Walker's Night

As I've written before, I have a conflicted relationship with travel sports, particularly baseball.  Recreational league baseball has been decimated by travel baseball which, in reality, is nothing more than a money grab at most levels.  

When I grew up, the elite players played a form of travel baseball when they were in high school but not before.  They played for the Shoetiques or Twitty City.  Younger boys played Dixie Youth (crazy) baseball or Little League baseball in the regular season - followed by all-stars for a few players - then it was time to enjoy the real of summer vacation and to get ready for football season in the fall.

It's all different now.  Fall baseball.  Spring baseball.  Travel baseball, which costs the average family $2,500 per player each season.  To be fair, youth soccer started the travel sports concept but baseball and basketball quickly fell in line, too.  Why?  Because there is money to be made from the parents.  Capitalism at its finest, I guess.  Trust me when I say I recognize the hypocrisy here, too, as JP and Joe play travel baseball and Joe plays travel soccer, too.  

What are we paying for, though?  The answer, theoretically anyway, is higher quality coaching at practices and during games.  More practices and games.  Possibly an indoor facility.  Higher calibre competition, although that is often not the case.  In baseball and soccer, B and C level players are playing on travel teams now, not only A level players.  Why?  Again, because there is money to be made from the parents. 

All of this brings me back to my fondness for recreational baseball.  In addition to playing for HBC, Joe is playing for the Braves in the West Nashville Sports League.  We have 24 or 25 players on our roster, several of which are from my original Junior Dodger team.  I'm helping out and coaching when Scott McRae needs me, which he did last night when our boys played at Grassland.

For many years, the Grassland Athletic Association has fielded one of the strongest baseball leagues in middle Tennessee.  Lots of teams at all ages playing baseball ion weeknights and Saturdays throughout the spring and early summer.  Last night, talking to the other coach, I learned that Grassland only has two 12U baseball teams in their entire recreational baseball league.  All of the other players have left to play travel baseball.  Not surprisingly, when our 7:15 a.m. game ended at 8:45 p.m., the lights were off on all of the other fields, as no one else was playing baseball.  

What's being lost is an opportunity for a player like Walker Huey - Joe's longtime USN and neighborhood friend - to have a night like he had last night in Grassland.  Walker, an original Junior Dodger, had a bad baseball experience last season and I was able to add him to the Braves' roster with Scott's blessing.  He was nervous about joining a new club and thought about giving up baseball or, perhaps, not playing in games.  I've been careful to keep an eye on Walker and encourage him because he's a fantastic kid and that's what good coaches do.    

We've worked some in the batting cage and Walker has been improving.  Last night before the game, as I pitched to him in the cage, I encouraged Walker, a lefty, to make sure his front, right foot was stepping straight toward the pitcher as he swung.  He's been stepping out just a bit and he's worked to correct that, which is what good, coachable players do.  I could see him, in the cage, bouncing up and down slightly before I pitched to him, stepping straight forward with his right foot as he completed a practice swing. 

In the game, the boys faced two of the best pitchers they have seen all season, both of whom play travel baseball on strong teams.  The first time up, with two strikes in a good at bat, Walker turned on a curve ball - or what passed for one - and ripped it into right field.  He scored a couple of batters later.  I was ecstatic.  The best part of all, maybe, was that Walker's dad, Derek, was coaching first base when Walker singled to right field.  That doesn't happen in travel baseball.

The next time up, against another very good pitcher, Walker singled to right center field.  It made my night and, really, my spring baseball season to see Walker have the success he had last night on the baseball field.  He worked for it.  He wanted it.  He got it.  Baseball is like life, as I always say.  Work for something, want something, and go get it.

After the game, in right field, I told the players how proud I was of all of them.  I told them, though, that I was particularly proud of Walker, who was our only player to go 2-2 on the night.  I even gave Walker a game ball, something I rarely do.  I wanted him to remember the night and his success for a long time.  I wanted him to gain confidence from his performance and carry that forward on the baseball field and off.  

It will surprise me if Walker ever plays travel baseball.  But for one night, he was the best hitter on our recreational baseball team.  

I'll remember last night for a long time.  I get Walker will, too.

