At the Seasons End

Congratulations are in order. Pop the Cokes, shake the Gatorade, toss sunflower seeds in the air.

Our Cardinals’s secured first place in the National league last night, and the overall top seed in the playoffs with an 8-4 with a win over the Twins. As a result we nabbed a league best 8-3 record. It’s a moment like this that you hope for as a kid. It’s a moment like this you yearn for as a coach. The opportunity to be the best overall team and win a championship as a team. That’s what we are. A team. And every last player on the Cardinals is an integral part in the success of our 2015 season. As parents and coaches we are proud of what they have accomplished. But it’s the first of three steps, and now we move on to the playoffs.

Our 8-3 record has not been easy. All but one of our games has been close and our Cardinals have persevered due to great defense, smart in-game decisions and timely hitting. It’s this tough road that has shaped this team into a playoff ready—nerves of steel—never quit—bring it on attitude that is perfect for a long run in the playoffs. Each team that makes the playoffs has the opportunity to win it all so we’ll have to stay focused in order to come out again on top. We have to stay true to what has gotten us here, and I know that if we are at our best with our full team. There is nobody that we cannot beat. Our first playoff game is this Saturday versus the Mets. It’s fitting that we are playing the Mets. They beat us twice this year. The certainly have our number.

Another tough game? I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Jenny Craig? Hack.

Weight Watchers? Ponzi scheme.

Crossfit? Waste of time.

21-Day Fix? Forget it.

Want to lose weight? Coach little league baseball. More specifically coach WAA Cardinals little league baseball. After Saturday’s game I think I lost 10 pounds. The stress of these close games is having me consider placing a puke bucket outside the dugout for me to use between innings. The kids, of which my son Aaron is included, sure know how to make a ball game interesting. With something to prove and first place on the line, the Cardinals fought back and held on to win another close game 7-6 verses the D’Backs. After almost giving the game away again to the D’Backs, the bats finally came alive in the fifth and it was perfect timing. The kids are learning from their mistakes, smiling, having fun and as coaches we could not be more proud. With only two games left, and a record of 7-3, we control our own destiny. If we win out, first place is ours, and I’m confident of our chances.

Sharks

Baseball is a game of failure.

70% of the time the games best players fail when trying to hit the ball. Players record errors on the field. Make bad pitches and throws. What’s important to understand is that every next at-bat, pitch or time on defense is an opportunity to make a play that’s positive. The trick is for players to not look back, to have a short memory when it comes to failure. For they’ll need the focus in the present to make the play when they get the next opportunity. If they’re always in the past, then failure lurks with a side helping of doubt. And since players can’t change the past, the only thing they can control is how they deal with the future.

This premise is kinda like a shark. Sharks constantly swim, and if they stop, they die. These predators lack the ability to extract oxygen from the water unless it’s forced through their side gills from their constant state of motion. The point is they never look back. Sharks are always looking forward. A timely piece of advice I gave a 10-year old on the mound after he gave up a game tying single to a batter. “Be like a shark, don’t look back. Focus on the next batter, and just throw strikes. If they hit them, they hit them. Count on your teammates to play good defense behind you.” He composed himself, got the last out and the game continued. A game we eventually won.

(I have since nicknamed him “Shark” for the rest of the season)

One of my dear friends, who I can’t thank enough, allowed me to realize the advice of the shark is not for baseball alone. It’s a good parable to carry around to reference when dealing with some everyday and not-so-everyday situations. Sometimes after you fail, it’s best to recognize it, learn from it, keep moving forward and not look back. If not, you risk suffocation under the weight of your own lack of mental strength.

A Game of Humility

Coaching baseball is my highlight of the week. With AJ. Being outside. In the warmth. In the rain. In the cold. It doesn’t matter. Away from the responsibilities of life is a welcome distraction from the weight of everything else. Instructing kids on the nuances of a game riddled with life lessons and humbling moments is a privilege that I’ve been able to maintain for the last 9 years.

Tonight is a night I will never forget. We were playing the Angels. Their head coach, Paul, is a good friend. We both attend the same church. We’ve coached together when our eldest sons (Joey and Dalton) were playing years earlier in the 9-10 league. He is honorable, respectful, and a great head coach. I’ve learned much from him.

We both longed for this game. My Rangers. His Angels. The anticipation for this game was elevated even more when Mother Nature rained out the original date postponing the game to Sunday evening.

As the away team we were up to bat first.

