For Every Season

One of the coolest things about watching JP play baseball on MBA's JV team this season has been running into so many of his Dodgers' teammates on other teams.  We've seen Cyrus, Riley, Wes, Elijah, and Benton.  Of course, he plays with Winn, J.D., and Ethan.  All Dodgers at one time or another, which is really, really cool.

I take so much pride in watching those boys - my boys - play baseball in high school.  The entire experience of running the Dodgers and coaching those boys for nine years, fall and spring, in WNSL, all-stars, and the occasional tournament was life changing and transformative for me.  The boys, my assistant coaches (whom I miss seeing regularly), the parents, the grandparents.  All of it.  The best days of my life as a father have been spent on baseball fields with JP, Joe, and their teammates.  

JP, batting leadoff for MBA this season, already has batted against Cyrus (Hillsboro), Wes (David Lipscomb), and yesterday, Benton (Ensworth).  Watching my son in the batter's box, batting against boys he has known and played with since he was five years old is tremendously special.    

When Benton struck JP out with a curve ball in yesterday's game - a 7 - 5 - MBA win - I couldn't help but smile a little bit.  After the game, Benton told me the curve ball was a birthday present for JP.  Classic Benton.  I was smiling a bit wider, though, when JP lined a 2-strike single into left field against an Ensworth relief pitcher to plate the go ahead run for the Big Red.  He was due.

Although it drives JP crazy, I think, I've been walking on to the baseball field after games to take photos of my Dodgers together.  I can't help myself.  Our Dodgers parents' group loves it when I circulate the post-game photos on a group text.   

When I walked on to Ensworth's field yesterday after the game, I met Benton walking in with a teammate from right field.  As I hugged him, I marveled at the fact that he's taller and bigger than me now, his long, blond hair past his shoulders, as always.  My guy, almost grown up.

"Benton, I'm so proud of you," I said, my voice choked with emotion.  "You pitched a great game."

"Thanks, Coach," he replied.  

Benton had the sweet, teenage awkwardness about him, unsure of how to react in what was a bit of an emotional moment for both of us as we stood together on the Ensworth High School baseball field in the dying sunlight of a beautiful fall evening.  In that moment, I was overwhelmed with a flood of baseball memories, with Benton and JP in the middle of almost all of them.

"Coach."  

That word means everything to me.  I've gotten out of the mindset of seeing myself as a coach as the boys have gotten older and are coached by other, so it was nice to hear him say it.  For so long, coaching baseball was my identity.  It was how I saw myself, first and foremost.   

I started coaching Benton when he was five, maybe six years old, so I've watched him grow up.  I've been there through his successes and failures on the baseball field, through struggles and moments of triumph.  I've had a front seat to all of it.  The best seat, really. 

I think what I've loved about Benton over all of these years together is that he's a lot like me.  Stubborn.  Competitive.  Confident.  Emotional.  Sly sense of humor.  Tough but with a heart as pure as gold when it comes to his friends and family.  

Benton's always been a bit of a gunslinger and I've loved that about him.  He's a quiet leader and he instilled confidence in his Dodgers' teammates, always, with his demeanor on the mound and his confidence at the plate.  I could see that's still the case during and after the MBA-Ensworth game in the way his teammates interacted with him. 

From a very young age, Benton has been serious about baseball.  I can remember when the boys were young, really young, playing coach pitch baseball on fields four and five at Harpeth Hills Church of Christ.  While the other Dodgers were running around before a game, acting like five or six year olds act, Benton quietly put his baseball gear in the dugout.  He was the first boy to learn how to keep up with his own gear.  He always stacked it neatly in the dugout in between at bats or going out to the field to play defense.  While other boys were rummaging through the dugout, looking for their hats or gloves, Benton was always ready to go.

I thought to myself then, so many years ago, that this one is a baseball player.  This quiet, serious, respectful, blond haired boy is a baseball player.

And you know what?  I was right.  

Benton is a baseball player.  A damn good one.