A Long Lost Weekend of Baseball

JP's MBA junior varsity baseball season came to an ignominious end Saturday afternoon when he looked at a called third strike in a 12-5 loss to David Lipscomb.  Nope, I'm not going to call it "Lipscomb Academy," not not and not ever.  David Lipscomb it is.

For JP, it was awful way to end what had been a reasonably good season.  He started every game but one, as I recall, playing mostly second base and third base with a little outfield mixed in earlier in the season.  He never really got his bat on track, which disappointed JP, I know.  He was on base a lot, though, through sheer hustle and determination.  He might have led the team in hit by pitches, including Saturday's game when David Lipscomb's horse plunked him in the hip with a fastball.  

When he was on base this season, JP consistently made things happen by stealing bases and taking an extra base when the situation allowed.  On Saturday, for example, he beat out an infield hit when the second baseman bobbled the ball then continued running to second when he realized no one was covering the bag.  The next batter, Winn (WNSL Dodger alumni), similarly beat out an infield hit and JP alertly rounded third and slid into home head first on the play.  Watching JP and Winn work together at second base and shortstop, and on the base paths, has been fun.  

After beating Ensworth Friday afternoon, MBA was out of pitching for the most part.  Whitt pitched his ass off against David Lipscomb and did well but after he was spent, there was no one left in relief who matched up well with David Lipscomb's hitters.  I had hoped Coach Anderson would pitched JP, as had a few other fathers who have seen JP pitch over the years.  He didn't, though, and I am not sure how much difference it would have made in the end.  David Lipscomb played better than we did and they had a horse on the mound who nearly pitched a complete game, finishing at just under 100 pitches.

For the season, I would have liked to see JP have an opportunity to pitch in relief but other than a meaningless inning in the last game of the season against Brentwood Academy, it didn't happen.  Mostly, I was curious how he would match up against other junior varsity players.  He played a ton, though, and he will be pitching for HBC this summer on a regular basis so it all works out in the end.

I am sad that the school season is over for JP, though, as I really enjoyed getting to know the other parents.  There are a lot of fathers who really know baseball.  It's just a really good group of parents and boys.  I will miss seeing them at games.

Joe's HBC 12U Grays played at Lavergne on Saturday and Sunday, losing all three games.  Quite a different outcome than last weekend's tournament win in Donelson but that's baseball, right!?!  Joe is mired in a terrible hitting slump - there's a theme here - and I actually videoed his at bats in an effort to find the problem.  We worked off the tee and side tossed in the back yard after yesterday's loss after we identified what might be the problem.  Joe is lowering his bat, rather than loading back, when the pitcher winds up.  Only getting reps will help him break the habit, so we'll keep at it.  

Tonight, Joe plays in Grassland with his WNSL Braves squad.  I'll be coaching, as Scott and the St. Henry's boys have a school event that conflicts with the game.  For old times sake, I am going to wear one of my WNSL Dodgers jerseys.  As usual, I cannot wait to get on the field with the boys tonight.

Baseball, baseball, baseball.  What will I do one day in the not too distant future when the boys' baseball careers are over?  

Joe Takes the Hill

For Joe, baseball season is in full swing.  He's playing for the 12U Gray squad at Harris Baseball Club, a tournament team.  When he doesn't have HBC games, he's also playing for the WNSL Braves with several of the boys from the Junior Dodgers and my fall WNSL team, as well.  A lot of baseball, which is the way he likes it.

It's interesting, too, because on the HBC team, Joe is one of the younger and smaller players.  He bats lower in the order and generally plays right or left field.  He hasn't pitched yet, although the tournament season is just getting under way.  I'm not concerned about that - at least, not yet - although he throws harder and more accurately than a few of the other boys who have pitched.  He'll get his chance on the mound for his HBC team and because he's Joe, he will rise to the occasion.  I have no doubt about that.

On his Braves team, Joe bats second or third, plays shortstop or pitches.  He's the most consistent pitcher on the team and he's getting innings, which is partially why I'm not too concerned if he pitches for his HBC squad early in the season.

