Scott Harman Relays

In what could only be called a stroke of serendipity, my NSL class was canceled Wednesday night due to inclement weather.  That meant I could attend the Scott Harman Relays and watch JP race in the 3200.

The Scott Harman Relays are important to me because I grew up in the same neighborhood with Scott Harman.  We played youth baseball together.  He was two years behind me at Brentwood High School.  He was the best athlete I've ever known.  6'3" 210 pounds.  All-County and All-Midstate running back.  He won a state championship in the pole vault in 1985.  In 1986, he broke the state record in the decathlon by 200 points and, in the process, won a state championship.  Scott subsequently accepted a track scholarship to UT (Knoxville) and I occasionally saw him on campus in the fall and winter of 1986.

On April 17, 1987, Scott was in Berea, KY, participated in his first track meet as a member of UT's track and field team.  While warming up, he was hit in the head by an errant throw of the hammer by another athlete.  Scott never regained full consciousness and died at home 16 years later on November 12, 2003.  It's a tragic story made more so by the fact that Scott's older sister died in a car accident near our neighborhood a year or so before he was critically injured.

Initially, the Scott Harman Relays began at Brentwood High School as a fundraiser for the Hartman family.  It makes me happy, all these years later, that they're still held in Scott's honor every spring.  I don't want Scott Harman to be forgotten.  To that end, I sent one of JP's track coaches an e-mail last weekend providing him with details about Scott to share with MBA's track and field team before the meet.

On Wednesday evening, I arrived at Brentwood High School about 6 p.m.  After finding a parking place behind Brentwood Middle School, I found an entrance on the back side of the track and walked across the infield, still wearing my coat and tie.  The boys were finishing the second heat of the 800.  JP's senior cross country teammate, Jack Farringer, ran well, clocking a 2:05:42 in the second heat.  I missed the first heat, in which JP's senior cross country teammate, Jack Wallace, won the 800 by running a blistering 1:56:75.

Almost as soon as I walked up, lightning flashed in the western sky and the meet was officially delayed.  Athletes were ordered off the track and parents walked to their cars.  Jude and I sat in my car for close to an hour, listening to a podcast.  I reclined my seat and catnapped.  Finally, I drove her around to her car in the front parking lot, so she could leave to get Joe from Rohan Chitale's house after his baseball game, which had been rained out.  

Surprisingly, the meet resumed about 7:45 p.m. and I walked back down to the track.  I talked with some other parents and stood for a few moments by the flagpole with the plaque honoring Scott Hartman.  I watched a relay or two and a few boys and girls hurdles heats.  I walked to the back side of the track and stood next to a Father Ryan mother as she watched her daughter run the 3200.  Finally, about 8:00 p.m., the boys lined up to 3200.

I was curious to see how JP would fare against other boys who had been training specifically on the track all spring long.  JP, of course, has been playing baseball primarily and running on his own.  He works in the occasional track workout with the team when it doesn't conflict with baseball.  I like the 3200 for JP, too, because I think he excels at that distance.  

With the sky threatening heavy rain at any moment, the starter fired his pistol, and the boys were off.  On the first lap, at the third turn where I was standing, JP was leading the pack as the boys ran what appeared to be a comfortable pace.  My first thought, though, was for JP to get out of the lead.  On a windy night, no need to lead the race.  Let someone else do the work of the leader and trust your kick at the end.  Don't go out too fast and don't break for the lead too early.

In the second lap, JP settled in behind the leader, running along the inside of the track.  By the third lap, the lead pack of seven runners, including JP and Gabe (his classmate at MBA), had broken away a bit.  JP continued to run second and looked good, like a car in fourth gear, with a fifth gear available, when and if necessary.

Although I was nervous, I felt good about how JP was running as the runners crossed the start/finish line and began the second half of the race.  He's a quick study and when he ran the 2-mile, indoors, in Louisville earlier this year, I think he realized he broke too early.  My thought, then, was that he's probably break at or near the beginning of the last lap.

