Baseball in a blizzard

We had our third baseball game of the season on Saturday. And just when I thought all the male managers in the league had gotten used to the idea of me managing a team? I run across a coach that clearly thought I should be home ironing. And barefoot. I watched the expression on his face change when part way through the game it dawned on him that *I* was the manager and the males were the coaches. He tried to tell me to go sit down and not worry about it when I was trying to clarify a rule with the other manager. I wanted to throw down right then and there. Because? I was right about the rule. And he was an arrogant ass.

Steve’s got a position on the little league board this year and it’s his responsibility to recruit coaches and managers, help form teams and schedule all the games. And while Steve goes to the board meetings, at home we’ve been sharing the duties of this job because it’s a massive job. Only a few weeks before the season started, the league was short more than half the managers they needed. They didn’t even have enough managers to start the season. I’ve met enough people in the last few years in this league to go on a recruiting campaign. I recruited most of the missing managers. So managing the team we played on Saturday was someone I had cajoled into managing. Rich didn’t come by it easily though. He even sent Steve a list of demands a few hours after my first conversation with him about it. He was serious about the demands, but he was good natured about it.

Anyway, you’ll recall that the national weather service predicted 7 inches of snow over the weekend. The weekend consisted of totally bizarre weather. It was raining, snowing and hailing, usually all at the same time and sometimes with the sun shining. There’s no such thing as dry snow here.

When we got to the field on Saturday, the infield was mostly under water. The snow had melted from the night before and the field was a mess. I was attempting to cancel the game on the spot, when Steve noticed that the soccer field was relatively dry. Sigh. They wanted to play. It was snowing lightly. That hideous, sloppy, dripping kinda snow. My down jacket smelled of wet dog and I was already cold. I was completely outnumbered in wanting to go home to a warm fire. So we started warming up. And by warming up, I mean, trying to see the ball through the snow and hail. Steve sidles up to me and says “Huh. That’s a first. I never thought I’d hear myself say ‘I wish it was hailing’ because you know? The hail is a hell of a lot drier than the snow.”

After the second inning of playing baseball in the snow, I trotted out to the mound to confer with Rich over ending the game at that point. Our kids were freezing and losing interest. Rich scoops me up into a huge bear hug and says “Oh hell no! You got me into this! I am out here freezing my ass off because you had to go and recruit me for this job! We are totally playing another inning! Look! The sun is even shining!” (It shined for a whole 30 seconds, I’ll have you know!) Sigh. Double sigh.

So we started the next inning and halfway through the batting order, the snow really starts coming down. By the time we took the field for the second half of the inning, it was snowing and hailing so hard, I couldn’t see the kids’ faces. They had snow accumulating on the bills of their baseball caps and most of them were looking up at the sky trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Then? Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse? I shit you not, there was a blizzard. No one could see a thing with all the snow and hail. At that point I yelled to Rich “WE ARE TOTALLY EVEN NOW! EVEN STEVEN! YOU HEAR ME?!?! WE COULD HAVE BEEN IN THE WARM CAR ON OUR WAY HOME NOW! THERE’S NO SUN SHINING! YOU JUST HAD TO PLAY ANOTHER INNING!” And he’s standing on the pitcher’s mound laughing because the truth hurts.

So that was my Saturday, folks. Playing baseball in a blizzard, while smelling like wet dog and not being able to feel your extremities. Next time I will fight my way back to the car. That’s right, I will roundhouse kick and pummel anyone who disagrees and thinks that the game must go on….. 

Update: One of the parents just sent me this photo of when it first started coming down:

 

Children and Athletics

The only thing I can complain about so far in Washington is the state of athletic programs for children. I am SO frustrated. The programs rely on parent volunteers to coach. None of the programs are requiring those coaches go through any sort of training. Consequently, the experience of the children is more often so negative, they quit playing the sport altogether. Son #1 has dropped out of all sports now except baseball. He is playing fall ball and this is the first season he’s ever played without Steve participating in the coaching at least to some degree, and I fear that he’s very close to being done with baseball too. I am SO tired of these archaic attitudes toward coaching.

