Well, it happens to me every once in a while, and it happened last night. Every so often, the Lord decides to give me a healthy dose of perspective. Some are more monumental than others, some are more life-altering than others, but one thing they all have as a common thread is to get me to re-focus on what's important in a particular area of my life.
I have to preface this story by giving a little background. For the last 5 years, I have coached my son, Stephen, in Little League. In my opinion, baseball is the greatest game on the planet, bar none. Even though I'm AD/HD, I don't mind that it's a slow game. In fact, I think anyone who truly understands baseball respects the gamesmanship and strategy that makes it a slow game. I live by the clock every day of my life, so it's a relief, even therapy, for me to go to the ballpark and revel in a competition that is not bound by the constraints of time. That, however, is another topic altogether.
I count it a privilege to teach this game that I love so much to the next generation, so I stay determined year after year to make baseball a positive experience for the boys that I'm entrusted with. I have always treated each and every kid with respect and encouragement, and feel that after each game and after each practice that these guys need to leave the field feeling better about themselves than they did before. Our kids get beat down enough by their peers and society in general, and they shouldn't get it from their Little League coach.
However, I like to win. I LOVE to win. Winning is fun. Losing is not so fun, or so I thought until last night. In our previous 4 years, the other dads that I've coached with and I have gotten our share of wins. We've never gone undefeated, but we've always been middle of the pack at least, and even won a divisional championship last year. But alas, this year has been DREADFUL in the win/loss department. We currently sit at 0-11, with 3 left to play. My frustration and desperation has been growing steadily with each loss, and I have beaten myself up mercilessly over our putrid record.
My parents this year have been AWESOME. They have been so encouraging and supportive, and for that I will be forever grateful. But I know that it's frustrating to come to each game and leave with yet another loss. We've come close, and the Dirtbags have played their hearts out, but we just seem to come up short.
Our game last night had every semblance of being the same. We were playing the #1 team in the league, and while I wasn't conceding a loss, I saw this as an opportunity to play some kids in positions that they've never played before, namely pitcher. I went into the game with the plan of using a different pitcher every inning, two of which had never pitched before.
Well needless to say, the game pretty much went as expected. They pitched their ace, which held us to no runs in two innings, while they scored the maximum allowed (6 per) in the same two innings. Down 12-0, I felt myself slipping into the same melancholy that had accompanied every contest to this point.
But then something happened. Not to overdramatize this, but I went over the dugout, and took a long look at this group of boys that I've been preaching at all year to play like champions and play with heart. Amid my bad mood, I looked and saw these guys smiling. SMILING. At 12-0! What do they have to smile about? Then it dawned on me: these guys were HAVING FUN. They were laughing and joking and cheering on their teammates.
My whole perspective changed. These 8 and 9 year old boys, while disappointed that they were losing, were having a BLAST playing the game that I love so much. As the game progressed, we made a run in the last two innings, scoring 9 runs. We had our bleachers full of parents and fans, cheering wildly for each of our guys that crossed the plate. Every member of our team high-fived and cheered each player as they returned to the dugout. I was simply speechless.
We came up short on the scoreboard, but I've never seen a bigger group of winners in my life. They never gave up, and left that field knowing that they laid it all out. I gave game balls to the two pitchers who have never pitched in a game before, and the look in their eyes and the smiles on their faces made me realize once again why I do this every year.
I was reminded once again that baseball's not about us coaches, wins and losses, or even the league. It's about life lessons that are taught by those boys that left the field last night with a glint in their eye and a smile on their faces, knowing that they played like CHAMPIONS.
I have to preface this story by giving a little background. For the last 5 years, I have coached my son, Stephen, in Little League. In my opinion, baseball is the greatest game on the planet, bar none. Even though I'm AD/HD, I don't mind that it's a slow game. In fact, I think anyone who truly understands baseball respects the gamesmanship and strategy that makes it a slow game. I live by the clock every day of my life, so it's a relief, even therapy, for me to go to the ballpark and revel in a competition that is not bound by the constraints of time. That, however, is another topic altogether.
I count it a privilege to teach this game that I love so much to the next generation, so I stay determined year after year to make baseball a positive experience for the boys that I'm entrusted with. I have always treated each and every kid with respect and encouragement, and feel that after each game and after each practice that these guys need to leave the field feeling better about themselves than they did before. Our kids get beat down enough by their peers and society in general, and they shouldn't get it from their Little League coach.
However, I like to win. I LOVE to win. Winning is fun. Losing is not so fun, or so I thought until last night. In our previous 4 years, the other dads that I've coached with and I have gotten our share of wins. We've never gone undefeated, but we've always been middle of the pack at least, and even won a divisional championship last year. But alas, this year has been DREADFUL in the win/loss department. We currently sit at 0-11, with 3 left to play. My frustration and desperation has been growing steadily with each loss, and I have beaten myself up mercilessly over our putrid record.
My parents this year have been AWESOME. They have been so encouraging and supportive, and for that I will be forever grateful. But I know that it's frustrating to come to each game and leave with yet another loss. We've come close, and the Dirtbags have played their hearts out, but we just seem to come up short.
Our game last night had every semblance of being the same. We were playing the #1 team in the league, and while I wasn't conceding a loss, I saw this as an opportunity to play some kids in positions that they've never played before, namely pitcher. I went into the game with the plan of using a different pitcher every inning, two of which had never pitched before.
Well needless to say, the game pretty much went as expected. They pitched their ace, which held us to no runs in two innings, while they scored the maximum allowed (6 per) in the same two innings. Down 12-0, I felt myself slipping into the same melancholy that had accompanied every contest to this point.
But then something happened. Not to overdramatize this, but I went over the dugout, and took a long look at this group of boys that I've been preaching at all year to play like champions and play with heart. Amid my bad mood, I looked and saw these guys smiling. SMILING. At 12-0! What do they have to smile about? Then it dawned on me: these guys were HAVING FUN. They were laughing and joking and cheering on their teammates.
My whole perspective changed. These 8 and 9 year old boys, while disappointed that they were losing, were having a BLAST playing the game that I love so much. As the game progressed, we made a run in the last two innings, scoring 9 runs. We had our bleachers full of parents and fans, cheering wildly for each of our guys that crossed the plate. Every member of our team high-fived and cheered each player as they returned to the dugout. I was simply speechless.
We came up short on the scoreboard, but I've never seen a bigger group of winners in my life. They never gave up, and left that field knowing that they laid it all out. I gave game balls to the two pitchers who have never pitched in a game before, and the look in their eyes and the smiles on their faces made me realize once again why I do this every year.
I was reminded once again that baseball's not about us coaches, wins and losses, or even the league. It's about life lessons that are taught by those boys that left the field last night with a glint in their eye and a smile on their faces, knowing that they played like CHAMPIONS.
