Mind Game

Exam season is upon JP, starting today at MBA.  It's a lot of pressure, for sure, but JP has put the work in, and he will keep putting the work in, to get to the finish line.  Still, I said a quick prayer for him this morning because I know it's a lot.  

Next year, in seventh grade, Joe will have his first exam season in December.  For now, though, Joe is living the life of Riley as a sixth grader at USN.  P.E.  Recess.  Lunch.  Field trips.  All of the fun stuff.  I've encouraged him to especially enjoy the end of the school year with his friends because this is the end of the line for his group.  I'll write more about his later, I know, but Joe's been with his group for seven years.  That will change next year, just as it did for JP's crew, when the boys split off to go to different schools.  

JP races tonight in the Region at MBA.  He's running the 800 in what I know will be a fast field.  I hope he runs his best race.

Tuesday, he ran the 3200 in the Region, also at MBA.  Jack Wallace ran away with the race, as he finished it in a blistering 9:05 +, .27 off the school record set last year by Samuel Trumble.  Thomas Arender finished a distant second, although he ran with Jack the first three laps or so.  

In reality, it was two races.  Jack and Thomas ran one race.  JP, Gabe, Clark Steffen, and a few others ran the second race.  JP led the second group from the inside lane the entire race, which was tough to do from a tactical standpoint.  In my mind, it's harder to lead a race of any distance wire to wire, particularly when your competition tucks in right behind you and runs on your hip the entire race, which is what Gabe did.  

At the halfway point of the eighth and final lap, Gabe pulled ahead of JP and out kicked him in the end to finish in third place.  JP finished fourth.  Gabe and JP ran PR's, which was impressive.  Although the official result haven't been posted yet for some reason, I believe JP finished slightly under 9:30, which was his goal.  

It's going be fun to watch JP and Gabe compete against each other the next two years.  As I've said since last fall, they're going to make each other better runners.

Missing the Vibe

For me, it's always been a bit sad when the Belmont U. students leave for the summer.  Yes, things are less congested in the neighborhood, parking is easier, and the pace seems to slow down a bit.  What's lost, though, is the synergy that exists between denizens off the neighborhood and Belmont students.  There's a youthful, infectious energy - something that's palpable - that's created by the students when they're in school, walking across campus or through the neighborhood, or having coffee and studying in Bongo Java.

What's got mean a little down this morning - other than the rain outside and the fact that it's Monday ("'Rainy days and Mondays always get me down . . . ") - is that as I sit here in Bongo Java, sipping my coffee, the vibe is totally different than it has been all spring.  It's subdued.  Quiet, even.  The music is different, too, not the seventies songs that Michelle (Herbes) was playing every morning.  A graduate assistant for the cross country and track team, she's finished her two year tenure at Belmont and is returning home to Oregon soon.  

From what I observed, she appeared to be the catalyst for the upbeat vibe in Bongo Java this spring.  A connector that bound together the disparate group of baristas.  Today, none of the baristas or other employees are talking to each other.  As of late, they stood behind the counter, smiling and laughing, clearly enjoying each other's company and making customers feel like this was a place where you can get your day off to a good start.  Today, Michelle is gone and it's silent as a tomb.

The list of baristas who have temporarily brightened my mornings over the years is extensive.  The tough thing, though, is that working as a barista is the most temporary of jobs.  All baristas are on their way to somewhere else, to another life.  That's understandable but for someone who thrives on routing, on a certain sameness, it's not always easy to adjust.  

Over the weekend at the end of my month off social media, I connected on Instagram with Rachel (late of the Frothy Monkey), who had posted about how much she and her husband, Josh, missed their days managing Frothy Monkey.  The two of them made magic at Frothy Monkey.  For a time, it was my port in the storm on Saturday mornings when I stopped their for coffee before driving to Franklin to visit my mom at NHC Place.  She loved Frothy Monkey's cookies.  Those were tough mornings, so it was nice to visit with Josh (or Grant) on Saturday mornings, talk music or a little baseball, as I gathered myself to go see my mom.