And when the bell rang loudly, that's exactly what he did.  Nearing the far, second turn from where I was standing, JP burst from the pack with a powerful move no one else could match.  I walked across the track then began jogging across the infield to get to the finish line.  He had pulled away from the pack by 10 or 15 yards as the boys approached the third turn, where I had been standing.

He was running fast and easy as he made the final turn and ran down the straightaway toward the finish line.  A runner from Page High School, in second place, tried to pick up the pace and reel JP in, but he couldn't do it.  JP maintained a distance of 10 yards or so between them.  As he crossed the finish line in 9:42:32, JP extended his arms out beside him in celebration, almost like wings.  I chuckled, remembering that JP's former teammate, Samuel Trumble, raised an index finger to the sky in the same race last year and was almost disqualified by the race officials.  

I found JP and gave him a hug and took a quick post-race photo.  JP had a huge smile on his face.  A smile of relief, maybe, after he'd worked so hard, running on his own in the mornings before school or on weekends.  A smile of pride and a sense of accomplishment after winning his first race in a high school track event.  A smile of youth and, in some ways, innocence.  He was ebullient and that made me very happy.  

After the race, as the team and coaches were milling around the infield, Coach Russ said to him, kiddingly, "nice race for a baseball player."  JP laughed and I did, too.  

I took a few more photos, including my traditional JP and Gabe shot.  Alice called them "Shake and Bake" in a text the other day, which made me laugh.  

I said goodbye to JP, got in my truck, and drove home as is started to rain.  I was filled with wonder and gratitude.    

What a gift it is to watch my son run.  

Conflicts

I hate missing any of the boys' sports activities.  At times, it's unavoidable, like when I have a mediation.  Those, I can't really control in terms of when they conclude.  Occasionally, I'll get caught in court or in a deposition and be unable to get away.  

My scheduled was set up just right, this week, to watch JP run on Thursday in his first track meet of the season, the Scott Hartman Relays, at my alma mater, Brentwood High School.  Unfortunately, Brentwood High moved everything up a day to try to avoid bad weather headed our way the end of the week.  As a result, JP is running the 3200 tonight, rather than Thursday.  I teach at Nashville School of Law on Wednesday nights, so I have an unforeseen scheduling conflict.  

I would consider missing tonight but we're doing to our final two classes and our last two trials.  Our students work all semester long to prepare for their trial.  It's the culmination of almost six months of Wednesday night classes.  I just can't miss one of our four trials.  I can't.

It kills me, though, because I don't miss JP's races.  Ever.  I'm very curious to see how he does today given that he has been running on his own this spring and attending the occasional track workout when it doesn't conflict with baseball.  He's fit, for sure, but he not be track fit, to coin a phrase.  

On top of that, Joe has a baseball game at USN's River Campus.  Under normal circumstances, Jude and I would divide and conquer since JP and Joe have after school sports activities.  Not today, though.  

Sports on Earth

Joe's USN varsity middle school baseball team (7th and 8th grade) played Brentwood Academy.  Joe and a couple of other USN 6h graders are playing with the varsity.  It's a challenge for Joe, which is good, because there is a lot of difference, physically, between a 6th grader and an 8th grader.  In point of fact, Brentwood Academy's middle school varsity team had players, across the board, that were significantly bigger than JP's junior varsity high school team at MBA.  Draw your own conclusions.

USN got gonged in the 4th inning, losing 13 - 1 or something like that.  They're not a very good team and, frankly, they don't appear to be very well organized.  I think the boys, and the baseball program, miss Coach Gimblette.  He departed mid-semester in the fall much to the surprise of the administration, parents, and baseball players.  The timing was unfortunate, as was the fact that he didn't at least work through the end of the semester or the end of the year.  I feel sorry for the high school baseball players he left with little or no warning.  It's not the way I would have done it, for sure.  I've always said that how you leave a job is as important as how you start it.