Their pitcher was a strike throwing fastball machine. 3 up. 3 down. They came to bat and scored 5 runs.

The 2nd inning was more of the same. 3 up for the Rangers. 3 down. Another five spot for the Angels.

At the top of the 3rd we were looking at a 0-10 deficit and no indication that anything was going to change. John the other coach and I actually discussed measures of treating the rest of the game as a learning session—if it got more out of hand, and playing kids in positions they wouldn’t normally to try to get them some experience. Not the way I was hoping the most anticipated game of the schedule was going to go down. I was hoping for a battle. Maybe a 6-6 tie going into the final inning. Tension. Nervousness. A last at bat base hit of walk-off single to close out the game. Kids piling on top of kids. No mater who won. In my mind this was to be the game of the year, and instead it was a blowout.

Then something happened. Paul replaced his ace with a pitcher who was not as strong. Our kids got on base, scored runs and we got right back in the game. In fact, at the bottom of the 4th inning the score was 10-10. A far cry from the how the game started. Now, we ended up losing 10-12, but that’s not really the story here. The story is about how the coach of the Angels didn’t pour it on. How he knew his second pitcher was not as strong but he wanted to get him in the game. Understanding the bigger picture that 9-10 year old kids having feelings that are fragile. That every ballplayer should have fun first, then win second. No matter the cost. Even in the moment I knew he was feeling this way about our game. He didn’t have to tell me. I could see it in his face. My kids left the field tonight feeling good that they battled back, not deflated because they got crushed. They didn’t give up, and had a shot to win. After the game Paul and I talked and he confirmed to me what I already suspected, and I was very grateful. Hopefully the next time our two teams meet in June the outcome will be more like he and I hoped for this game. A nail-biter to the end. Unfortunately I will be in Phoenix for work that day, and can’t be there. Unless Mother Nature intervenes again.

Humility is something the game of baseball teaches a person in spades. And they are lessons for players and coaches alike.

I will miss it when AJ grows up and it’s gone.

Tuesday’s Ghost Story

I did something today I have never done before.

I read a book cover to cover
in one night.

Um…what?

The magnitude of this event was smacked clear when Aaron, my youngest looked at me and with blatant honesty and said, “Dad, you’re actually reading a book? Really?” Normally I’d chalk his response up to his highly developed sense of sarcasm, but he was totally serious. He’s right, I don’t read. At least not recreational reading. Most of my in-progress book are marketing, creative, or advertising focused. I sneak a few pages here or there mostly on my ipad Kindle app. I have 3 or 4 books that I could say I am “in the middle of reading”, but have not finished any of them. I’m not opposed to reading. In fact, I quite like it. I just don’t have the time. So finish a book in one day? Um, no.

(To steal a line from @gerlock: I swear I don’t even know who I am anymore.)

The book I read tonight was Mitch Album’s For One More Day. It’s one part ghost story, one part baseball, and lot of parts reconciliation that details the life of Chick Benetto. On the day of his failed attempted suicide he spends one day with his mother that had been dead for almost a decade. It’s a fast read, gets you thinking about mortality and the choices one makes during a lifetime. The book had me in tears during some sections more often than I care to admit. Sure I would love one more day with my Father, or Grandma Mayernik. I am not sure what I’d say, or what they’d think about the choices I’ve made during my life, but would love one final day. My friend Courtney gave me the book just this afternoon. She knows that I’m a Detroit guy and that Mitch Albom is a Detroit Columnist, she knew I’d like the book and she was right. Courtney had no idea that I was just thinking about this book a few days earlier. Let’s just say the book was already top of mind.

…and for once I could not put a book down. Yep I read a book cover to cover.

(I don’t even know who I am anymore, and maybe that’s the point)

Happy 12.12.12.

The Hunt for October.

If you read this blog or know me you know this: I love baseball.

You’ll also know that my hometown team is the Detroit Tigers.

The Tigers were swept in the World Series tonight by the San Francisco Giants, 4-3 in 10 innings. A heartbreaking loss to a terrific season. Rather unlikely ending for a team that was so dominant in baseball this year in the playoffs. Aaron, my youngest son, has been wearing his Tiger hat almost every day for the past month. Fist pumping the strikeouts. Asking for the final score in the morning before the bus came. He, like me is a fan. Game 4 was the first game that I made a point to just sit on the couch and watch. It’s been a long time since I sat and watched tv. In fact, Game 4 was my first real time spent in front of the tv in months (I listened to the first three games on the radio). And with my two boys looking on we watched and hoped for a miracle that would never come.

