament for HBC's 15U team at Shelby Park at the same time Wes and Benton were playing for HBC's 16U team, also at Shelby Park.  Later, JK arrived with his dad, Randy, as he was playing for a different travel team (the Redbirds).  The fields were side-by-side and on a beautiful fall morning, I walked back and forth between games, talking to Chris, Will (and Eileen), and Randy.  

We reminisced about days gone by and Dodgers' games played in the distant past.  It was special.  Wes hit a walkoff home run over the left field fence to win his game - a shot that probably traveled 340' - and I smiled with pride and joy as Chris told me the story after the game, holding the home run ball in his hands.  

Wes was the first Dodgers' player to hit a home run, year ago, in Donelson, on the 11U all-star team that won the Cal Ripken State Championship.  We lost that game in Donelson to older boys, 12 - 1, but our players were ecstatic about the home run Wes hit to deep center field.  

The point of this post, though, is how much I've enjoyed coaching Joe this fall.  It's different being the head coach compared to being an assistant coach.  Different for me and different for Joe.  I coasted a bit though the years Joe played for Oliver Davis and the D-backs.  Although I was an assistant coach and ran things in game when Oliver was absent, it's different being the head coach.  I missed it.  Those were fun days, to be sure, and it was a close knit group of families in the early days.  Still, I missed two years of running my own team.

As Joe and I drove to Gallatin for his HBC game after the Dodgers' finale last Saturday afternoon, we listened to music as we often do when we're driving together.  We share a love for music.  Always have.  We talked about the game and the Dodgers' win but for the most part, we rode in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company and our time together on a busy sports Saturday.

At one point, Joe reached up and paused the music, which was unusual.  I looked at him curiously.  He took a second then looked over at me from them passenger seat with tears in his eyes.  Tears of happiness and a little sadness but mostly nostalgia, I think.

"Thanks for coaching me this fall, Dad," he said.  His voice broke a little as he continued.  "This fall has been my favorite season playing baseball."  

I smiled.  "Why is that?"

"Just the team, all of the guys from the Dodgers, the Braves, and D-backs.  It's such a great group and we've had so much fun.  Mostly, it's because you were my head coach again."

If I could have stopped time, I would have.  That moment.  That conversation with Joe.  It meant everything to me. 

It very well might have been my favorite season coaching baseball. 

Dodgers Forever.

Dodgers Forever

Saturday afternoon, smack in the middle of a crazy busy sports weekend, Joe's Dodgers took the field at Warner Park for a 2:15 p.m. game against the D-backs.  Through an unusual and, in some ways, unfortunate set of circumstances, the D-backs have become what the Dirtbags were to JP's Dodgers.  Rivals to be sure but not always of the friendly variety especially as it relates to the head coaches.

The D-backs didn't put their best of what Oliver Davis has turned into an Ensworth all-star team on the field, which was disappointing.  Simms, their best pitcher, was hurt and watched from the dugout.  Oliver's son,  Preston, was gone, too, probably at soccer.  Henry Stout - one of my all-time favorites to coach - was gone, too.  I think there was a bit of a let down for Joe's Dodgers when they realized most of their former teammates would not be playing.

The game was sloppy and disjointed.  Neither team fielded well.  Neither team hit well.  There were lots of mental errors.  The best player on the field, by far, was the D-backs catcher, Henry Singleton.  He was 2 - 3 with a booming double to the left field fence in his first at bat.  He was outstanding defensively, blocking ball after ball that his pitchers threw in the dirt.  

I want to say a little more about Henry because he deserves it.  Other than Porter Weeks, I don't think I have ever coached a boy who struggled so much, early, but worked his ass off to become a solid, if not spectacular, baseball player.  Henry made himself into an excellent defensive catcher - in Matthew Moore's category at the same age, maybe even with Matthew - through hard work, repetitions, and sheer desire and determination.  

Much like with Benton Wright on JP's Dodgers, Henry's bat is catching up to defensive ability.  He struggles for years to hit the ball with power but his hard work in the cage has paid off, as it almost always does.  Now, he makes solid contact and hits with power.  It's great to see.

Also, other than my boys, I'm not sure I've ever enjoyed coaching a boy more than I enjoyed coaching Henry Singleton during out time with the D-backs.  Polite, earnest, hard working.  On top of that, he plays piano, acts, and is a good student at David Lipscomb.  The total package, in much the same way Ram Chitale is on Joe's Dodgers.  I see big things ahead for Henry Singleton in the future.  He's a credit to his parents, for sure, and this dad, Matt, is one of the best men with whom I've coached.  Matt would have fit right in with Chris, Will, Tony, and Randy - my assistant coaches with JP's Dodgers for so many years - and that's high praise.