Earlier this week, I filled in for my friend, Scott, and coached the Braves against a solid Orioles' team.  The WNSL Orioles actually are leftover remnants of the Lions, a St. Matthews's team from years past that broke up after half of the team opted to play tournament, or travel, baseball.  Still, the Orioles have a good team and their starting pitcher was one of the better 12 year olds I've seen in a while, including in the HBC tournament games.

He was tall for his age with a very nice, smooth delivery from the mound.  What really impressed me was how he gained great leverage by fully striding off the mound toward home plate with every pitch.  That led to a lot velocity and the ability to keep the ball down.  A good combination for a 12-year old pitcher.  Hard to hit, too.  The Braves scratched out a run on him, though, when Joe scored after getting on base on an error when he hit a hard ground ball to shortstop, then stole second base and got to third on a passed ball.

I started Joe at pitcher and he was on, for sure, against a decent to good hitter.  It's funny but unlike JP, Joe tends to grunt when he pitches, like he's an older player exerting maximum effort on every pitch.  Not loudly or obnoxiously, but audibly.  He's so much like JP was at that age on the mound.  Pretty good velocity for a boy who is not too big and very good control.  He also thinks about what he's doing, situationally, and moves the ball around in the strike zone.  For example, if he's up 0-2 on a bigger boy, he'll climb the ladder on the next pitch or two and try to get him to chase.  

Joe pitched three scoreless, and hitless, innings, allowing only one baserunner, a boy he plunked in the leg after being ahead of him, 1-2.  No one hit a ball hard against him and I could have thrown him one or two more innings but I wanted to get a couple of the other boys some work.  Joe is a gamer, like JP, and I love that about him.  No situation is too big for him, particularly when he is pitching.

As I did with JP, I sat on my bucket of baseballs outside the first base dugout while our boys were in the field and Joe was pitching.  When there was a runner on first base and I wanted Joe to throw over, I removed may baseball cap.  Joe has a nifty, quick move to first base, just as JP did at that age.  His throws over were accurate, too.  

Big Mike, who followed Joe on the mound, struggled with his control and gave up 4 runs in what ended up as a 5 - 4 loss for the Braves.  Bennet gave up the go ahead run on a passed ball in the last inning, which is the way it goes sometimes.  

This weekend, it's all sports all the time.  JP plays for the MBA JV squad in the tournament against Ensworth today at 4:30 p.m. (at CPA) and Joe plays Armada soccer at 7:30 p.m. in Bellevue.  Tomorrow, JP will have another baseball game at CPA and Joe will play two games in Lavergne for HBC.  Sunday, Predators' playoff game and more baseball for Joe.

And I will love every minute of it.

Just like Bo Jackson in the old Nike ads, Joe knows baseball.  And soccer.

The Beast Returns

Monday afternoon after baseball practice, JP changed out of his baseball uniform and into running shorts and an MBA singlet and walked over to the track to compete in the Freshman Metro Championships.  Like Superman, I guess.

JP was scheduled to run the 1600 (mile) first, followed by the 800 (half mile), sometime around 6 p.m.  As I arrived at MBA after grabbing a quick cup of late afternoon coffee from Dose, I was nervous, as I always am when JP runs.  The weather was perfect, a spring evening that almost felt like a fall evening.  Deep blue sky withe slightest chill in the air.

Along with playing baseball, JP has been running close to 20 miles a week.  As near as I can tell, he runs one day during the week and Saturday and Sunday.  His fitness level is high but still, I had no idea how he would fare against other freshman who have been training and running exclusively for track all spring.  The uncertainty added to my nervousness, I think.

I walked down to the track for the start of the 1600 because I like to be by myself when JP races.  No distractions.  No exchanging niceties with other parents.  All of that can come later.  Just a silent prayer or two, then I watch the race.  Alone.

When the race started, JP settled comfortably into the middle of the pack on the first lap.  Midway through the second lap, his freshman teammate, Gabe, was running first and JP settled in right behind him.  At that point, it was pretty clear that Gabe and JP were racing each other, not the rest of the field.  Something tells me that may be the case in a lot of races over the next few years.  

At some point on the third lap, JP passed Gabe and moved into the lead.  He looked good as he always does when he races, running easily and naturally with his shoulders back and his head high.  Watching him run is akin to a religious experience to me.  It's beautiful.  