As Miguel Cabera struck out, Aaron, with the beginnings of tears, took his hat off and slammed it to the couch.

I put the hat back on his head and said, “Put your hat back on. Wear it proudly. The Tigers did good this year, but it wasn’t meant to be. They’ll get ’em next year.”

AJ smiled, hopped off the couch, hat on head, and I followed him to his room. He placed his Tiger hat on top of his piggy bank perch located on his dresser and climbed into bed. We said prayers, and I turned out the light.

See you in April Tigers. We will be waiting and watching for the hunt next year.

Where the Dandelions Grow

“I want to be pitcher.

Put me in.

I can do it.

Okay then let me play first base.

I want the ball.”

This was me in 1984 as a 10-year old. I would ask my Father who was the head coach of my little team these words all game, every game. He never gave in.

I am pictured in the team photo to the left. I’m standing in the back row on the right. One of my most important people in this world is also in this photo. My buddy Chuck is standing in the back row on the left. (Chuck is quick to point out that this is probably the last time we were the same height). Unfortunately my parents were in Europe the day this photo was taken, so my Father is not in it.

As for the baseball season, I never got special treatment as the coaches son. Rather, I was placed where my strengths were best amplified. Occasionally in the infield, but mostly in the outfield. I still remember kicking up dirt, picking dandelions and paying attention to the roar of parents on another field after a run scoring single or double.

Then it happened:

Left field.

Pop fly.

I got underneath it.

Caught the ball.

And the parents on our field cheered for me. Including my Father.

I have loved the outfield ever since, and had no desire to be pitcher after that year. My Father had it right. As a head coach he knew my strength. He knew way before I realized what I was good at, and how I could best help the team.

“I want to be pitcher.

Put me in.

I can do it.

Okay then let me play first base.

I want the ball.”

Now as a baseball coach for 9 years myself I hear the words all the time.
And each time I think back to my Father and I smile.

Angels in the Infield.

The game of baseball never ceases to amaze me. I have been a baseball coach in the Webster Athletic Association (WAA) for the last 9 years (we’ll if my math is right) and I thought I have seen it all. Sometimes as the assistant, but most times as head coach. I’m fortunate to have two sons who love to play, and a daughter who tried to like the game for at least one year. My only year coaching Rebekah the game of baseball was a special time, and one I will never forget. Now that Joey, my oldest, is done playing my focus is on AJ. It’s nice getting to go back to a 9-10 age group where the focus of the game is still on development. Yes we keep score, but I feel my job as head coach is to have these kids leaving this year with a bigger passion of baseball in their hearts, to learn about the why of the game, to build character, to have fun and want to come back next year. Sure I’d like to win games along the way, but for me the focus is on the process and development, not the final standings.

One nice by-product of Joey no longer playing baseball is that I get to have him in the dugout with me. He is my official scorekeeper. Now Joey gets to learn a whole different aspect of the game, and it’s a pleasure seeing him there in his new role. Last Wednesday we had a game on feild #2. The Rockies pounded us pretty good. It was cold. Rainy. I got there late because of a work commitment with the local newspaper, but I could see our kids still had fun. After the game my son Joey learned that part of his new role is to help cover the field at the end of the game. We covered field #2 with the tarp to protect it from the rain.

Fast forward to Saturday. We (the Angels) had a game versus the Twins in the morning and the league President pulled me aside beforehand and said he was going to give a special presentation before the game, to our team, to me and one of my players, but he did not say why. Tom, our league President proceeded to tell everyone over his loud speaker that last Wednesday he witnessed something special. He witnessed one of my players, Mikah, and their Mom covering field #1 thus protecting it from the rain. Now, keep in mind we did not play on field #1. We played on Field #2, but Mikah saw that it needed to be done and took the initiative to cover the field. Mom got dragged out to help and Tom witnessed the whole thing and was left amazed. As a result, Tom called me to join him on the pitchers mound. Called Mikah to join us as well and then proceeded to said some very nice things while telling the tale of Mikah and Mom covering feild #1. He also presented our entire team with an ice cream party from the local parlor and gave a special New York Yankees caramel apple specifically for Mikah to celebrate the good deed.

Pretty cool. I was a proud head coach for sure.

