Coach

My son, Bret, made being a coach in youth sports organizations a lot easier for me.  First, because he was on my team, he made the team automatically better, giving me fewer things I had to do.  Second, he was like having an assistant coach out on the baseball field/basketball court.

At first, I didn’t want to be a coach.  It had been too easy with my daughter, Rachel, and her gymnastics.  I only had to drive her to practice, drive her to away meets, and sell bagels and coffee at home competitions.  But then one day while I was minding my own business, I was approached by another father who had been strong-armed into volunteering to be a coach.  He had agreed only if another father (me) would assist him.  I was gently persuaded.

But, then I kind of liked being a coach.  I liked the fact I could give Bret perks such as extra playing time (within the rules) and playing any position he wanted, like catcher.  I liked teaching young kids how to play the game, especially baseball.  Basketball has always been a little foreign to me, especially when it came to strategy.  But, I learned as I went along.  I also liked the cachet of being a coach, even if it was as a volunteer in youth sports.  I was in the inner circle of power, sort of.  I discovered there is an inner circle, and then another more powerful circle inside (sort of like Animal Farm).  I was not invited into the inside circle.

My all-time favorite moment watching a baseball game, at any level, was in fact watching Bret, as the shortstop, catch a towering pop-up to end a game which gave his team the championship.  In my head, I could hear the lyrics to the Queen song, “We are the champions, my friends, and we’ll keep on fighting to the end.”  Before the game, he had asked me to hit him just such fly balls so he could practice catching them.  I remember the time Bret was so feared as a batter that an opposing coach intentionally walked him.  In Little League baseball!  Another time playing third base, the batter hit a ball that bounced high over Bret’s head.  He turned around, ran toward the ball, caught it over his shoulder, spun around counter-clockwise, and then rifled it to the second baseman for the third out of the inning, saving a run from scoring.  It was an instinctive play that I have never seen even a pro duplicate.

Bret objected to wearing a protective cup while playing baseball.  I guess it was uncomfortable.  But, it was required under Little League rules.  However, he discovered that a star major leaguer didn’t wear one either (I think it was Don Mattingly).  How can I argue with that?  At the next game, the umpire announced he would personally check to make sure each player was wearing a cup.  And how will he do this?  By tapping each player’s groin area with a baseball bat, listening for the click of the bat against the metal cup.  This guy was a pervert.  I had a big argument with him.  I insisted he take my word that each of my players was following the rules.  Furthermore, his methodology was inappropriate.  I won the argument and saved my son. 

Once, I was designated to be one of the two coaches at an all-star basketball game.  I was given zero instructions as to how I was to substitute the eleven players I had.  I devised my own system which I thought was fair.  However, the other coach had a different system.  He was making substitutions more rapidly than I was.  Overall both his players and mine would have about the same amount of playing time, which was the point.  However, one league official got very angry, came over screaming at me in front of everyone and demanded that I immediately make substitutions (a la, the other coach) or he would fire and replace me.  My first reaction was to stand up to this guy and defend myself.  However, I looked at Bret, who was sitting on the floor waiting to enter the game.  I did not want to do anything to embarrass him.  I capitulated.  But, I vowed never to volunteer to help that league again.  This is how you treat a volunteer?

At the end of that season, our first-place team had a one-point lead with seconds remaining in a playoff game.  We had the ball and in retrospect, I should have called a time-out and discussed strategy, especially with Bret, who understood basketball better than I did.  Instead, he successfully passed the ball into our tallest player, who, once he had the ball, didn’t know what to do with it.  He was virtually mugged by all five players on the other team.  Their best player ripped the ball from his hands , turned, dribbled a couple of times, and then put up a prayer from just beyond half-court.  It went off the backboard and in.  We lost.  I took it gracefully.  I did not argue with the referee that it appeared the shot was after the final buzzer.  I wanted to show my son that you have to learn to accept defeat.  The disappointment of losing like that was another reason I didn’t want to coach any more.  I had enough.

I must mention the one game I coached without my son.  My all-star baseball team qualified for the Little League tournament, at the local level.  Unfortunately, Bret was underage and could therefore not compete.  However, as soon as the team was eliminated from the tournament, Bret could join the team for another series of games that had been scheduled over the remainder of the summer.  In our first tournament competition, we were losing after four innings, which marks an official game.  In the top of the fifth inning, my team rallied and took the lead.  We were still at bat, and scoring more runs, when a terrific thunderstorm hit the area and the game was stopped.  Everybody ran for cover and waited an hour.  Finally, without any let up in the downpour, the umpires called the game.  I had to explain to my players that we lost a game we were winning.  The other team hadn’t batted in the fifth, so the score would revert to the end of the fourth inning when we were losing.  All the adults were so impressed with my good sportsmanship.  I even received a letter of commendation and a Little League decal as a result.  However, I was really happy we lost so Bret could join the team and we could spend the rest of the summer together.