My favorite movie scene of all-time is in the movie Field of Dreams. I’m not much of a “cryer”, but I have been known to get all choked up over a really emotional commercial now and then. But when it comes to a true tear-jerking and powerful moment while watching television, I literally find myself choking back tears when Kevin Costner’s character says to dad, “Dad. Want to have a catch?”
I found out this past weekend that those moments can transcend time and elevate themselves to the height of making lasting memories.
My 13-year-old son Patrick plays for a 13U traveling baseball team, the Southwest Missouri Rough Riders. This is his first season to do this type of competitive baseball, but it took no time at all for him to form lifelong friends. Friends that share a common bond of our National Pastime, as well as the enjoyment of an occasional disgusting sound or smell. I get a lot of enjoyment just watching him interact with these guys on a weekly basis.
Without sounding like the touting father that I really am, Patrick had the weekend of a lifetime in Tulsa last Saturday and Sunday. My wife and I figured out that he would have hit for the cycle (a single, double, triple and homerun) if he could have added just one triple. His weekend included a mammoth 315-foot towering homerun blast and a two-out game-winning double to get the Rough Riders to the championship game. So yeah, he had a good weekend.
And I could go on and on about his play, but I will spare you any more details and do my best to keep from puffing up too much.
But it was none of these personal accolades that won the top prize for my favorite moment of the tournament weekend. Although I lost my voice cheering for him and his teammates, and went absolutely berserk a few times, those moments couldn’t even come close to the 15-minutes that rank at the top for this proud dad.
As we waited to play our semi-final game, Patrick had around 30-minutes before he and his teammates were to begin warming up and hitting some soft-toss in the batting and warm-up area. And here is where it got fun; my son looked my way and said, “Dad. Want to have a catch?”
Never had a better feeling well up in my throat, as he and I donned our gloves and spent 15-minutes of quality time. We talked, we laughed, and we tried to throw a knuckle-ball.
You see, there is a lesson to be learned here for all parents. As good as the times are watching our sons and daughters excel in their given interests, whether it be athletics, academics, music, or dance, the most important and touching times come when we engage ourselves into the middle of these talents.
So go be the proud parent as your children enjoy the gifts God has given them. But remember, what they really want is you. Your time; your love; your showing your pride in them; and sometimes, all of that comes in that simple little question, “Want to have a catch”.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Come on ref! Call it both ways!
In my time as a sports writer and a father, I can honestly say I have seen my share of high school sports coupled with many youth games. And during many of those events, I have been able to compile a list of the most interesting sayings coming from the mouths of a number of parents. As a parent myself, I am probably guilty of a few of these overly obvious words of wisdom. Let me share a few of my favorites:
* On many occasions I have heard this one as a son or daughter is standing on the mound, inevitably a parent or coach will say, “Throw strikes!” As that pitcher on the mound, the thought has to go through his/her head, “Oh! O.K.! I hadn’t considered that thought. Really wasn’t sure that was what I was suppose to be doing out here!”
* Or how about after the first strike on the batter, the words “Now you’re ready!” will be heard from outside the chained-in fence. Was the hitter not ready for any previous pitches that were thrown? Had he been hoping that at some point during the at-bat he would finally be ready?
* In basketball, one of my favorites is the phrase, “Put the ball in the bucket.” I am going to venture a guess that no basketball player has ever stepped on the court and not previously been taught that vital step in the basketball learning process. If only more of us understood to put the ball in the bucket, just think where we could be?
* And my favorite line yelled at many an umpire, referee and official: “Come on. Call it both ways!” What a revelation! And if we all were completely honest, we would have to admit that each of us has at least had the thought run through our mind. But there is always at least one bold fan willing to go there. Willing to step out of the comfort of simple “Come on ref!” statements and escalade himself into the lonliness of the obvious. Having been a baseball umpire, I can assure you that purposeful bias officiating is not a commonality in the world of sports. As I was told many times during my training processes, “After every call, half of the people will love you and the other half will yell, ‘Call it both ways!’”
So next time you find yourself at a sporting event, take a moment and consider the words that explode from the depths of one’s belly. And then stand proud and proclaim, “Come on guys! Get a win!” Duh!
* On many occasions I have heard this one as a son or daughter is standing on the mound, inevitably a parent or coach will say, “Throw strikes!” As that pitcher on the mound, the thought has to go through his/her head, “Oh! O.K.! I hadn’t considered that thought. Really wasn’t sure that was what I was suppose to be doing out here!”