He pulled away from Gabe just a bit on the fourth lap and as the boys turned the corner from home, it looked to me like JP had enough to win the race.  He did, finishing ahead of game by a couple of seconds.  Gabe is an amazing runner, to be sure, and having run the 3200 in a track meet the previous Friday undoubtedly affected his finishing kick.  JP and Gabe finished 1 and 2 for MBA, which proved to be significant in the overall team scoring.

JP ran a 4:37, which is really strong.

Immediately after the race, I could tell JP was fired up, which Ioved.  He was talking to himself a little bit, then yelled something to no one in particular.  It was like an engine cooling down after running a full throttle.    

As Coach Russ and I discussed after the 1600, the hardest thing about this particular meet for JP and Gabe is that because there are no girls' races and no 350 hurdles, the 800 is run less than 20 minutes after the 1600.  In other words, it's very, very tough on runners who are running both events, because there is so little time to recover from one race to the next.  Also, there was a tall, lanky boy from MLK running in the 800 - a strong runner - who didn't run in the 1600, so he would be fresh and ready to go.

Again, I stood by myself along the outside of the track, near the starting line, when the starter fired his pistol in the air to begin the 800.  Suddenly, at the first turn, a couple of runners in the middle of the pack cut inside too soon and a runner fell in front of JP.  JP fell over that runner and landed on the track, scraping his arm and hip.  Gabe, running behind JP, tried to leap over the runner on the ground.  Unfortunately, the runner on the ground tried to get up as Gabe was leaping over him, causing Gabe to somersault onto the track, landing on his left forearm.  

The starter fired his pistol again and stopped the race as the trainer attended to Gabe, who was lying on the track in obvious pain.  As JP walked by me and nodded, I could tell he was pissed.  I've seen that look before and it gave me an idea of what likely to follow as the runner lined up to restart the race without Gabe, who was unable to race.  

As the starter fired his pistol for the second time to begin the 800, JP quickly surged to the lead early in the first of two laps.  By the beginning of the second lap, I could tell no one was catching him.  Not today.  When he made the final turn on the home stretch, he turned on the gas and considerably lengthened the gap between himself and the MLK runner, who didn't have anything for him.  I was stunned as I watched JP sprinting down the home stretch.  

The beast returns.

JP ran angry in the 800, not unlike the 8th grade cross country race at Ensworth a couple of years ago, when one of his USN rivals apparently talked a little trash before the race.  JP ran that race going away, too, because he was running angry.  

I'm not sure where all of this is going but is sure is fun to watch JP race.  It's also fun to watch him play baseball, which is what I'll be doing this afternoon in the first game of the junior varsity baseball tournament.  

In the end, MBA's freshman won the Metro Championship by .667 of point.  Quite a day.

A Lesson Learned

Jude and I are blessed, in every way, as it relates to our boys.  Unquestionably.  Occasionally, though, we're reminded that are boys are human and not perfect.  And you know what?  That's as it should be.

Last Thursday, MBA's JV baseball squad played Ensworth, a team they soundly defeated earlier in the season.  With a 6-2 lead, JP was batting in the later stages of the game.  The first pitch from Ensworth's second pitcher was a slow curve, clearly inside, that the umpire mistakenly called a strike.  

JP, who has been scuffling at the plate the last few games, didn't like the call.  He stepped out of the box and shook his head slowly.  Then, much to my surprise, he tapped the end of his bat on the turf well inside of home plate three or four times, clearly pointing out to the umpire and everyone watching the path he thought the ball took to the catcher's mitt, well off home plate. 

And then all hell broke loose.

The umpire, a tall, imperious man who played offensive line for Boots Donnelly at Austin Peay State University in the mid-70's, ripped off his mask and immediately confronted JP.  

"Don't you do that!" Les bellowed.

"What?"  JP replied.  

"You know what you did!  I know what you did!"  Les continued, voice raised in anger.  

At that point, genuinely mortified that things had turned on him so quickly, JP mumbled "I can't believe this."  JP didn't mean it disrespectfully.  He was stunned by what had happened.

"You better believe it!  Step out and talk to your coach because I'm about to run you!"  Les replied.  