The baristas at Bongo Java that fell in love with my boys and or family is legion.  Almost too numerous to mention, really.  I keep up with a select few on Instagram (George Dorrance, Ayla, EJ Holmes), though I never see them. 

Recently, a couple of the mainstays have left Dose, too.  It's interesting how in a small coffee shop, just one or two departures can change the vibe.  

Time to venture off into a rainy Monday, to Lebanon, to see if I can find a way to get my Tennessee Real I.D., whatever that is.   

The Captain

For reasons I won't go into - at least not here and not today - Joe's 2012 Armada club soccer team appears to be splintering at the end of the spring season.  

Earlier this spring in Cleveland, Tennessee.

Some players already were going to stop playing club soccer as they enter middle school and the academic and athletic requirements become more rigorous.  That may well be the case with Joe, as he enters 7th grade at MBA this fall.  A few others are in the same boat as Joe.

On top of that, Armada's Director, Gabe, foolishly allowed a rift to develop with Mario, the coach of Joe's team, as result of which Mario is leaving for a job as Technical Director at a newly formed soccer club.  Unless I miss my guess, many of Joe's teammates will leave Armada and follow Mario to the new soccer club.  The best player is likely to join Nashville Soccer Club's Youth Academy, which is a huge loss.  

It's unfortunate to see Joe's team break up because it's such a good group of boys and families.  The team has grown up together, in a way, in the three years that the boys have been together.  Moreover, the team has improved tremendously the last two years under Mario's tutelage.  These things happen, of course, in club or travel sports but it's the first time the boys have experienced it.

Yesterday, Joe's Armada team played their first game of a weekend tournament in Franklin.  Late in the afternoon, it appeared highly unlikely the game would be played because it pouring rain.  I drove to Honest Coffee Roasters about 4 p.m. to get some work done, still dressed for work, waiting for the call that the game was off.  Sure enough, the rain stopped and just like that, the game was on.  I changed clothes and drove over to the soccer complex on Downs Boulevard.  

I missed most of the first half, which was fine because Joe and Liam split halves in goal.  Joe usually plays goalie the second half, as was the case yesterday.  It turned out to be a beautiful early May evening to watch soccer, although it was a little nippy.  When I arrived, Armada was winning 2 - 1.  Liam warmed up Joe in goal at halftime as I talked to Liam's dad, Adam, who has become one of my all time favorite soccer friends.

Unlike the first half, Armada's opponent dominated possession most of the beginning of the second half, and Joe had quite a bit of action in goal.  He played well.  Aggressive, communicative, vocal, and in control.  It was probably the most confident I have seen him in goal this season.  Thanks to Luke's artistry, Armada scored a couple of goals midway through the second half to lead 4 - 1.  Armada added a fifth goal on a nifty pass, almost an alley-oop, from Luke to Hamed that led to goal.  

Joe got caught out of position late, having moved up almost to midfield, only to have the other team send the ball upfield quickly to a player who got behind him.  The result was an easy goal but in the end, Armada own 5 - 2 in a bit of a laugher.

The best part of the game, for me, was what happened immediately after the referee blew his whistle three times to signal the end of the game.  Joe, in his light blue goalie's jersey, sprinted from the goal to our left to midfield, arriving before any of his teammates left the field.  Why?  So he could give every teammate a handshake as he arrived at Armada's sideline.  

That, in essence, is Joe in any sport, on any team, in any athletic contest.  A leader.  The heart and soul of any team he plays on.  A connector.  Always supportive of his teammates.  I'll say it again.  A leader.

The Captain.  

I still remember the telephone call I got from Caleb, his Armada soccer team's first coach.  Before a weekend tournament in Murfreesboro, he wanted me to know he had named Joe the captain and that he was going to announce it to the team on Saturday morning at the first game.  When I asked why, he told me that Joe ran the drills for half of the group at practice, was the most vocal player and the best communicator, and that his teammates respected him.  

I was one damn proud father during that telephone call.  I was one damn proud father last night, too, watching Joe set his defense on direct or corner kickers, shout encouragement to his teammates during the game, and handle the soccer ball with poise and confidence after making stops in goal.  And, of course, watching him congratulate every teammate as they walked off the field after a solid win.

