Baseball
is a crazy sport where I live. Well, it's not that the sport itself is any more
ridiculous, it's just that it's taken so seriously that it gets a little crazy.
My son, who is 8, made the all star team this year. I was super excited for
him. Only 12 players out of his entire league made the cut. I was especially
proud of him because baseball was never my sport. I don't particularly enjoy
watching it and when I played as a child, I was terrible. But he really enjoys
it and is a decent player. He, by no means, is the best player on the team. He
may actually be toward the bottom. He generally catches the ball very well,
he's not afraid of it, he's one of the top two or three fastest kids, and he's pretty good at bat. He needs a lot of work
throwing though. But, like I said, he's not the worst, but certainly not the
best either.
In the
state tournament he just played in he taught me a lesson I'll never forget. He
had been playing first base, but in this particular game he wasn't playing at
all. He wasn't in the batting line up, nor was he playing the field. The coach
had him collecting the bats...and that was pretty much it. I was confused,
frustrated, and if I'm honest...hurt. My son should be playing...somewhere. I
was getting furious. Why was my son the only player on the entire team through
3 innings not to step on the field. So, in my heated frustration (which if you
know me, you know that generally things don't bother me at all) I marched myself
right over to the dugout and yelled at the coaches, "Does Dawson need to
pack up his bag right now? Do we need to go home or is he actually going to
play?" I continued, "I'm not trying to be a jerk, but this is
ridiculous!" The coach chipped in, "Well, you're being a pretty good
one right now! But he's going in, every kid has to play." I stomped away
still fuming. My poor, pitiful child who wasn't getting to play for his team
was about to go in because the team "every kid HAS to play." That was
even more of an insult to me. I packed up my bag chair and left the infield viewing
area and went out to where my wife and mother-in-law had already moved to.
Once I
sat back down, it hit me. I had become the very thing I can't stand. I let my
emotions get the best of me and in turn, showed everyone there the worst of
me...including my son who stared at me in the dugout throughout my entire Mr.
Hyde episode. knew immediately that I
needed to apologize. After the game, I quickly found all three coaches and
apologized for my actions. I apologized to their wives as well. After all, they
don't answer to me. I'm not the coach, they are. The coach calmly talked to me
and explained why my son wasn't playing that particular game and it honestly
all made since...and had nothing to do with him as a player. Everyone was very
forgiving and explained to me that they had all pretty much been there before.
However,
the real lesson in this didn't come until my son came out of the dugout. He ran
up to me with the biggest grin on his face. He excitedly yelled, "Dad!
Guess what!? I got to be the bat boy! It was awesome! I also got to be a runner
for one of the other kids! It was great!" So you see, there it is. My son
had a blast! Isn't that why we let him play to begin with? Isn't that the whole
reason he was there? Wasn't that the whole reason sports were invented...for
people to recreate and have fun? Here I was trying my best to protect my poor
child from the evil coach monster that was destroy his fun and he was having
the time of his life doing exactly what he was asked to do. Oh, by the way, I
always tell him to "just be ready to do whatever the coach asks you to
do." Maybe it would behoove me to start asking my kids how things are
rather than assuming I already know. As parents, maybe we do a little too much
assuming and not enough talking. If I would have waited until after the game
and have seen my sons response first, I could have spare everyone having to
watch me act like a fool.
James 1:19
My
dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to
listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.