In Joe's only at bat, he was completely overmatched by a hard throwing right hander.  Three pitches, two called strikes.  On the third pitch, he pulled his head out and swung and missed.  Strike three.  He's dropping his bat before the ball has left the pitcher's hand, which is something we tried to eliminate last summer.  He's got a lot of work to do to become a better hitter.  I think he's ready to start, though, so we may go hit today.  

He played third base and shortstop in the first three innings of the game.  On the only ball hit his way - a soft line drive in front of him at shortstop - he couldn't quite get there to catch it in the air and bobbled it before making the throw to first base, so the runner was safe.  Right now, he's a gamer without the game to play against 7th and 8th graders but, again, that's to be expected at his size and age.  I want him playing against older, strong, and better players because that will help him improve.  It's a process.  

Joe pitched the fourth inning and I was really, really proud of how he battled.  He got nicked for one run but also struck out a batter, looking, when he threw him a nifty changeup.  It followed a fastball so he set it up perfectly.  Like his brother, he was around the strike zone and threw to contact.  That's a great start, for sure.  

Joe and I left for the TOA Sports Performance Center (it sounds like a bigger deal than it is) immediately after Joe's game so he could catch the second game of a doubleheader for his 6th grade Starts' basketball team.  Having not watched this team play yet and knowing that his winter Stars' team struggled at times, I wasn't sure what to expect or what I would get at the game.

What I got, however, was the best game I have ever seen a team Joe is playing on play for two halves of basketball.  Joe's team is extremely well coached to begin with.  Every single player played hard, played defense, rebounded, and hustled.  There wasn't enough sharing of the basketball for my tastes which, really, is a slight criticism because Joe's group beat a decent team by 30 + points.  

There is real talent on Joe's team and, for once, a legitimate big man with real height and aggressiveness.  Of course, no on the team passed him the ball in post for the entire game, which was unbelievable.  After the game, I asked Joe if the big man had stolen somebody's girl friend.  It looked like they were freezing him out.  

What I loved about Joe's game was what I always love about Joe's game - his unselfishness.  He had three or four assists, which is three or four more than anyone else on the team had in my estimation.  He looks to pass first and you need players like that.  He also rebounded and picked up a couple of loose balls, which isn't particular easy at his size.  He hit a bucket on the baseline, too.  

Joe's best friend Pike, whom I have seen play what seems like a thousand basketball games with Joe over the years, was a revelation.  It's by far the most complete game I have seen Pike play.  He's talented and can score but last night, finally, he hustled and worked on defense.  He rebounded, too.  He as aggressive and when he missed a shot, he didn't hang his head.  I was really proud of Pike and I told him so after the game.  

This afternoon, Joe has a soccer scrimmage because, well, of course he does.  18 hours.  Three sports.  

I wouldn't have it any other way.

JP and the Edge of Seventeen

Well I'm not the kind to live in the past

The years run too short and the days too fast

The things you lean on are the things that don't last

Well it's just now and then my line gets cast into these 

Time passages

There's something back here that you left behind

Oh time passages

Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight

- Al Stewart (1978)

JP turns 17 years old today.  

It's a beautiful time to be his father.  He's no longer a boy yet not quite a man.  

Some days, I see vestiges of the boy he used to be and glimpses of the man he will become.  It's a fascinating juxtaposition in so many ways.  

JP is, earnest, diligent, hard working, driven, ambitious, serious, intelligent, kind, caring, competitive, funny, athletic, and confident.  All of that and so much more.  

He's a son any parent would dream to have, quite honestly.  He's a tremendous big brother to Joe, who idolizes him.  He is Christ centered, which I really, really admire about him.  He takes his Catholic faith very seriously.   

His work ethic is unparalleled.  I've never seen anything like it in a boy his age.  He inspires me. 

Many mornings, before school, he's up at 5:30 a.m. and out the door for a five or six mile run.  On other mornings, he leaves early for school for an Honor Council meeting, a role in which he takes great pride.  After school, at least this spring, he practices or plays baseball for the MBA junior varsity team or does a track workout with the varsity track team.  When he gets home, he studies before and after dinner in his room (aka "the Grind House").  