Since Mario arrived and certainly, this season, I'm not sure Joe has officially been designated the captain, although Mario always has been complementary of his leadership skills on our conversations.  He doesn't wear the captain's sleeve like he did when he played for Caleb.  Actually, no one wears the captain's sleeve so, to me, Joe is still the captain.

I don't know where Joe will go in soccer from here or, for that matter, if he will continue playing.  That really hit me for the first time a week or so ago, as Jude and I made plans for the fall and discussed Joe's course load at MBA and the time constraints he will be operating under.  If this spring is it, for Joe and this  2012 Armada team, it's been a memorable run and won I am glad I had a front row seat to watch.

The Captain.

Extra Innings

And just like that, it was over.

JP started in centerfield and batted eighth last night in MBA's junior varsity semifinal game against a loaded Christ Presbyterian Academy team.  Will Brock pitched valiantly for MBA and the game was tied, 1-1, after four innings.  He tired, though, and CPA scored two runs in the fifth, sixth, and seventh innings to win the game, 7-1.  

CPA is an older, bigger, more experienced team, especially since they started at least one varsity baseball player, Josh VanOrman, in the game.  The boys fought the entire game and, in the end, got beat by a better team.  There is no shame in that, to be sure.  All in all, it was a good season and MBA's young team, dominated by freshman, gained valuable experience that will pay off down the line.  I fully expect the core of this group to contend for state championships in 2027 and 2028.

JP couldn't quite catch a deep fly ball hit over his head, close to the wall, in dead center field, in the second inning.  The official scorer ruled it a hit but I think JP would like to have caught it.  He got turned around a bit as he tried to go back on the baseball, which happened once earlier in the season.  He's had to learn to play outfield on the fly this season as, for the most part, he's been an infielder his entire baseball career.  He's versatile, though, so he's made it work.  He's made some nice plays, too.

In his only at bat, JP struck out against a very good CPA pitcher who only allowed a couple of hits in six innings.  What I liked - no, what I loved - about the at bat was that JP went down swinging.  All three strikes were balls he swung at and, on top of that, he fouled a pitch off, too.  If memory serves, the count was 1-2 when he struck out.

JP went down swinging.

As a father, that's all I can ask for.  Step into the box against a very good pitcher, throwing hard, and get your hacks in.  Let the rest take care of itself.  In baseball and in life, that's a pretty good philosophy.  Get your hacks in and go down swinging.  

After he batted, Coach Anderson pulled JP, and Whitt went in to play centerfield.  Honestly, I was okay with that.  I very much appreciated that Coach Anderson started JP and got him an at bat.  Whitt is a good ballplayer, had family there, too, and deserved to play.

JP had quite a contingent of fans there to support him.  Jude, Joe, Jane, Jim, Tracy, Alice, Jerry, and me, all  sitting in camping chairs along the fence between the bleachers and MBA's third base dugout.  Gavin O'Heir sat with us, as well, entertaining everyone with his banter.  Of all of the friends I've made watching JP play baseball, he's probably my favorite.  Boston born and bred, I feel like I've known him all of my life.

It was a good, suspenseful high school baseball game.  

For me, it wasn't about that game.  It was about the hundreds of games that came before it.  Fields 4 and 5 at Harpeth Hills Church of Christ in WNSL's Wookie league with me on one knee, pitching to four and five year old boys, including JP.  Machine pitch games in Warner Park on fields 2, 3, and 4 in the Rookie League.  Kid pitch baseball, also on fields 2, 3, and 4 in the Minor League.  Big boy baseball on regulation fields - 1 and 5 and Warner Park - in the Major League and the Prep League.

And, of course, All-Star games and travel baseball games in ballparks all over Middle and East Tennessee.  

Brutally hot summer days in June and July and cold nights in October.  Coaching in so many different dugouts, followed the last few years by camping chairs and quiet conversation as I watched JP play for other coaches.  All of it.  

And just like that, it was over.

