State!

On a beautiful early November day at Sanders Ferry Park, MBA's varsity cross country lost the state championship to Chattanooga McCallie by 8 points.  Beating McCallie - the four team state champs - was always going to be a tall order.  Yesterday, it just wasn't to be for MBA or any of the other challengers from across the state.  

MBA's runner up finish was impressive with three runners in the top 12.  Jack Wallace (7), Samuel Trumble (10), and JP (12).  An eighth point deficit is not a lot, obviously, but McCallie is a strong cross country squad and there's no shame in finishing second to them in a meet that could have turned out differently with a break here or there.  

I missed the earlier race at Sanders Ferry, so it was my first trip there.  It's a beautiful park nestled along the banks of Drakes Creek in Hendersonville.  The cross country course undulates thought the park, so it's not an easy course by and stretch.  Two laps, too, which means the runners see each hill not once but twice.  

I arrived early, about 8:30 a.m., and walked part of the course.  It was chilly but not cold and I was comfortable in my joggers, pullover, and running gloves.  Most of the school has arrived and were assembling their tents and setting up camp near the starting line.  I got JP and Joe some swat - screen printed hoodies and t-shirts - and got ready to watch the varsity girls' race.

There's always a palpable feeling of nervousness - anticipation, really - before a cross country race.  You can feel it and see it on the faces of the athletes, parents, and coaches.  It was more noticeable before yesterday's race or so it seemed to me.  There was more at stake and for many athletes, it was the final race of their high school careers.  

I bumped into Jude, Joe, and he parents on the inside portion of the course after the varsity girl's race, which saw two Father Ryan young ladies finish 1 - 2.  Impressive.  Jude and her parents were comfortably ensconced in camping chairs and Joe was bouncing around the course, excited to be missing a day of school and to watch JP race.

After speaking to them for a moment, I walked up the hill and over to a pavilion with a view of the river on the back side of the course.  I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, as is my wont before JP's races.  I sat on a picnic table, closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and mediated for a few moments.  Then, after a silent prayer, I walked down to a spot I had identified at almost the one mile mark.  

A few minutes alter, I heard the starter's pistol fire in the distance, and I started the stopwatch on my Garmin.  As the leaders rounded the corner, I saw Sam Trumble running with them in a group of seven or eight.  I saw Jack Wallace, too, tall and lanky, easily distinguishable among the other runners.  Somehow, I never saw JP, Mitchell, or Gabe in the pack of runners that ran by next, still bunched up after the start.  

I hustled across to the back side hill and I was able too see JP, Mitchell, Gabe running comfortably together in what was becoming a smaller group of runner behind the leaders.  JP looked comfortable but intense.  Focused.  He looked the same when I saw him come up the hill near the finish of the first lap of the course.  No recognition as he ran by me and I yelled for him.  He stared straight ahead, running strong along with his teammates.  

One of memories I will take from this season is that of JP, Mitchell, and Gabe running side-by-side, as they did in the last three races.  There's strength in numbers in cross country races and to watch them run together, stride for stride, one senior and two freshman, was special.  I hope they remember it, too.

On the final pass across the hill before the home stretch, JP had pulled away from Mitchell and Gabe by few yards.  I ran down to the finish line and watched the leaders finish.  I leaned out to video JP's finish while I tried to avoid the runners as they rounded the final curve on the inside of the course, sprinting to the finish line 15 yards to my left.  

I saw JP running toward me, alone, with a McCallie runner trailing behind him but not gaining on him.  I yelled for JP, he flashed by, and just like that, the race was over.  

JP finished 12th in the state.  15:57.  

I walked over the finishing chute, greeted JP and the other MBA runners I bumped into, then walked away, alone in my thoughts for a few minutes.  I was proud of JP and proud of all of his teammates, too.  What a season!

After the award ceremony, I found Samuel Trumble and Mitchell Chaffin, the senior co-captains and team leaders, and shared a brief moment with them.  As my voice choked with emotion, I thanked them for their leadership, mentorship, and for showing JP the way.  They made him feel welcome this season and gave him the freedom, I think, to develop as a runner and competitor.  He looks up to both of them so much.  It's meant the world to him, I know, for Samuel and Mitchell to treat him as a peer, as a friend.  

I think Samuel and Mitchell established a bond with JP that will last long after they graduate this May.  I think - I hope - they feel good about entrusting to JP and Gabe their legacy of hard work and leadership to her passed on to other, younger MBA runners in the years to come.  In many ways, I think that's a large part of what being an MBA student and athlete is all about.  

Leadership.  Legacy.  Tradition.

I'm proud of JP and I'm proud of his teammates.  

State!

It's the morning of the State Championship Cross Country Meet at Sanders Ferry Park in Hendersonville, TN.  I'm having coffee and a quick breakfast before I head over to the park for the race.

I dropped JP off at MBA to catch the bus a few minutes ago.  On the way to MBA, we talked about it being just another race.  3.1 miles (5k) he could run anywhere.  He just happened to be running it at Sanders Ferry.  I reminded him to run his race.  Then, I said what I say to him before every race.

All you got.  

I told him I loved him and I was proud of him.  And, just like that, JP got his bag from the backseat, and walked into the school to get his gear together.  Proud.  Eager.  Ready.

As I drove through the parking lot, I saw JP's coach, Roderick Russ.  Great teacher, great coach, great family man, great guy.  I think he is as excited as I am.  It's a special group of boys.  He reminded them of that last night, at the team dinner.  He told them that no matter what happens today, it won't change the bond they will have together for the rest of their lives.  

I couldn't agree more.  Win, lose or draw, what a cross country season for JP and his teammates.

My only hope, today, is for every one of them to run his best race.

State!

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.