In the bottom of the last inning, the Dodgers led by five runs.  Because of the ridiculous five run max per inning WNSL rule, the best the D-backs could do was tie the game.  I left Keaton in to finish it, telling him all he needed to do was throw strikes.  Of course, he walked the first batter on four pitches then, after a mound visit by me, hit the next batter on the first pitch.  Two runners on, no outs. 

Joe was my "in case of emergency, break glass" pitcher.  It was an emergency, so I brought in Joe to close it out.  It was a big moment for him, and me, because Joe's not always been as poised or had the pinpoint control on the mound that JP had at the same age.  Still, we weren't going to tie the D-backs, and I wanted Joe to have an opportunity to step up.  

And, in the end, that's exactly what he did, but not before he foolishly tried to pick a runner off second with two strikes on the batter and threw the ball into centerfield, allowing two runs to score.  Then, he struck a batter out only to have out catcher, Daniel, throw the ball into right field after dropping a third strike.

The bottom line, though, is Joe worked out of a jam.  With runners on second and third, up by two, Joe struck out a batter for the second out.  He got ahead of Henry Singleton - who up to that point was 2 - 2 - the sawed his bat off and got a softly hit ground ball to second base.  John Spencer fielded the ball like a champ and threw out Henry at first base.  

Game over.  12 - 10 win for the Dodgers.  

The biggest thing for Joe, though, was that when everything seemed to be unraveling around him, he kept his poise, reset and really, really focused.  Suddenly, with the game on the line, Joe's velocity increased significantly and his control was outstanding.  He dialed in and threw strike after strike.  The D-backs hitters were overmatched, with the only hit Leo's slow roller to shortstop.  I was really, really proud of Joe.

When he gets angry - on the basketball court, the soccer pitch, or the baseball field - his intensity level rises and he take his game to another level.  As I told him after the game on the ride to another baseball game in Gallatin with HBC, he's got to find a way to access that anger, that intensity, every time he competes athletically.  That's the missing piece for him, I think.  It's in there.  He's just got to find a way to get to it regularly.

In the handshake line after the game, I congratulated all of the D-backs players, particularly the one whom I coached and had been bantering with throughout the game.  Leo, Parkes, Saltzman, Henry Singleton.  Oliver Davis didn't acknowledge any of the Dodgers he coached for two years other than to tell them "good game" in the handshake line like they were players on another team he had never met before.  I wasn't surprised.

As Oliver and I approached each other in the handshake line, we fist bumped and without looking me in the eye, Oliver said, "good game, coach." 

It wasn't a particularly good game but I'm happy that Joe's Dodgers got the win in the season finale.

If this is the end of the line for the Dodgers - and I have every reason to believe it is - what a great way to go out.  Joe on the mound, closing out the win against the D-backs, with our players celebrating after the last out.

Dodgers forever.

 

The Beast Roars

Tuesday, JP and the MBA varsity cross country team ran in the Metro (Nashville) Championship at Vaughn's Gap in Percy Warner Park.  If MBA has a home course, that's it, as the team practices there in the summer and most of the middle school two mile races are there.   

The day of the race I was scheduled to be in the second day of a complicated three day mediation.  Fortunately, the attorneys for the parties are friends of mine and agreed to end mediation for the day at 3:45 p.m. so I could get to the race.  I rushed out of the office about 3:50 p.m. and beat feet to get to Percy Warner Park in time for the varsity race at 5:30 p.m.  Traffic and parking weren't a problem, thankfully, and I arrived in time to fist bump JP as he was warming up, just after the junior varsity boys' race and before the varsity girls' race.

I mingled a bit before the race, checking in briefly with JP's coaches and amiably chatting with a few friends or parents of JP's teammates.  As start time approached, I removed myself from the crowd as I typically do at races, too nervous and intense to carry on a conversation with anyone else.  In that moment, I don't have the patience for exchanging niceties and pleasantries with others.  It's crazy and weird but I just don't.

Brentwood Academy's team was at the race.  They're strong, so I knew it would be a tight team race, and it was.  BA grabbed the first two spots, followed by an Ensworth runner.  MBA grabbed fourth, fifth, sixth (JP), eighth, and tenth.  Overall, the Big Red edges Brentwood Academy by three points to take home the first place trophy for the 2023 Metro Nashville Cross Country Championship.