* Or how about after the first strike on the batter, the words “Now you’re ready!” will be heard from outside the chained-in fence. Was the hitter not ready for any previous pitches that were thrown? Had he been hoping that at some point during the at-bat he would finally be ready?
* In basketball, one of my favorites is the phrase, “Put the ball in the bucket.” I am going to venture a guess that no basketball player has ever stepped on the court and not previously been taught that vital step in the basketball learning process. If only more of us understood to put the ball in the bucket, just think where we could be?
* And my favorite line yelled at many an umpire, referee and official: “Come on. Call it both ways!” What a revelation! And if we all were completely honest, we would have to admit that each of us has at least had the thought run through our mind. But there is always at least one bold fan willing to go there. Willing to step out of the comfort of simple “Come on ref!” statements and escalade himself into the lonliness of the obvious. Having been a baseball umpire, I can assure you that purposeful bias officiating is not a commonality in the world of sports. As I was told many times during my training processes, “After every call, half of the people will love you and the other half will yell, ‘Call it both ways!’”
So next time you find yourself at a sporting event, take a moment and consider the words that explode from the depths of one’s belly. And then stand proud and proclaim, “Come on guys! Get a win!” Duh!
Friday, April 9, 2010
It's not about how we got there
Many times I have heard the phrase, "It just don't matter how you finished, just as long as you got there." To that philosophy, which had to have come from the Ozarks, I would have to boldly disagree based on the recent events surrounding my beloved St. Louis Cardinals. Yeah, I know. We're only a few days into the season, but already it is plain to see what is going to take place come the end of October. (Now see; you can't call me a pessimist. I did put us playing into the playoffs!) And I honestly don't intend to be negative, I just see a glaring problem that has hounded us before and believe it is time to do something about it, no matter how early in April it is.
During game three of the Cardinal's season-opening series in Cincinnatti, a game St. Louis found itself going for the sweep of the Reds with newly-acquired lefty Brad Penny, a managerial move by Tony LaRussa resulted in a ninth-inning loss as the Reds used the long-ball to celebrate and give the Cardinals its first loss of the young campaign, 2-1.
So do you see the inherent problem I speak of? Was it Brad Penny and his one-run allowed seven inning gem? No. Was it the Cardinals lack of run support? Maybe, but I am going with no. Was it Tony LaRussa over-managing by bringing in late-game relief pitching? Probably, but that's the way this manager manages, and since he is the second-highest winning active manager, I think we will let that slide, as well.
The problem comes with those fellas sitting out in the fenced-in play yard who have been trained to do a "specialty". And that specialty is pitching the Cardinals to victory when handed the ball and the lead by their fielding teammates and their manager. Yet, this is the only spot that in recent years has kept us from achieving that which is most desirable in the world of baseball, a World Series championship.
I know, I sound petty and greedy. Wouldn't you rather be a known as a petty and greedy Cardinals fan rather than a "not won a pennant" Chicago Cubs fan, though?
So I say gimme, gimme, gimme. Gimme a nine-inning winner. Gimme a bonafide closer, not an upadn--comer from Memphis. And most important, gimme the right to share my opinion. Why? Because I live and die by what happens on that field for nine months!
During game three of the Cardinal's season-opening series in Cincinnatti, a game St. Louis found itself going for the sweep of the Reds with newly-acquired lefty Brad Penny, a managerial move by Tony LaRussa resulted in a ninth-inning loss as the Reds used the long-ball to celebrate and give the Cardinals its first loss of the young campaign, 2-1.
So do you see the inherent problem I speak of? Was it Brad Penny and his one-run allowed seven inning gem? No. Was it the Cardinals lack of run support? Maybe, but I am going with no. Was it Tony LaRussa over-managing by bringing in late-game relief pitching? Probably, but that's the way this manager manages, and since he is the second-highest winning active manager, I think we will let that slide, as well.
The problem comes with those fellas sitting out in the fenced-in play yard who have been trained to do a "specialty". And that specialty is pitching the Cardinals to victory when handed the ball and the lead by their fielding teammates and their manager. Yet, this is the only spot that in recent years has kept us from achieving that which is most desirable in the world of baseball, a World Series championship.
I know, I sound petty and greedy. Wouldn't you rather be a known as a petty and greedy Cardinals fan rather than a "not won a pennant" Chicago Cubs fan, though?
So I say gimme, gimme, gimme. Gimme a nine-inning winner. Gimme a bonafide closer, not an upadn--comer from Memphis. And most important, gimme the right to share my opinion. Why? Because I live and die by what happens on that field for nine months!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Playing to Win - The competitor in all of us.