I worry sometimes because he works so incredibly hard almost all of the time.  I want to make sure he takes time to enjoy himself.  I want him to enjoy these last 2 + years in high school, living at home, as much as he can.  He's a goal setter.  Always has been.  I want him to enjoy the journey, though, and not obsess about the destination.  I really want that for him.

At this point, it feels trite to write about how quickly time passes.  Still, it's true.  

As I finished a run this morning and walked down Belmont Boulevard to cool down, I could almost see JP (age 4 or 5) and me outside Bongo Java, splashing through the water running down the side of the street after a summer rainstorm on a Saturday afternoon.  That one brief moment of spontaneous and unbridled joy will be with me always.  The laughter and the innocence of that moment as his youth stretched endlessly before us.  I thought we would be there, in that place, forever. 

I have, quite literally, a million memories just like that one, of JP as a boy.  I could write a book and maybe, someday, I will.  

Happy 17th birthday, JP.  I love you.        

These Are The Days

Yesterday was one of those special days for me as a father.  A day that brought back a lot of happy memories but, at the same time, a day that will stand alone in my memory.

On a beautiful spring afternoon, I watched JP's MBA JV team defeat one of their true rivals, Father Ryan, 7 - 5 in what was a great baseball game.  To begin with, I didn't think I would make the game because I was in the first day of a three day mediation.  The mediation ended rather suddenly mid-afternoon, which meant I could get to JP's baseball game.  I even had time to change clothes so I wouldn't be the only main the stands watching the game in a coat and tie as is usually the case.

Neither team could get anything going offensively for the first couple of innings.  Whitt pitched very well for MBA.  High velocity on his fastball and better control than his last outing.  He's a competitor and will contribute in a big way to the varsity baseball team over the next couple of years.  

In his first at bat, JP lined a grounder back to the pitcher off of the end of his bat and was thrown out at first.  Not great contact but he was on the pitch.  In the third or fourth inning, MBA rallied and plated two runs.  JP batted with two outs and a runner on third base.  He lined an RBI single into right center field just over the second basemen's head.  It was a big hit for him and for the team, as MBA increased its lead to 3 - 0.  

Unfortunately, the wheels fell off for MBA in the top of the 6th inning.  Father Ryan scored five runs after Whitt ran out of gas and MBA's first relief pitcher struggled a bit.  Aidan, a freshman I haven't met yet, came in as the second relief pitcher and put out the fire.  

Earlier, in the inning in which MBA scored three runs, Aidan laid down a perfect sacrifice bunt, moving two baserunners to second third.  Both baserunners scored when the next batter singled.  It was good, fundamental baseball.

In the bottom of the sixth inning, Father Ryan's relief pitcher tired and MBA took advantage, scoring four runs to take a 7 - 5 lead.  JP was hit by a pitch that gazed his jersey.  Against a left-hander, he got a big jump and slid safely into second base after the batter grounded out to first base in what amounted to a hit-and-run.  One pitch later, he noticed the second baseman was not holding him on, so he took off for third base and stole it, easily beating the throw from Father Ryan's catcher (one of his teammates on HBC last summer).  Later, JP confirmed he stole third on his own, which I suspected was the case.

In the bottom of the seventh inning, JP made a nice catch on routine fly ball to center field for the first out.  He was perfect positioned to make the play.  Aidan - pitching like an absolute boss - struck out the last batter with runners on second and third to clinch the win.  Huge.

____________________________________________

So, that's the game story.  What mattered the most to me, though, was watching JP play baseball on a beautiful spring afternoon with a good group of young men on a rapidly improving baseball team.  

For the last few innings, I sat with Gavin O'Heir, my friend and the father of one of JP's teammates and friends.  We laughed, talked sports (Celtics vs. Lakers), laughed some more, and watched our sons play baseball, just as we have for the last three baseball seasons.  He's a great guy and a fantastic father.  His son, also named Gavin, is a well rounded student and athlete, precisely the kind of boy with whom I want JP to be friends.