JP finished in sixth place overall (16:10:13) and was the third MBA runner.  In his group of runners, which included his teammates, Mitchell and Gabe, there was some jostling during the race with a BA runner.  I was proud of him for for the way he ran but I was prouder of him for finding one of the BA runners he ran against, and beat, after the finish to tell him he ran a good race.  In my view, that was a leadership move and something a sportsman would do.  I loved it.

The leadership the seniors and co-captains on the MBA team - Samuel and Mitchell - have provided has been invaluable, especially to JP and Gabe, both of whom are freshman.  There is no chance the team could have had the success it's had thus far without Samuel and Mitchell setting the tone for them.  JP admires and respects both of them tremendously.  They have treated him - and Gabe, I think - like peers and teammates, not freshmen, and that has meant everything.  

It's a close knit and special group of boys that comprise the varsity cross country team at MBA.  I'm proud - very proud - for JP to be a part of the team.  I'm also a bit sad that the season is winding down.  

The Last Practice for the Dodgers

Last night, with temperature dipping into the high 40's, Joe's Dodgers has their last practice of the fall season on field #2 at Warner Park.  In all likelihood, it's my last practice as a head baseball coach for one of my boys' teams.  

Damn, it hurts me deeply to write that last sentence.  

The WNSL Dodgers (or Junior Dodgers in Joe's early years) have sustained me for more than a decade.  Though times of stress at work and great sadness in my personal life - particularly as my mom fought and lost her battle with Alzheimer's disease - coaching the Dodgers in practices and games has provided me with an oasis where I could escape from the rigors of everyday life, if just for an hour or two. 

I've loved every damn minute of it, too.  And now it's over, save for a game on Saturday afternoon against the D-backs.

Joe's group of Dodgers this fall has been more than I ever could have asked for in my final season as a head baseball coach.  The players - Trey, Bennett, Nico, Daniel, Keaton, Henry, George, Ram, Big Mike, John, Huck, and Joe - have given me everything they had whenever we've taken the field for practice or games.  Effort.  Hustle.  Attitude.  Enthusiasm.  Gratitude.  

And love.  Love for each other.  Love for baseball.  Love for me, their coach.  

I'm grateful that Scott McRae and Mark Erdman allowed their boys, Daniel and Keaton, to play fall baseball for me - which they hadn't done in the past due to conflicts with football.  I though it would benefit both boys to be coached by someone other than their fathers, just as Joe has benefitted from being coached by Scott and Mark in all-stars the last two summers.  

I'm grateful that Henry played fall baseball for me.  I wanted him to play badly because in the spring and all-star seasons, I saw something in him that I felt like others didn't see.  A desire to get better.  The ability to swing a heavy bat and to listen and be coached.  I've loved getting to know Henry.

I'm grateful I got a chance to work with Daniel, John, and Huck on managing their emotions.  All three boys are talented but face challenges in maintaining a sense of equilibrium when playing baseball and, I suspect, other sports.  I love the emotional boys because I know they care.  They're competitive and they want to succeed.  I'll always choose an emotional player over an apathetic player because there's a desire - a "want to" - that drive the emotions.  

I'm grateful Bennett and Huck left Oliver's team to play for me.  Both sets of parents made the decision on their own and approach me first.  I knew I could deliver a better, more positive baseball experience for them and I did, for a variety of reasons.  Bennett originally was a Junior Dodger, so he was returning to the fold.  I had coached Huck with the D-backs and I've always loved his unbridled affection and enthusiasm.  Both boys needed to be "seen" and supported and with Coach Mike's help, they were.  

I'm grateful that I was able to coach Trey, Nico, George, Ram, and Bennett for a final season.  My original Junior Dodgers.  I've seen them grow up, much like I saw Porter, Wes, Benton, and J.K. grow up when I coached JP's Dodgers.  What a privilege to coach such bright, kind, earnest, baseball-loving boys from age 4 or 5 to age 11.  I love those boys like they're mine.   

I'm grateful I got to coach Mikey - no, "Big Mike," and to coach with his father, Mike Lalonde.  Bringing Mikey in to pitch and watching him mow down three batters throwing as hard as I've ever seen an 11 year old throw in a game stands out as one of the highlights of my coaching career.  That was the night I started calling him "Big Mike" and it caught on with the rest of the team.  Coach Mike was so proud of him, rightfully so.  

Most of all, I'm grateful that I was blessed with one last season of coaching Joe.  Without fail, he thanked me after every practice and every game and that meant the world to me.  Spending Tuesday nights and Sunday afternoons with him on the practice field was a gift I will treasure for my lifetime.  Watching him play baseball this fall - from my vantage point on the field - is an experience I will never forget.  It's been everything, really, made more memorable with the knowledge that it was my last season as his coach.  