At that point, JP stepped completely out of the batter's box.  The crowd murmured quietly and a feeling of unease and disquiet settled over us.  Coach Anderson encouraged JP and still somewhat bewildered, he stepped back in the batter's box.

While I hoped JP was going to get mad and rip a single back up the middle, I knew that wasn't what was likely to happen.  JP doesn't like to be the center of attention, particularly for the wrong reasons, and he was completely flummoxed by the intensity of Les's reaction and the fact that he came within an eyelash of ejecting JP, one of the quietest players on MBA's JV baseball team.

Ensworth's pitcher, and auburn haired heavyset boy, threw two more curve balls, both of which JP flailed at helplessly.  Strike two.  Strike three.  JP staggered back, to the first base dugout, completely lost.  I felt for him.  I really did because I knew he was embarrassed by the whole incident.  

Keep in mind, of course, this is the same boy who was one of two members of his class elected to the Honor Council at MBA the day before.  I knew all of that, and more, was going through his mind as he walked back to the dugout.  

What happened with Les was out of character for JP.  Anyone who knows him knows that to be a fact.  However, I knew he was pressing at the plate and I could sense his frustration building the day before, at Father Ryan, when he struck out looking at a called third strike.  

Now, here's the good part.  As I predicted in a conversation with Boots Donnelly between innings, when the game ended JP popped out of the dugout and walked straight up to Les to catch him before he left the field.  As I watched with tears in my eyes, Les put his arm around JP and talked with him for five minutes or so.  They shared a private moment as JP's teammates lined up and walked across the infield to congratulate Ensworth on a well played baseball game.  

It was a moment I will never forget.  

I was more proud of JP than at any point this season, as I watched him in quiet conversation with Les, who is an excellent umpire and, really, a role model for our boys.  

When he arrived home after the game, JP and I talked about what had happed before I hustled off to the class at teach at Nashville School Law on Thursday evenings.  We agreed he had learned a valuable lesson, one better learned late in the season of a JV game than in a tournament game as a junior or senior.  

Unbeknownst to JP, I snapped a quick photo after the game while he was talking with Les.  If ever a picture was worth a thousand words, it's this one.

A Day of Days

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be able to look at all of the days of my life and pick out my favorite.  

All of the days would need to be in categories, I guess.  Maybe categorized by age, subject matter, special events, or normal days.  What would be really cool, though, would be if I could select my favorite 14 days and relive them.  Not to change the days but to experience those 14 days all over again.  

It's very likely that yesterday would be on the list.  

I had a trial in a case involving a client of whom I'm very fond.  My team and I worked very hard to prepare for the trial.  It's nice to walk into court for a trial and feel like you're prepared and that you've done all you can do to be ready.  My opponent is a very good lawyer.  A worthy opponent, to be sure, and a lawyer I like a great deal.  While we zealously represented our clients in court during the trial, he and I were respectful of each other.  No tricks or games, just professional, diligent, competent lawyering.  The way it should be and, sadly, the way it often is not.   

Before he made his ruling, the judge complemented my opponent and me on a well plead case and a well tried case.  He made a point of complimenting the parties and the witness, as well, for being honest and credible.  

As we left the courthouse, I felt very proud to be a trial lawyer.  

I drove straight to MBA and arrived in the 2nd inning of JP's game vs. FRA.  The Big Red won easily, 13-3.  Ethan Deerkoski pitched well, again, and everyone hit the ball.  JP stole home midway through the game, taking off from 3rd base when he realized the pitcher wasn't paying much attention to him when the catcher through the ball back to him after each pitch.  Although a good throw might have had him, it was cool to see JP slide head first across home plate as a few of his cross country teammates cheered from the stands.

Joe had a soccer game in Murfreesboro.  His Armada team lost 4-1.  

Tried and mentally drained, I sat on our back deck last night before dinner and had a bourbon.  I didn't read or listen to music.  I just sat, alone and quietly.  

I felt content.  

That's not a small thing, either.  It's so easy to take our lives for granted.  To fall into the trap of wanting more.  It's much harder, I think, to feel content.  Harder, still, to be content.  

"There is no happier person than a truly thankful, content person."

- Joyce Meyer