Each and every American is born with an inner competitor somewhere inside them. Some wear it on their proverbial sleeve, while others have it hidden away deep inside. Some allow it to rule their lives, while others choose to boast of its hidden nature.
Some say that this competitor stigma is absolutely not a part of their makeup. They will blatantly puff up their chest and draw a line in the sand proclaiming no competitive fires burning within, not even an ember.
Well, I revert back to my opening statement. Hogwash!
Let me give you an example that proves my point. Have you ever traveled a highway that includes the alternating passing lanes? Those sometimes three-way lanes prove that even the most elderly of ladies, even the farmer men with a load of feed, plus the young sixteen year-old who is just learning to drive are all closet competitors.
Many a time I have found myself following any one of the types of people listed, traveling at a leisurely pace (A pace I don't consider very leisurely). And just as you approach the moment of respite that you have been longing for, that temporary passing lane, there is not one human that doesn't let that inner competitor out for just a brief half of a mile. It doesn't matter what speed you race your engine toward; even that elderly lady dressed in her Mother of Theresa black will do her darndest to stay in front of you.
Now that is what I called competitive! The most combative single-player sport in the world is the art of leading the three-lane highway race to the finish.
Gentlemen and ladies, young or old, start your engines!
Some say that this competitor stigma is absolutely not a part of their makeup. They will blatantly puff up their chest and draw a line in the sand proclaiming no competitive fires burning within, not even an ember.
Well, I revert back to my opening statement. Hogwash!
Let me give you an example that proves my point. Have you ever traveled a highway that includes the alternating passing lanes? Those sometimes three-way lanes prove that even the most elderly of ladies, even the farmer men with a load of feed, plus the young sixteen year-old who is just learning to drive are all closet competitors.
Many a time I have found myself following any one of the types of people listed, traveling at a leisurely pace (A pace I don't consider very leisurely). And just as you approach the moment of respite that you have been longing for, that temporary passing lane, there is not one human that doesn't let that inner competitor out for just a brief half of a mile. It doesn't matter what speed you race your engine toward; even that elderly lady dressed in her Mother of Theresa black will do her darndest to stay in front of you.
Now that is what I called competitive! The most combative single-player sport in the world is the art of leading the three-lane highway race to the finish.
Gentlemen and ladies, young or old, start your engines!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Blogging begins without your trousers
Beginning a blog is a lot like walking out of your house to get the mail, but forgetting you haven't put on your shorts yet. Once you are "out there", it makes sense to turn and run to the safety of the carpeted entry-way, but instead it seems to be more of a challenge to simply tempt fate and tip-toe your way to the mailbox.
But then I am supposing the same is true for the blog reader, who puts himself in-between a rock and a hard place by actually clicking on said bloggers words and hoping you don't have to tip-toe your way out of the result.
Some use blogs to scrape their opinion off the wall and onto the pad. Others use it as a means to an end. I, however, choose to use it to release all of those inner-confusions that find themselves leaking out anyway. I figure, why not put those to use? Maybe they will help someone along the way, or cause a giggle or a gaggle to an otherwise dreary day.
Some have asked for it. You know who you are and you only have yourselves to blame. Don't come whining to me when you find yourself addicted to the ramblings that will follow. I take no responsibility.
And yes, the majority of my posts will be sports related. I can't help it; that's where my path leads me day in and day out. But just because you don't consider yourself an avid sports nut, fear not! For behold, I plan to bring you good tidings of great joy that aren't always on the court, between the lines, or in the middle of the fairway.
And so, we trudge on.... to a land filled with milk and honey, as well as baseballs, golf balls, tennis balls, basketballs and.....
But then I am supposing the same is true for the blog reader, who puts himself in-between a rock and a hard place by actually clicking on said bloggers words and hoping you don't have to tip-toe your way out of the result.
Some use blogs to scrape their opinion off the wall and onto the pad. Others use it as a means to an end. I, however, choose to use it to release all of those inner-confusions that find themselves leaking out anyway. I figure, why not put those to use? Maybe they will help someone along the way, or cause a giggle or a gaggle to an otherwise dreary day.
Some have asked for it. You know who you are and you only have yourselves to blame. Don't come whining to me when you find yourself addicted to the ramblings that will follow. I take no responsibility.
And yes, the majority of my posts will be sports related. I can't help it; that's where my path leads me day in and day out. But just because you don't consider yourself an avid sports nut, fear not! For behold, I plan to bring you good tidings of great joy that aren't always on the court, between the lines, or in the middle of the fairway.
And so, we trudge on.... to a land filled with milk and honey, as well as baseballs, golf balls, tennis balls, basketballs and.....
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