There was a T-Ball coach this year that told his team of five year olds, that there was going to be no more FUN, that this was SERIOUS baseball. Are you kidding me?!?! A coach for nine and ten year olds told the kids that they couldn’t do sleepovers when they had games. SERIOUSLY! These kids were in FOURTH GRADE!!!! I realize that when I’m coaching I’m bringing years and years of coaching experience to the table so I have a unique perspective. Coaching was my PROFESSION for 12 years. I have coached kids at all levels, all the way to Olympians. And all I can think of when I hear these idiotic statements from these coaches, is that I’ll bet that those kids will be completely burned out by the time they are 15. I’d bet my house they won’t finish college playing that sport. Because I’ve seen it over and over. When a kid is nationally ranked at eight, they are completely done with their sport by the time they are 18. I know this both as a coach and as an athlete. The dedication and sacrifices that have to be made over and over in the name of the almighty sport, will eventually tear down every single athlete. They wake up one morning and think “I just want to be a normal kid/teenager/college student. I want to be able to do what all the other kids do: watch TV/ go to parties/ lounge around.”

Years ago I coached at a high school and I had a kid who was ranked nationally as a 13/14 year old. By the time he was a senior in high school, he was an all-american swimmer and had accepted a full swimming scholarship to Stanford University, one of the most prestigious swimming colleges in the nation. He had been swimming since he was six. One day, during his freshman year in college, I was still coaching at his high school and he stopped by the pool and said “I really need to talk and I think you’re the only person I can talk to about this.” We sat down and he said “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hate swimming. I hate it with all my heart. I just want to be a normal college student and enjoy life and go to parties and do all the stuff the other college freshman are doing, that I can’t do because of swimming. But I’ve got this scholarship and my family won’t even hear of me saying I hate swimming.” My heart almost broke for this kid. He was an extremely dedicated swimmer. He was extraordinarily talented and a coach’s dream. But you could see in his eyes, he was defeated. He was completely burned out. I explored his feelings and motivations with him before coming to the conclusion that he had nothing left to give to swimming. Sadly, I suggested that maybe taking a little break might help him refresh himself. He shook his head. I think he knew what he wanted to say, but was afraid to say it out loud. Finally he did say it. “I want to quit and never go back. What do I do?” I told him he needed to go talk to his coach honestly and tell him everything he had just told me and see what he said. I told him that it was ok with me if he quit. He seemed like he needed permission. He came back to the pool a few days later smiling like I had never seen him smile. He had had that conversation with his coach and his coach told him the same thing I did. It wasn’t worth doing anymore. So he quit. It was a shame too. He could have had a great college career and possibly an Olympic career. This isn’t a unique story. I’ve seen it over and over throughout my coaching career. Part of burn out is perpetuated by the parents. Because within 24 hours of him quitting, his mom was down at the pool screaming at me that I had made him quit and his life was ruined. Parents who are trying to live out an athletic career vicariously through their children will always do more harm than good. Kids don’t need to “get serious” about their sport. They need to do it because they love it. A coach’s job is merely to give the kids the tools and skills they need to be the best that they can be while making sure at the same time they they never lose their love for their sport. What these parent coaches continually fail to understand is that you can make the experience fun and get the most out of the kids without making it seem like work.

For example, I can make kids do sprints. OR I can tell them we’re doing “blue jean relays.” I can offer prizes like candy bars to the winning relay and have these kids work twice as hard as they would if we were just doing sprints. With blue jean relays, they wear their jeans in the pool while doing the sprint relays, which creates an incredible amount of drag. It forces them to really work and serves as a kind of weight training exercise and the kids LOVE it. They think it’s hilarious. And they’re so exhausted by the end of this, they can barely lift themselves out of the pool. But I got 110% out of them instead of 85% and they leave still loving swimming. This type of coaching philosophy is new in the last decade or so. What coaches on the cutting edge of their sports are finding out is that BALANCE is what keeps these kids in the sport. It reduces injuries. It quells burn out. When I was swimming, the philosophy was the more, the better. I could bench press more than my body weight. I swam an average of 10 miles a day. We ran 5 or 6 miles before we even got into the pool, doing hundreds of push ups and sit ups before we got in. What did it get me? Injuries to my back, shoulders and knees. Injuries that I still feel to this day and four surgeries didn’t fix. Career ending injuries.  