As I watched JP running in from center field, at the plate, and on the bases, I was struck by how much he looks like a baseball player.  I thought back to all of the spring and summer evenings in the house on Elliott Avenue when we would throw on a little strip of grass at Mount Gilead Baptist Church, across the street, after dinner.  I thought of all of the practices and games in which I've coached him over the years.  Wins and losses.  Successes and failures.

All of it, or so it seemed, culminated in yesterday's game as I watched JP.  Not the strongest or biggest baseball player on the team.  Not the most gifted but maybe the most confident and self-assured player on the team.  Already this season, he has played center field, left field, shortstop, third base, second base, and pitcher.  He's probably the best base runner or at least one of them.  

He's a baseball player and I love to watch him play baseball.

I know these days are numbered.  In a way, they always have been.  Nothing lasts forever.  Not youth.  Not teams.  Not school.  Not life.  

Not baseball.

Still, I'll remember yesterday's game as one fo the special ones.  One of my favorites.  

  

Red Rolled

I had a mediation cancel yesterday, which was great because it allowed me to sneak away early to watch JP play JV baseball at David Lipscomb.  The Mustangs rolled MBA, 11 - 1.

It's going to be a long season, I believe, because MBA's JV team has nine freshman.  Those boys are young, small, and learning that this is a big difference between 7th and 8th grade baseball and JV high school baseball.  They're thin on pitching and, at least early, no one is hitting.  They lost a couple of pitchers, too, who really would have helped this team, which is unfortunate.  Yes, it's early, but this team just feels different, less confident, than last year's team.

What I've stressed to JP is to lead this team.  It's not unlike the junior school "A" team a couple of years ago.  There were very few 8th graders that played much at all.  JP lead that team and he needs to lead this one.  It's a real opportunity for growth for him, I think.  

JP played shortstop yesterday, filling if for a freshman who strained his hamstring.  Otherwise, JP has been playing center field and left field.  On this team, he'd probably help more playing second base regularly but his versatility is one of his strengths on the baseball field.  Always has been.  

I'd like to JP pitch because I think he could help the team that way.  For whatever reason, though, his coach doesn't seem to see him as a pitcher.  Generally, he has good control and yesterday, our boys walked several hitters.  While JP won't overpower anyone, he generally throws strikes and pitches to contact.  Selfishly, as a father, I'd just like to see him on the mound again to see what he could do. 

At the plate, JP walked the first time up.  He battled in his second at bat, falling behind ini the count early before working it back to 3-2.  After fouling a couple of pitches off, he hid a sharp grounder in the hole at shortstop, scoring a run.  He was thrown out at first in a relatively close play.  It was a quality at bat and I was proud of him.

The boys plays David Lipscomb again this afternoon and I'll be there, at least for part of the game.  I'll leave early most likely because I teach tonight.  

Elijah Luc, whom I coached for several seasons.  One of my all time favorite boys, hands down.

JP's number one fan at yesterday's game.

Two men currently in the witness protection program.

How to Become a Regular in Seven Days

Yesterday evening, before an outstanding dinner at Cafe Tango on 30A, a couple of friends reached out to us to find out when we're planning on leaving for home.  They pointed out that there is a significant weather event headed through the south today - straight line winds, tornados, hail, heavy rain - and that it was supposed to hit Alabama by midday.  The concern was our getting caught in a traffic jam somewhere on the interstate in Alabama in the middle of a severe storm.

Jude and I talked about it and, initially, decided to pack last night and leave early this morning in an effort to beat traffic and the storm.  On a lark, I reached out to the owners of our house, Beyond the Sea, and asked it we could extend our stay by a day and leave Sunday.  Quickly, they responded that we could and here we are with an extra day in Santa Rosa Beach.  

It brings to mind the one other time that Jude and I extended out stay by a day, many years ago, when we were staying with JP in Another Happy Day, the first house we rented in Old Florida Village.  The reason for that extension?  We were desperate to finish a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle.  I'm not joking.  We stayed another day and got close but still didn't manage to finish the puzzle.  We still laugh about it.

