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.