These old school, hard core, “toughen ‘em up” attitudes are idiotic and destructive. I want to throw up when I see coaches of elementary school aged children allowing only the best kids to play or allowing only the stronger kids to play the better positions. I got news for you, Coach. You’re only as good as your weakest player. Because any team can have a talented kid or two. And those children will thrive under any circumstances, because of you or in spite of you. What proves how well you can coach is how all the other kids are doing. How much improvement your weakest player shows. Any sports fan knows that depth, not the star players are what wins games. And depth only happens if you can build a team. You’re always going to get a child or two that is a coach’s dream. Kids with more talent in their pinky finger than the rest of the kids put together. But if you don’t know how to harness their talent, make them truly love their sport, feed it, and watch it grow, you still failed as a coach. I know many of the old school coaches believe their methods get results. You may still win that trophy, but what did the KIDS gain from the experience? And at what price? Will they still be playing five years down the road? There’s a better way. As a coach, if you don’t care how each and every player on your team is improving and you are only focused on how good you can make that one player, or your child, YOU HAVE FAILED. You’re in it for the wrong, selfish reasons. Get out before you hurt some more kids.

I was talking to one of the Senseis at the dojo the other weekend. I told him how I thought he was absolutely fantastic with the kids. I was so grateful that he was teaching their minds as well as their bodies. He was teaching them life skills and sport at the same time. Son #1 loves karate like he’s never loved another sport and I’m watching him push himself harder than he’s ever pushed himself because he wants to. He wants to work hard for this Sensei and he wants to be as good as he can be. I thanked him. And you know what Sensei said? “My wife is a teacher and we are trying to change the world one child at a time.” So am I, Sensei, so am I.

So I guess you’re wondering where I’m going with this. Sigh. I caved. I am the head coach for son #2’s basketball team. Because I want him to play sports because he loves the sport. And if he doesn’t want to play anymore, I want it to be for the right reasons, not because he had a lousy coach. I’ve finally realized why all these parents were asking me to coach even though I keep insisting I don’t know much about basketball. Coaching is an art. Not just anyone can do it. You may know more about a given sport that I’m coaching, but I can guarantee you that I’ll still get better results. I’ll put my new age coaching philosophy (teach fundamentals, teach the mind, make it fun) up against your old school coaching attitudes any day of the week. You’re only as good as your weakest player, Coach. Remember that.

 

JUST SAY NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m not a pushover, but when it comes to volunteering for church and school, it’s nearly impossible for me to say no. I get roped into the WORST situations because of my inability to turn down a request for help. And I make myself crazy from volunteering to do more than any one person is able to do.

Son #2’s cub scout den needs a leader. And it is NOT going to be me. First of all, I will NOT wear that dorky shirt. EVER. And yes, it’s mostly about that damned shirt. But also I’m just not into scouts. It’s not my thing. And I made a vow to stick with the stuff I’m good at and enjoy doing this year.

So imagine my dismay when I was thrown under the bus by that spouse of mine tonight. He KNOWS I want nothing to do with scouts. He KNOWS how I am spastic at baskbetball. AND YET. He tried to get me to be the damned den leader AND TO COACH BASKETBALL again! (I was HIS assistant last year and had NO CLUE what I was doing.) Now he wants me to be the head coach this year. And he joined up with another dad while they cajoled and tried to bully me into coaching and doing the den leader thing. AND AS IF THAT WASN’T ENOUGH the pack leader was trying to get them to be the den leader AND THEY BOTH TURNED AROUND, POINTED AT ME, AND SAID TOGETHER “She’s not doing anything this year!” Do you believe this?!?!? I AM OUTRAGED! And after she walked away, I turned to Steve and said “WHY in the HELL did you throw ME under the bus?!?” And he grins and says matter-of-factly “Because Kevin and I didn’t want to do it.”