Surprisingly, this morning I feel relieved more than sad.  I realize that will probably change.  Perhaps it's because JP tweaked his knee coming out of the box on a ground ball Friday night, so much so that he cut his running workout short on Saturday morning.  I think he's okay.  Still, it was a reminder of where he feels like his focus should be now, and that's running. Cross country and track.

What makes me happy is he left baseball on his terms.  His choice, not someone else's.  And, as I said, he went down swinging.  

I'm so proud of JP.  Great teammate.  Hard worker.  Quiet leader.  Competitive.  Courageous.  All of those things and so much more.

After the game, I thanked Coach Anderson as I shook his hand.  "JP's a great boy," he said.  "A pleasure to coach."  Yes, he is.  

And just like that, it was over.

It's time to move on, it's time to get going, what lies ahead I have no way of knowing.

- Tom Petty

No. 1 Seed

MBA's Junior Varsity team is young.  9 freshman, 4 sophomores, and 1 junior.  The freshman can really play, which has caused me to think all season long that when they in a couple of years, MBA is going to have an outstanding baseball team.  I could be wrong but I suspect they will compete state championships in 2027 and 2028.  

As I've discovered, the end of a season in high school sports is bittersweet.  I recall feeling this way at the end of baseball season last year and at the end of cross country season this year.  Just when you really start to get to know the parents, and the boys, the season suddenly ends.  To an extent, that's probably what the entire 4-year experience of high school with each of our boys will be like for us.  

After being rained out Friday evening, the boys played another archival, Father Ryan, yesterday afternoon at CPA.  JP started and played center field, as Whitt pitched.  If it were a hockey game, I would describe it as a chippy contest.  Both dugouts chirped at each other throughout the game.  Father Ryan's pitcher set the tone in the second inning when he caught a comebacker and rather than throw the ball to first base for an easy out, he raced the batter up the baseline and stepped on first base himself, turning back an sneering in the process.

An inning or so later, Whitt, pitching by far his best game of the season, did almost exactly the same thing.  He added a twist, however, giving the baserunner the peace sign as he beat him to the bag on a ball hit right back to him.  Unbeknownst to me, that's Tyreke Hill's (Dolphins' receiver) signature move when he streaks past a defender for a touchdown.  That got Father Ryan's dugout going.  After one of their players yelled "Billy Badass," MBA's dugout responded in kind.  Archrivals.

A couple of innings later, Whitt "sworded" a Father Ryan batter after he struck him out to end the inning, so Coach Anderson pulled him.  I love Whitt's competitiveness but he probably needs to channel it more effectively.  He's a funny kid, though, and a real competitor.  I enjoy watching him play baseball.  

It was a real pitcher's duel to be sure, as the 1-1 score held up through all seven innings.  JP was at the plate in the bottom of the seventh with two outs when Bennett was picked off first base for the second time in the game.  JP walked in a good at bat early, then later grounded out.  He made a nice play in the top of the seventh inning in center field, ranging far to his left to catch a fly ball.  I thought it might carry but he judged it perfectly.

The game ended in a tie.  MBA won a coin flip and got the overall #1 seed.  The boys play CPA on Monday night.  Here we go.

The Last Out

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the end of things.  

As Joe finishes 6th grade in less than 30 days, our family's time at University School of Nashville will end.  11 years in total between JP and Joe.  Really good years, too, at a place where our boys have been nurtured and seen.  It's been quite a run.

Although it's been in the works for a while, Harris Baseball Club and Harris Training are coming to an end.  The boys have played travel baseball for HBC the last few years.  Brian's lease ended and the building was sold, as a result of which the facility on Wilhagen Road, off Murfreesboro Road, where the boys have trained and practiced so many times, is closing.  

JP's baseball season ends this weekend with the junior varsity tournament.  Although you never know, it's quite possible JP's won't play competitive baseball again after this weekend.  As I've written, that's a bitter pill for me to swallow in so many ways.  It's almost unfathomable for me to imagine a spring or summer when JP is not playing baseball.  

Yesterday was the last game of the regular season for JP's team.  A home game vs. Brentwood Academy.  He started and played centered field.  In his only at bat, he struck out.  What was really cool, though, was that JP got to pitch in a key spot.  

