Try Outs
Life has a
way of revealing ourselves. Events,
chance encounters, long-term relationships all present opportunities along our
way for self-reflection. Self-reflection
always opens to the opportunity for growth.
This weekend reminds me of just such an opportunity that came my way when
my oldest son Jacob turned eight years old.
At the time
I was emersed in my love of outdoor pursuits.
During the week I was working hard and long at a job that I did not
enjoy. I found release and some
temporary happiness on the weekends doing what I wanted to do – namely hunting
or fishing, depending on the season. I
especially loved trout fishing and I anxiously awaited the first Saturday in
May and the trout fishing season opener.
Nothing was more important to me than fishing for trout on opening
day. It was an obsession.
Jacob turned
eight in March and around the time of his birthday he came home from school
with information about Little League baseball.
Jacob said that he would like to play.
The first thing that popped into my mind was this was a chance to allow
my son to do something that I never had the chance to do. See, my father worked at the paper mill in a
job that had supported the family very well, but I am sure he didn’t
particularly enjoy. His passion was
camping and that is what our family did on all of his summer long weekends and
all of his vacation time. I had come
home once with information about playing Little League baseball but it became
very clear very quickly in my father’s stern silence when I broached the
subject that asking to play was the question that must not be asked. Obligations to play ball would have interfered
with family camping trips. My baseball
career ended that night at the dinner table in my father’s silence and my
silence. So, my first reaction to
Jacob’s request to play baseball was, “Great!”
Then he
handed me the paper with the details.
The first thing I noticed was that because Jacob had never played
organized baseball he was required to come to “Try Outs” so the coaches could
evaluate each boy’s skill level. And the
Try Out date was the first Saturday in May – opening day of trout season. I couldn’t back out now, but I wasn’t happy
about it. Missing opening day was
devastating. I went into an immediate
pout. Life was not fair!
The first Saturday
in May that year was bright and sunny – so much the worse for my continued
sullied mood as it was a perfect day for trout fishing. Instead, we headed to the ballpark. Jacob was excited; I was dejected.
I took a
seat in the bleachers with the other parents as Jake ran out on the field. The first thing they had the kids do is line
up by third base. The coach was going to
hit a grounder to them; they were to field the ball and then throw the ball to
the assistant coach who was standing on first base.
I was
working hard at being bored and even a bit angry. Watching the kids miss the ball or boot the
ball and them make throws that were off target or bounced to first base didn’t
help my interest level. Then it was
Jacob’s turn. He pounded his glove like
a pro and got set. I leaned forward and
unconsciously held my breath. Jacob fielded
the ball cleanly and made a nice throw to first base. What I remember most clearly is that he
looked for me in the bleachers; his eyes locked on mine. On his face was the biggest smile. In that smile was the fun of baseball, the
thrill of playing the game, a sense of accomplishment, a budding of
self-confidence. In that smile my
self-centered heart instantly melted. I
suddenly realized that there was no more special place for me to be that day
than right there to experience that moment with my son. I was no longer pouting. I was grateful in and for the moment. I became a much better, still far-from-perfect,
but much better father that day.
Jacob and I
both attended “Try Outs” that day, and both of us learned something about
ourselves. We both, felt a bit more
ready for whatever was coming our way.
Life. Pound your glove like a
pro. Get set. Play Ball!
His Peace,
Deacon Dan
Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash
Comments
Post a Comment