I. KNOW. WHERE. HE. SLEEPS.

 

I can’t remember what life was like B.B. (before baseball)

“I can see!” said the blind…uh, woman. That’s right folks, I am sitting in my chair, leaned againt the back, and I can read the screen! Now I know that might not be a novel concept for you all, but damn, it is for me. I picked up my new reading glasses yesterday and am wondering WHY it took me so long to do it. Vanity is so not worth it!!!! I can’t even remember the last time things had crisp edges! And do you know that for the first time in probably almost a decade I can read the lettering on the inside of my wedding ring? Again, probably neither orgasm-inducing or novel for you, but it’s a marvel for me!

Baseball season has finally ended. I’m relieved and sad all at the same time. I’d forgotten how much I missed coaching. But the time commitment? WHEW. And my first year as a manager worked out for me. Everyone wants to be on my team again next year. On other teams we’ve played, the parents and coaches have come up to me at the end of the game and asked how they can get on my team next year. Lol! That’s a far cry from the beginning of the season where I was getting emails saying “I’ve never heard of a woman coaching boy’s baseball before.” You’ll be happy to know that Dad sent me an email last week asking if his son could play for me again next year and if he could coach with me again. Let’s say it together “Awwwwwww.” Maybe my reputation will preceed me next year and NO ONE will give me grief about having boobs and a hooha and coaching baseball. I can hope, right? And the team parents were sending around an email talking about me and one of the parents gave me some of the those emails. I almost cried. This is what they said behind my back:

Cracked ribs, son in a wheelchair and still running the team to above expectations, what a great coach!

After seeing the other managers and how they ran things, we clearly had the league’s best manager!!

Not only that, but we are coming away with a 6 year old that loves baseball A LOT and knows the fundamentals enough to practice with his older brother’s <2 levels up> team. Now that says a lot about the coach!

Say it again with me: “AWWWWWW!” I know, seriously, makes you want to cry, huh? It makes all the effort and time totally worth it.

Today Steve and I are rewarding ourselves with a day of rest. I don’t even remember what it was like to not think about baseball. I don’t remember life before baseball, and I don’t remember being able to see before. My life’s a blur no longer……..

 

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…

Steve and the espresso maker have made up. Ergo, I have coffee, the sun is shining and all is right with the world again…… I’m headed to the gym, but only to ride the bike, no weights, eliptical or running, I promise. I need endorphins. You can feel my moods dipping low without the gym, can’t you? Therefore you must realize, I MUST HAVE MY WORKOUTS.

Baseball is going gangbusters. My team knows what they’re doing and they look good out there. I’m very happy with the way the season is going and every time we play another team, that Dad that gave me a hard time in the beginning of the season for being a woman coach has to eat a slice of humble pie. Tee hee.

I have to say, when the weather is clear here, there is nothing in the world like it. It is so take-your-breath-away beautiful. You can see the snow capped mountains and the air is so fresh here. It is worth every single gray winter day. Seattle is one of the best kept secrets in the world….

I’ve finished my coffee and I’m off to the gym to get high. I mean, to get my endorphins on. lol. Hope your day is sunny too……

 

My team ROCKS!

First game of the season and my t-ballers turned a double play. WOO HOOO! My son played first base and made his first out! We rock!

 

Catagapors and Coffee

I was promised coffee this morning. Not blaming anyone, not naming names, just saying…didn’t get any coffee, that’s all. And I am TIRED. No, really tired. I tried licking the espresso machine but nothing happened. I inhaled deeply from the coffee bean bag. Nothing happened. I cried a little and then went and found some No-Doz. Does No-Doz expire? Because an hour later I found myself teaching art and using the word “Catagapor”- don’t ask. Suffice it to say kindergartners think that word is hilarious.

