Sunday, May 5, 2013

RUNNING DOWN A DREAM

As I get older, I think too much.  I remember being a kid and never wanting to do anything.  Why? Because I was afraid to fail.  It didn’t matter how much my parents would tell me that "it was OK", and "just don’t give up"… I would, because in the end, I thought I wasn’t going to win. That was my thinking anyway.  I was never a tall kid, never too athletic and a nerd… braces, coke-bottle glasses, no ambition. But something happened when I reached the “Major” leagues of Little League baseball.  I found myself. I found my comfort zone and it's been with me ever since.

I’ve told you this story before, but it’s worth repeating because as I see my kids grow up, I am doing exactly what my parents did and I see my kids going through the same “I don’t want to do that” attitude.  It’s a vicious cycle, isn’t it? The difference however, is now I’m on the other end and I know the outcome can be sweet.  I really had no talent to speak of as a kid when it came to athletics.  I literally went to the plate at age 9 or 10 looking to get walked or just strike out to end my misery.  I was terrified of being pitched to by other kids.  They threw too fast, they usually hit you and it usually hurt like hell.  Plus, there were a bunch of kids out there, no doubt if I hit it, I’d be out anyway.

My coach knew I was fast and I think the guy just felt bad for me.  He pulled me aside before my first at bat one day.  It was sunny, the field was damp from the rain earlier in the day.  Not sure why I remember that, but I do.  He leaned in and told me to bunt. He then told me to “run my ass off to first.” I’ll never forget that because I remember at the time thinking “my coach just swore.”  I got in the batter's box.  He yelled “set to bunt” and I did. I remember the kids in the field yelling “he’s bunting!”   I set and when the pitcher chucked it in, I laid one down and “ran my ass off.”  I was safe at first! I had done it!  It then became a habit, but now knowing I could actually get on base meant that I was actually part of the team and not an automatic out.  At this point, I could steal second easily and sometimes third.  I was the Rickey Henderson of my little league and modeled my lead after him.

Picture it. Rickey Henderson was a brick shit house, yet there I was in my white cleats I insisted my mom buy me and my fingers dangling toward the dirt while I took my lead.  It was magic… I was a baseball player.  And from that point forward… it was in my blood, it’s all I wanted to be.

My baseball career never took off, but I played a good game every time I was out there.  I even toyed with the idea of trying to be a scab after the 1994 strike.  Just going down to Florida and trying out for a major league team even though I had no chance.  The challenge would have been great and I would have had an experience of a lifetime, but graduating college, I needed a “sure thing”… a job, and I needed to eat and so, I chose life.  I think about that a lot, but I now look at my 9 year old who is now terrified to get into the batter's box and I realize that I am better off being where I am now. On a side note, my 10 year old never had that problem. It's funny how kids are different.

My second son is not as talented as my first in the game of baseball, but his heart is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen.  He is loved by everyone who meets him.  He’s sweet, he’s pudgy and he’s mine.  He gets on base on a walk and he acts like he just hit a home run.  He’ll fist pump as he’s running to first, because it’s never about him when he’s on the field, it’s about his team.  He’s a darling, happy boy and when the game's over, win or lose, he puts his helmet away and never talks about the game again.  In some regards, that’s a pretty brave thing to do.  My oldest son takes losing very hard.
 He can’t let it escape him and it will carry to the next ball game.  No one needs that.  Yesterday, after several games of being afraid of kid pitch, my 9 year old pulled the trigger and cranked a hard liner. Unfortunately the pitcher snagged it, but it didn't matter. Mission accomplished... he was over the fear.

But the point of this is simple… it’s about finding that common ground. It’s about finding that comfort level where you can run down your dream and if you fail, you feel the sting, but you learn from it.  You are only a success if you try and if you fail, you know you don’t want to fail again.  I tell my little leaguers this all the time, “If you win all the time, there’s no growth.” Sure, every team wants to win every game, but it’s that losing 1 time that makes you learn. It makes you hungry and it challenges you as an individual and team to never give up on what’s important… working together, finding that “moment’ that you will never forget and running down that dream!  For me, it’s that bunt on that sunny day with the damp field… and me “running my ass off.” Since then… I’ve never stopped running. 

Rise and Shine today.

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