I've always liked fall baseball, in some ways, more than spring baseball.  More developmental, less pressure.  No dealing with the bullshit politics that surround all-stars.  Just teaching, coaching and mentoring.  Just baseball, plain and simple.  

Last night, with the 9 players we had, we scrimmaged, 5 on 4.  The boys were so competitive.  There were a few tears.  There was a lot of yelling and cheering.  The boys named the opposing team, so we had the "Ugly Barbie Dolls" vs. the "Buttheads."  (I nixed Bennett's proposed name of the "Autistic Barbie Dolls" for obvious reasons, although I stifled a smile when he suggested it.).  I pitched, the boys played in the infield, and the dads (Ben, Brad, and Mike) played in the outfield.  The final score was 13 - 11.  

Great game.  Great practice.  Great fall season.

After practice was over and everyone had left, Joe and I put our hands together on the red light switch down the right field line, pulled it downward, and shut off the lights on field #2 . . . for the last time.  I put my arm around him as we walked across the baseball field to my truck, and drove home.

I think I left part of my broken heart right between the pitcher's mound and third base.  

Fall Break on the Mountain

Thanks to the generosity of a former client who has become a friend, we spent Fall Break in Monteagle.  Jude and the boys drove up midday on Thursday.  I finished a two day mediation early Thursday evening, so stayed at home that night and drove up on Friday.  I've been burning the candle at both ends at work for the past six weeks, so I was anxious to get away, even it was for a long weekend.

My friend's house is comfortably ensconced on Lake Louise in the Cooley's Rift development.  Cooley's Rift is similar to Clifftops, though newer and with fewer houses.  There are quite a few lots for sale there, some with bluff views.  Also, the boys and I saw several houses under construction when we drove around the development Saturday afternoon.

David's house was a recent build and very nice.  Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, with a view of the lake  on three sides.  

Whenever we're on the Mountain, we relax in an active kind of way.  Jude and the boys played golf on Thursday afternoon.  JP went on long runs on the Mountain Goat Trail and on Sewanee's campus.  He ran into a classmate from MBA - a tennis player - and they played tennis together Friday afternoon.  P, Joe, and I got a workout in on Sewanee's baseball field and in the batting cage on Saturday morning.  Joe and I went for a run on Saturday afternoon before all of watched the Tennessee - Texas A&M game (a 20 - 13 victory for the Vols).  Jude hiked Morgan's Steep, also on Saturday afternoon.

We hit all of our favorite spots for meals.  The Blue Chair for breakfast.  Papa Ron's for dinner.  We had dinner at Shenanigan's Saturday night, where we played Hearts while we waited for our order, as is our family tradition.  We got lunch from the Mountain Goat Market on Saturday afternoon, which was packed.  That was nice to see because there was a time during and after the pandemic when the Mountain Goat Market was open odd hours, understaffed, and in danger of closing.  

I finished a great book I've been reading - Wild Idea - a biography of Doug Tompkins written by Jonathan Franklin.  Doug Tompkins started North Face, sold it, then with his first wife grew Esprit into an international clothing company before selling his share to her for 150 millions dollars.  He became one of the world's most famous environmentalists, moving to Chile and purchasing millions of acres of land in Chile and Argentina that he and his wife ultimately donated to the countries for the establishment of national parks.  He died tragically in a kayaking accident in 2015.  

And I didn't work at all.  Not a bit.  I may pay for it this week but I desperately needed to disengage for a few days and I did.  Now, coffee almost finished, I'll leave Dose, get on I-65 south and head to the office.  Back at it.

Finding His Stride

Last weekend, MBA's cross country teams - varsity and junior varsity - ran in the Coleman Midgett Invitational at Sanders Ferry Park in Hendersonville, Tennessee.  I missed the race because Joe's Dodgers has their second to last baseball game of the fall season on Saturday morning at 9 a.m., the same as the scheduled starting time for the varsity race. 

MBA's varsity finished in first place with 47 points, nine points ahead of Beech High School (56).  Father Ryan finished in third place with 72 points.  One of MBA's seniors and best runners didn't run because he was nursing a mile calf injury.  

JP ran his best race of the season, by far, finishing seventh overall (and third among MBA's runners).  He set another personal record with a time of 15:51:27 (5,000 meters).  His previous PR was the 16:18:35 he ran at the McCallie Invitational.  Cutting almost 30 seconds off his best time was impressive and I was very happy for JP.  

Jack McDaniel, JP's longtime friend from as far back as Children's House when they were three and four years old, won the junior varsity meet.  JP and I were very excited for Jack.