I came home and tried a short nap. I woke up and found thinking hard. Walking was hard too. I ran into the wall. I picked up son #1 from school and decided this couldn’t go on. I drove through Starbucks and am one nonfat dry cappuccino heavier. With change I scraped out of the ash tray. Because I forgot my purse. I have baseball to coach in a hour. I don’t feel awaker. Or smarter. Or more coordinated. I’m afraid I may be using catagapor again and running into things. Sigh.

 

My drug of choice

That got your attention didn’t it? Ya buncha looky loos! ;D This week is son #1’s first week back at school since the accident. I’ve been staying at school with him, helping him readjust, helping the school learn how to handle the wheelchair and wheelchair issues that arise. Today the school nurse wanted me to be at school in case they needed me, but not in the classroom. Which gave me like, an hour and a half of semi-freedom. So I went outside and ran a couple of miles around the school and did push-ups on the playground. And it was heaven. Pure heaven. No screaming kids, no one making demands of me, just exhaustion and my favorite drug, endorphins. Endorphins beat any chemical enhancement you can take. EVER. I am still high on endorphins and now I feel kinda sleepy. I’ve left son at school BY HIMSELF since the morning went fine, for an entire hour and a half. I can see some freedom coming my way in the coming weeks and I am GIDDY. I’m going to top this off with a little piece of chocolate. And some more endorphins this afternoon. I’ve got baseball practice later today. I am one with my chi.

 

PMS, PCLs, hair, and chi

After cleaning spit balls from the walls, the wheelchair, the carpet and furniture, I’m feeling much calmer today. That PMS edge will sure get to you. Although you should realize that I still might come unglued at any moment, I am currently basking in some sort of….I don’t know, post-workout coma? I told my trainer he’s going to have made me so damn sore I’m going to end up throwing like a girl at tomorrow’s first baseball practice. I’ve already received an email from a dad on the team who seemed less than happy that a woman is managing his son’s baseball team. I replied to his email with my coaching and baseball resume and hopefully we’ve set the record straight. If we haven’t, I’m hoping he doesn’t think to wear a cup to practice and we’ll settle all that woman baggage with a fast ball to the nuts. > Ok, you got me. I’m still on the edge. But I have a right to be. Did you get peed on today while helping someone use a urinal? No, I didn’t think so. And I’m pretty sure God heard me taking the Lord’s name in vain when I did. Cut me some slack, dude, I was peed on. In my white down coat.

But being peed on isn’t the worst of my day. The worst of my day happened when I took son #1 for his post op check today. And they discovered more injuries. The doctor thinks his PCL (posterior cruciate ligament) and his meniscus are torn (in the knee.) Except there’s nothing they can do about it right now because this knee is on the broken hip side. And he can’t rehab it or have it operated on at this point. So we’ll be addressing this in four weeks or more.

Did I mention my hair hurts today? I showered at bedtime last night and my hair wants to lay one way and I’m trying to put it into a ponytail the other way. And it hurts. Like a cat being rubbed the wrong way.

I’m spent. And there’s some irritating water dripping. It’s interfering with my ability to concentrate and interrupting my chi. I need to go break something. Be back later.

 

Can you smell the testosterone rolling off me?

Baseball managers meeting was tonight. I was the ONLY chick in the room. They talked about male bonding and stuff. I almost started throwing tampons.

 

Uh oh…..

When phone calls start out “so what are you doing this spring?” Yell “ABORT! ABORT!” and hang up….

<sometime yesterday>

<phone rings>

Me: Hello?
Voice on other end: Hi, it’s <name omitted>, I’m the VP of instructional baseball this year.
Me: Oh hi!
Voice on other end: <nervous laugh> Soooooo. What are you and Steve doing this spring?
Me: <laughs> Well I signed up to head coach T-Ball again and I think Steve signed up to asst. coach son #1’s team.
Voice on other end: Yeah…… about that. How do you feel about managing?
<silence>
Me: Uhhhhhh…….
Voice on other end: It’s really easy if you’re organized!

Sigh. So you’re looking at son #2’s T-Ball Manager. God help me.