Last night sometime around 7:00 I turned in my coaching bag, thus ending my time as a baseball coach. I decided to wait until now to share some stories from my experience.
1. I now have enough material for a book full of short stories!
2. I now know what it means to be god - not because I call the shots: who plays first and who doesn't, batting order, & etc - because I know the true meaning of frustration. Every game I seek to line the boys up and get them in a ready baseball position. But as soon as I get them lined up they break out: one kid starts digging a hole, one kid starts hugging second base, one kid is watching the train, and one kid is picking their nose. In this way I feel like God - a higher power who does their best to get people in a ready position for human flourishing but they reject it and do their own thing. I have three godly options: yell at the kids (the easy route) or leave them on their own and let them get hit by the ball or go over and get them in place again.
3. If you can get a kid to hit a ball or put them in position to catch a ball it can make their day.
4. Kids are more fascinated with watching the ball they just hit then making it safe to first base.
5. Finally, at the end of the day the only thing that really matters is the team drink. In my day we called it "Around the World" here they call it "Swamp Water."
Yet all of these experiences are almost trumped by the most bizarre occurrence that can only be described as one of those "only in New Orleans types" Beer and Wine for sale at the concession stand.