This week, on Tuesday, MBA runs in the City Championship  at Vaughn Creek in Percy Warner Park.  That's MBA's home course, so JP and his teammates should be comfortable running there.  The week after is the State Championship at Sanders Ferry Park.  McCallie is the favorite and Christian Brothers is strong, too, but MBA has a shot.  That's all you can ask for, I think.

It's been a fun and rewarding cross country season for JP.  His loves his teammates.  It's a really good group of boys.  I'm kind of sad to see the season coming to an end.

Heartbroken

Over the 15 + years I have kept this blog, most of what I have written about my sons has been positive.  Accomplishments, achievements, growth.  Maybe that's because I have great sons (which I do) or maybe it's because it is a natural tendency on may part to want to remember the good times.

As anyone who has children knows, however, being a parent isn't all wine and roses.  Tough days and tough times are part of the deal.  It's all of a piece, the good and the bad. 

Over the past couple of weeks, Joe tried out for the Stars basketball program.  He hoped to be selected for one of the four 5th grade teams they are fielding this season.  I think more than 80 boys tried out for 40 spots over three days of tryouts at the TOA baseball courts in Cool Springs.  Joe made it through the first round of cuts, where the number of boys was reduced to 56 boys.  On Friday afternoon - with Jude in New Orleans with her parents - I received an e-mail confirming Joe was was one of the last 16 boys who was cut.  

The really hard part for Joe - and me, actually - is that all three of his teammates who tried out made it, as did three of his 5th grade classmates at USN.  In other words, all of Joe's closest friends - his athletic peers - made the basketball team and Joe didn't.

Joe was crushed.  He was as down as I've ever seen him, about anything.  Hurt.  Embarrassed.  Sad.  All of  it.  

While the rational part of my brain realizes that part of being a parent is giving your child the space to experience disappointment and failure, it's so damn hard for me to watch Joe go through this.  I feel helpless because I can't make it better.  I can't fix this.  

I feel responsible, too, because I wonder what more I could have done to prevent this disappointment for Joe.  I could have gotten him in the gym with me more often.  I could have - and maybe should have - placed him on a more competitive team, earlier, with more advanced coaching.  I could have coached his recreational league basketball teams over the years.  I could have gotten him even more lessons with Coach Amos (Gregory).  

I have always been realistic about my boys' athletic abilities, their talents and, yes, their limitations.

Objectively, for basketball, Joe is on the small side and he's not particularly quick.  He is an above average ball handler but good enough to run the point against a pressure defense.  He's not strong enough on the ball.  Certainly, he's not a leaper.  He is not aggressive in trying to get his shot.  In short, he is his father's (and mother's) son.  

What Joe brings to the table in basketball are intangibles or specific skills that aren't going to be highlighted in a tryout setting, which awards boys who can get to the rim, get their shot off, or are aggressive enough to shoot a lot.  Basketball is about getting buckets, in the end, right?

Joe is a leader on the basketball court.  With his Bucket Squad team, Joe always is the most intense player on the court.  He plays the best defense.  He works the hardest.  He runs the team.  When he's not there - as Coach Thomas says - the team tends to fall apart against good competition.  Joe run the offense.  He sees the entire court well and he is an excellent passer.  He makes his teammates better by making sure that even the less skilled players get passes from him so they can steal an easy bucket or two.  

Joe plays basketball the right way.  Unselfishly.  Why?  Because that's how I taught him to play.  

And I think I made a huge mistake.  

Now, after what happened, I feel like I should have taught Joe shoot first, pass second.  To play selfishly.  To take 3-point shot after 3-point shot in games, regardless of whether they go in or not.  I worry that by teaching him how to play basketball the right way I stifled his aggressiveness.  Who knows?

The rational part of my mind realizes that it's good for Joe to experience disappointment in his life.  Real, cold disappointment that hurts.  For Joe, and his friends, life is all about going, doing and getting.

Where are we going for fall break?

What are we doing this weekend?

Are we getting season tickets to Belmont basketball games?

No that Joe isn't grateful for what we have, because he is.  Joe is not spoiled.  He conscientiously thanks Jude and me for things large and small, much more so that JP does.  For rides to practice.  For cooking dinner.  Still, his life is good and, in many ways, easy and without struggle.

My hope for him is that he can use this - this setback - to fuel him to work harder, to be even more competitive, and to strive to achieve greater things.  I want it to drive him, day in and day out.  I want it to make him tougher, harder, and more intense when he is competing, athletically and academically.  

It's been a rough few days, for Joe and for Jude and me, too.  We have much to be thankful for, though, and we'll pull together, makes sense of this, and get through it.