Mikah is a special player who is smart and always thinking about the game. Hits well. Has a great arm, can pitch, hit, is an all around solid player and is one of the best on the team. Oh, I should also mention that she is a girl and the only girl in the league at that. I am fortunate that my other boys on the team don’t treat her any different. I certainly don’t. I expect the same things from her as I do them. The only difference is she always steps up and exceeds my expectations, not because she has something to “prove” in a game filled with boys, but because at her core Mikah is an all-around good kid and one that I am glad to have on my team. I am convinced that whatever she does she will excel. She’s just one of those types of kids.

I also appreciate Mikah’s sarcasm. During our first scrimmage when I asked if there was anyone who wanted to play the position of catcher she raised her had first. When I asked if she was wearing a cup (a league requirement) she responded with a quick smile filled “Um, No… I don’t need one coach.”

Yep Mikah, I guess you don’t.

Beating Heart Baby.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Right? Isn’t that the saying? If that’s the case, the month of June has turned me into Superman.

I have had more blood pumped through the chambers of my heart over the past three weeks than I have in years. And no need to bring out the small violins to play for me. I like it, and it feels pretty good too. I like that my June has challenged the way I think, what I knew I could handle and what I understood to be true. June has pushed the capacity of my brain. It has chewed me up, spit me out and smacked what remained with a folding chair to the back followed by a swan dive off the top turnbuckle. In all, I came out the other side feeling more alive than I have in awhile, and in part I have baseball to thank for it.

Today’s playoff game was a heartbreak. We took a one run lead into the bottom of the seventh. Lost that lead, forced extra innings. Took a four run lead into the bottom of the eighth only to see the game winning run scored by a bases loaded walk. A crap way to end a thrilling baseball game if you ask me, but that’s what happens sometimes. We certainly have been on the winning side of that scenario before. To complicate matters, my son Joey was on the mound and surrendered the walk that pushed across the game winning run. At the end of the game Joey took it hard. He blamed himself, and for once I had no words of baseball encouragement to say. At that moment I was a Dad who felt heartbroken for his son. And wanted nothing more than to give him a hug, and tell him it was okay (and no I didn’t that would have been more horrifying for him being a 13 year old boy, but the thought did cross my mind). Rather, how as a coach do you console a ballplayer that feels like they were the reason they lost an extra inning playoff game? More importantly, how do you do that as a parent?

Well on the car ride back to the house we talked about that final inning. I told joey that I was proud that he asked to pitch. Joey asked for the ball knowing full well he was coming into the game with the bases already loaded with the tying and winning runs on base. He was confident about his pitching. He was confident and strong. Despite the outcome I am proud of him. At the start of the year he wanted no part of pitching. The stress of the thought of being on the mound with all eyes on him caused him to shy away. He caught the bug a few games ago when he had some success and he gained confidence. Enough confidence that he wanted the ball in the final inning of an extra inning playoff baseball game. As a parent, isn’t that all you can ask for? In reality, games are not won and lost by one singular play. (Well I guess technically they are but it’s a series of events that lead to the win or loss.) I told Joey “that as a father I am impressed by him every day of his life on the planet.” Which in turn prompted Joey to correct my grammar and say “no, it’s every day of your life… not mine.” Which I responded not that phrasing was intentional, “Every day of your life I am impressed by you.” He disagreed again and after bantering back and forth for awhile we both ended up laughing by the time we got to Route 104.

In an earlier post about baseball I talked about how every play is a potential lesson in character building. That every out or base hit a learning opportunity of sportsmanship and team play. I am going to add to that statement: These opportunities could be successes or failures. It’s how you handle yourself coming out the other side that defines who you are.

For Love of The Game

Oh my I love baseball.

I love baseball for it’s rich history. It’s design and strategy. I love that every play is a potential lesson in character building. Every out or base hit a learning opportunity of sportsmanship and team play. I have been a coach or assistant coach for my son Joey’s baseball team for the past 8 years. This will most likely be his last year of organized baseball, and for me it’s bittersweet. The realization that another chapter of parenthood with Joey is coming to a close is a hard pill to swallow. I have been cherishing each moment of this season, and nothing was more exciting than tonight’s game.

Tonight’s game will go down for me as the pinnacle game in my eight years of coaching. The ultimate highlight. This game will be talked about, romanticized, and remembered for years, and it’s games like today that reassure me that baseball is the greatest sport in America.