I was so happy for him because he hasn't pitched much at all the last couple of years, playing on the junior varsity team.  It's been an adjustment for him, and for me, since he's always been a pitcher.  A good one, too.  Great control although not a ton of velocity.  The 75 pitch complete game he threw in a 1-0 loss to David Lipscomb in the last tournament game as an 8th grader was a game I will never forget.  

Yesterday, Coach Anderson brought him in from center field to pitch in the top of the 4th inning, with runners on second and third and one out.  On a 2-1count, Brentwood Academy called a suicide squeeze.  The hitter go the bunt down, which JP fielded as the run scored.  He whirled and threw to first for the out.  Brentwood Academy got greedy, however, and the runner who had been on second base was thrown out  by MBA's first baseman as he tried to score, too.

In the top of the 5th inning, JP gave up a single to right field on a sinking fly ball down the line.  The next batter punched a line drive just past Bennett at third base, who dove to his left but couldn't come up with the ball.  Pitching against the smallest ballplayer on either team, JP quickly got top 0-2, then left a fastball out over the plate.  The hitter lined it into right center field, tying the game up at 7-7.  JP got out of the inning with no more damage and, in the end, MBA won 9-7.  Solid win.

If it's the last regular season baseball game plays, it was a pretty good way to go out.  He played center field.  He batted.  He pitched.  JP always has been the ultimate utility player, Jose Oquendo style.  There is not position he cannot play.  He made the MBA middle school "A" team as a 7th grader solely because he could play catcher.  He wasn't a catcher but he could play catcher.

At Brentwood Academy on Tuesday, JP started in center field and in his first at bat, stayed back on a 1-2 curve ball and stroked it into right field for a hit.  Unfortunately, he was doubled off when he attempted to steal second on the first pitch and the batter popped up to the second baseman.  

The batter, of course, should have been taking the first pitch since JP was stealing but so it goes.  The baseball intellect on his team isn't the highest.  Perhaps that will change as the freshman get older and mature.  Perhaps it won't.  In baseball, it's the little things that matter.

What I loved the most and what almost made me cry, though, was watching JP hustle out with a catcher's mitt to warm up the pitcher in between innings after Coach Anderson removed him from the game earlier than I would have preferred after his base hit in the second inning.  JP loves baseball and above all else, he loves being part of a team.  He's a leader and the ultimate team player. 

Lately, I've been flooded - literally flooded - with memories of JP and baseball.  Throwing with him on the strip of grass at Mt. Gilead Baptist Church (gone now) across from our old house after dinner, before dark.  

Throwing batting practice to him in the cages at Harpeth Hills Church of Christ and Warner Park.

Running practices and coaching games for his team with Chris Taylor, Randy Kleinstick, Will Wright, and Tony Weeks.  I miss those days terribly and will cherish the memories forever.

Celebrating the 11U state championship with JP and the rest of the Dodgers in Lawrenceburg and smiling as JP was handed his all-tournament trophy.  

Hitting JP fungoes at Rose Park so many times.  Doing the same on the baseball field at Sewanee whenever we visited.  

Those memories are front and center this week along with so many more.  Too numerous to write about, really. 

Last Sunday, JP and Joe asked me to go with them to the facility (Harris Baseball Training) to throw some batting practice.  Of course, I went.  I did so, though, with a heavy heart, knowing that it might be my last time to throw batting practice to JP.  Brian has begun to dismantle and remove some of the gear there, which made me even more nostalgic for baseball days gone by.  

Spending an hour or so with JP and Joe, throwing batting practice and talking baseball, with no one else around.  Listening to reggae on the Brian's Turtle Box.  Just putting in some work.  It was, maybe, a perfect way to bookend so many years of baseball with JP.  I think the end of all of that is here, this week.

Last night in the first tournament game, JP didn't play against Ensworth.  I was disappointed, for him but not for me.  I want to go out playing, not sitting.  

