Yesterday I got a call from my old coach, Coach Wolfe. I have a message on my phone that anyone who reads this blog is as sick of as I am (Except my mom. I love you mom.). In the message I request a pep talk. I guess Coach Wolfe called to give me that pep talk that I've been waiting for. It couldn't have come at a better time either, I was kind of feeling down. His message went something like this "hahaahahaha!" It really took me back to my old little league days.
Coach Wolfe was a great man. He was as tall as steeple but as gentle as a flower. He had long hair and always wore sunglasses. I thought he was kind of a hippy. He usually didn't get very mad or make us work harder then we wanted to. He would give us pep talks about just having a good time and always making sure we wore a cup.
All of this stirred up some nostalgic feelings and somehow I ended up at this baseball diamond up the street. I sat in one of the old dugouts with the chain-linked fence and looking out I could almost see all of my old teammates running around on the field. Reed was catching, Eric Halstrom was pitching, and I was way out in right field. I liked playing in right field. I didn't know that it was the least important position. As a matter of fact, Coach Wolfe often praised my incredible hustle in right field. He'd frequently yell that to me. "Hey Brian," he'd say," great hustle out there in right field. Way to go man!" To this day whenever we play baseball, I trot out to right field knowing that its my zone. Nothing can get by me (of course not much even gets to me).
As I was sitting out there I remembered an old pep talk my dad gave me. Our team was losing and it was only about the 3rd inning. We all sat on the bench feeling dejected. My dad looked at me and said, "What are you doing? Its only the 3rd inning? The game is just getting started, you can't beat yourself now!" We did end up losing but I learned an important lesson about working hard. I think that's why I kept going back to baseball year after year. Even though I didn't have any talent, even though I was a scrawny little noodle armed kid, even though I felt like dying every time I struck out, I wanted to learn how to put in effort and not give up. Well, it was either that or the snacks they gave at the end...
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5 comments:
sorry, kid. e.r.c.'s taking over in right.
What if you held within you the ability of becoming an MLB player, but due to Coach Wolfe's laid back coaching style, you were never given the stimulating motivation to unleash your powerfully explosive physical talents and progress to future hall of fame status in the sport you are so dearly fond of. Now, instead of playing in a sport for which popularity is rapidly declining due to wage disputes, rampant substance abuse, and lets be honest, fans realizing "hey, this sport is kind of really boring to watch, this used to be our national past time?!?!", you are preparing for med school and graduating in the top 10% percent of your class at a college that is steadily gaining reputation as a prestigious, (some would say semi-prestigious)school known for its competitive pre med program. The question begs: Was Wolfe really a bad coach, OR was this his plan all along? I guess we will never know. Unless maybe you ask him and he tells you.
My favorite part about your baseball days was buying junk at the snack stand.
Also, what is up with "Big League Chew"? Every kid LOVES that stuff. It's really just a horrible idea, all around.
my favortie part of baseball is getting hit with the ball and having an excuse to swear. loudly.
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