Of course, as is always the case, the morning you leave the beach (or are supposed to leave) is always the prettiest morning of your stay.  Today is no exception.  Although it's a little windy, as it has been all week, it's a gorgeous 30A spring morning.  It sure doesn't look like bad weather is on the way.  Without our luck, the weather pattern will be delayed a day or it won't arrive here until tomorrow morning and we'll be pulling out of town in a storm.  Still, one more day at the beach is one more day at the beach.

I'm having coffee this morning, again, at my new place, Black Bear Bread Company, in Grayton Beach.  It's closer than Ama Vida, the coffee is just as good, and the atmosphere is better.  It's in a small development called The Shops of Grayton Beach.  Two small buildings, connected by a breezeway with outside seating.  A coffee shop, sandwich shop, and a small bar serving specialty drinks, Bloody Mary's, mimosas, beer, and wine.  It has a good vibe, too, which I like in coffee shop.

The staff already has begun to recognize and greet me, mostly because I bring my own coffee mug.  Of course, it may be my disturbing mustache - see, e.g. Sam Elliott - that makes me stand out enough to be remembered, as well.  It's a conversation piece, if nothing else, as evidenced but the humorous exchange I had with a more heavily mustachioed man and his wife as we were leaving lunch yesterday at Stinky's Bait Shack.  

I told him the guy that when my mustache grew up, it wanted to look like his.  He laughed and laughed, as his wife should her head sadly.  Jude walked up and both wives commiserated about how ridiculous their husbands looked with mustaches.  Jude is still not happy with the mustache, a gift I gave her last month for our 22nd anniversary.  

I diverge because this morning, I was thinking about a conversation Jude and I had last night.  The question that started our conversation was an interesting one.

Could we retire on a distant day in the future and live here, in Santa Rosa Beach, full time?

Jude immediately said yes.  I wasn't so sure.  It's interesting because for many years, I would have been an instant yes, too.  It's hard for me to imagine being retired at all, to begin with.  It's even harder for me to imagine being retired and leaving Nashville to move to the beach.  

My early mornings this week spent at Black Bear Bread Company are proof that I could quickly find a favorite coffee shop or two, a favorite restaurant or bar, and become a regular.  That's important to me for some reason.  I think it's the almost daily interaction with other human beings who are in my orbit.  Not family or close friends but other humans that I see regularly and with whom I exchange pleasantries.  It makes me feel alive.

I don't think I'm capable of living in relative anonymity.  A part of me needs consistent interaction with acquaintances and almost friends.  Why?  I'm not sure.

I would love the weather and, more importantly the beach an ocean.  I would love to be able to run on the 30A bike path or nearby trails every day.  I think I would enjoy integrating myself into a neighborhood like Old Florida Village, a mixture of residence and short-term rentals.  We would find a Catholic Church to attend, I know.  

Still, I'm not sure I could completely give up the semi-cosmopolitan aspect of living in a medium sized city like Nashville.  A varied restaurant scene.  A plethora of coffee shops.  Professional and college sports.  My friends.  Live music.  All of it.  

I think Jude could easily give up all of that, partly because she doesn't gravitate to those types of things like I do.  We're different in that way.

For me, today, I find myself thinking of my mom's longtime neighbors and friends, Evelyn and Bill Pilkinton - may God rest their souls.  They lived in the house in Brenthaven, next door to my mom (and later, in a condominium) for half of the year and lived in Florida for the other half of the year.  They were very active in both places until very late in life.  Spring an summer in Brentwood and fall and winter in Florida.  That I could do, I think.

A quick recap of yesterday as the coffee shop fills up with families - pickle ball at the park.  Jude and finally got a game off the boys, although they beat us three straight after our one win.  A bike ride to Stinky's Fish Camp for lunch.  Watching the Vols beat Texas in the SEC basketball tournament.  A three mile run on the Longleaf Trail for me.  Dinner at Cafe Tango and when we got back to Old Florida Village, Joe's first driving lesson in the golf cart.  Hilarious and slightly frightening.  

The best of days during the best of weeks.