Still, it was a fabulous game, a 4 - 2 MBA win that Aidan punctuated after the game ending strikeout by looking into the Ensworth dugout and furtively putting his index finger to his lips.  Just for an instant.  Shhhh.  No one saw it but me and I loved it because, as usual, the Ensworth dugout had been obnoxious. 

Incidentally, I sat beside and talked the entire game with the grandfather of Ensworth's center fielder (Cooper).  He's 78, a retired dentist and Detroit native.  He was in a wheelchair, as he's fighting pancreatic cancer.  It was such a blessing to sit with in and talk baseball.  The 1969 Tigers.  The 1984 Tigers.  World champions, both.  Life is beautiful at the most unexpected times.  His name is John and his daughter (Cooper's mother) is Stacy.  

When Chris Taylor texted me to see if JP was running in the Great Eight at David Lipscomb, I felt a little guilty for briefly wishing I was there, with JP, instead of watching a baseball game in which he wasn't playing.   

All good things must come to an end, I know.  Never say never, of course, but it's probably time.  

My life has been enriched beyond measure over the years by sharing the game of baseball with my sons.  God has blessed me with two boys who love baseball - and all sports, really - like I do.  What an incredible gift I've been given.  I wouldn't change a second of the time I've spent with JP, baseball gloves on our left hands.  Throwing.  Fielding.  Hitting.  Talking.  All of it, a gift.  

WNSL Dodgers forever.

 

 

Slumping

Baseball can be a cruel game.  Maybe the cruelest, when you're slumping at the plate.  Unfortunately, that's where both of my boys find themselves as their school baseball seasons wind down.

For Joe, it's been a lost year.  Completely.  Coaching has been, for the most part, non-existent.  The talent level on the team is marginal, which is not a surprise.  It's USN, after all.  They're so thin at pitcher that as a 6th grader, Joe has been pitching regularly against 8th graders.  The boys have not improved from the beginning of the season to now which, to me, is the clearest indicator that the coaching is subpar.

Yesterday, USN lost 21 - 0 to MBA's A team.  Joe played catcher, a position he hasn't played in over two years.  How did Joe do?  Not well but I was as proud of him as I've ever been because he fought and battled under adverse conditions.  He was tough and he was a leader.  

Nico - whom I coached for years - pitched a disastrous couple of innings.  Nico is not a pitcher.  He hasn't pitched and he doesn't pitch.  Still, I was proud of Nico, too, because he didn't give up.  He fought and battled, just like Joe.  

At the plate, Joe was completely overmatched, as were most of his teammates.  He struck out against a heavyset left hander throwing BB's for MBA.  Legitimate pitcher.  Probably the toughest U'SN has faced all season.  Honestly, I think the kid could pitch for JP's junior varsity MBA team.  

JP's team beat Ensworth - finally - 15 - 4, after losing the first two games for the series.  Tuesday, the boys lost a heartbreaker, 8 - 9.  After falling behind 0 - 9, they rallied in the last couple of innings and had bases loaded in the bottom of the 7th with two out.  Their last batter flew out to the left fielder, Tom Courtney (Children's House), to end the game.  

Yesterday, JP was hitless.  The first at bat, he struck out after looking at three called strikes, which is unusual for him.  The next at bat, he grounded out to second base with runners in scoring position.  In his third at bat, he struck out again.  He's slumping late, which is difficult fo him.  I know he wants to finish this season on a high note.  I want that for him desperately, too.  Not for me but for him.  

JP made a couple of plays in center field, though, and threw out a runner at third base.  I'm hoping his defense, base running, and leadership keep him in the lineup as the regular season winds down next week and through the tournament.  

After his game, I took Joe to Blue Moon Waterfront Grill at Rock Harbor Marina.  It's been many years, literally, since I've been there.  I was shocked at how different the restaurant and bar looked when Joe and I walked in until the hostess pointed out that the old restaurant and bar flooded, then washed away in the flood in 2010.  15 years + since I've been to Blue Moon?  Wow.

Joe and I had a nice early dinner on the water, eating out and talking.  As always, Joe was a good hang.  

When we got home, JP was packing for a lock-in at Cathedral on West End Avenue, the Catholic church in which Jude and I were married.  

These boys and this life.