Today we were playing the Yankees. A pesky full throttle team that never lets up. Our kids today were ready, or so we thought. The top of the first inning was a comedy of errors. Literally. Four errors leading to four runs. We had our first ups and went down “one, two, three”. The second inning for the Yankees was a continuation of the first for the Orioles. Walk. Walk. K. Base hit, Error, Error. Overthrow. Base Hit. Walk. In an instant we were down 10 to zip. Nothing. Goose egg. The kids were deflated, frustrated, and snippy. Okay so were the coaches, and I totally felt their pain. The Yankees were pouring it on, not by good play or solid base hits, but by capitalizing on mistakes that we were making on the field. It’s one thing to get beat by a better team. It’s another to get beat by yourself. After three innings were were looking down the bat barrel of an 11-1 deficit, and frustration was at an all time high with the team. Buck, Steve (the other coaches) and I, sat the kids down on the bench before we took our turn to bat in the bottom of the third and I proceeded to speak to the kids like I have never spoken to a team before. I think this was the jist…

“Orioles! Everyone on the bench! Pay attention and listen! Baseball is supposed to be fun. I don’t see any smiling faces on this team right now. We have 12 guys on this team… we only need 9 to play so if you want to sulk and give up, them by all means leave the bench now. (uncomfortable pause) But we are not giving up today! Myself and the coaches are voulunteers. We don’t get paid to be here. We’re here because we love this game. We love this team, and we know you are better than what we see on the field right now. In fact, your parents have paid to have you here so let’s focus! Let’s have some fun, and let’s not look back at the first three innings and only look ahead. Let’s play solid head’s up baseball. Let’s stop the bleeding and let’s get back in this game.”

Thankfully no player took me up on my offer to quit. Not sure what I would have done had one of the kids called my bluff. The next three innings were as I was expecting. We played better defense, hit the ball, sole bases, and played solid fundamental baseball. And by the time we got up at the bottom of the sixth the score was 14-3. I felt good about our effort. I was proud of the kids and how they bounced back after probably the worst three innings of baseball I have seen in awhile. Now, one of the reasons why I like baseball so much is that in order to win you need to make all the outs. In the major leagues teams are required to get all 27 outs in a nine inning game. There’s no running out of a clock. No playing keep away to preserve a lead. Baseball makes you accountable to do your job if you want the win, and I like that. In little league games, teams play seven innings instead of nine, each game however does have a time limit. By the time we got up in the bottom of the sixth our time limit was very close to expiring and the sun was starting to disappear behind the treeline. I had already planted the seed with the umpire that if we had the opportunity to start the 7th inning before 8:25 that I wanted to play. Despite the 14-3 deficit. I wanted our kids to finish out the game and not give up. We did score one in the bottom of the 6th to cut the lead to 14-4 and we started the 7th and final inning.

This is how the bottom of the 7th started for our team: Base hit. Double. Walk. Base hit. Walk. Five kids up—three runs in, and one tough call at third placed us with one out and 6 runs to make up. The kids were standing on the fence, cheering, they were vocal, and more importantly, they were smiling with rally caps on. The next five kids. all got base hits. Let me stress that again. THE NEXT FIVE KIDS ALL GOT BASE HITS. Each and every hit was met with more cheering and smiling. These five hits accounted for another 5 runs. In a flash the score was 12-14, we still only had one out and we had the tying runs on base. The go ahead at the plate. After a fielder’s choice play and one base hit later we were only down by one run. Two outs. The tying run on third. The stress was amazing. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and my voice was hoarse. My kids were on their way to making the most unbelievable comeback I have ever seen. One hit, or one passed ball ties this game. Ties it! The drama was thick. The tension was high. However, the game ended with an Oriole strikeout and a Yankees win. The Yankees finally got us out but not before surrendering 9 hits, 2 walks 9 runs and the most exciting half inning in all of my 8 years of coaching. Final score: Yankees 14, Orioles 13.

I was astounded. So impressed of my team for for not quitting. So proud that Buck, Steve and I were able to coach this game. So thankful for the parents sticking with us and not revolting because we were stressed too. So happy I insisted on playing that last inning.

My kids left the field with their heads high, their spirits up, and despite the loss they left the field feeling like winners tonight. This game was a lesson in character building. It was a learning opportunity of sportsmanship and team play that i relish to share with my grandchildren some day. Even though we lost, the kids learned a valuable life lesson. They learned to never give up, because you never know. You just never know.

Oh my I love baseball.