From: The Only Fields That Matter
Like millions of parents with little boys we signed-up our son to play on his first baseball team at age seven. We liked his coaches and enjoyed watching boys develop the skills of catching a ball, swinging a bat and running the bases. We also entered into the team's family social life supported by the steady flow of correction emails. In Joseph’s first year he was demonstrating good skills and had an inch or two on his teammates; the coach would tell us he’d hit one over the fence some day. His two coaches even allowed me to share in the minor role of third base coaching during the games and helping out in practices which I loved doing. Baseball was a healthy activity for our entire family but in the 2010 season my wife was divorcing me, lawyers were being lawyers and our son couldn’t bring himself to the season for his sport. There would be no baseball in 2010. The following spring we pushed him to get back in baseball and thankfully he complied. He performed well with the machine-pitch method for delivering a baseball to batter. It was such a good season in 2011 that Joseph was selected for the 9 year old's all-star team. The championship game was to occur - of all dates – on his ninth birthday played on Field 9. Let me get to the point, after all, it’s only one game of kid baseball. On his third up-to-bat, taking two strikes, the umpire pulled and released the machine lever and off the ball flew toward home plate. His swing sent the ball sailing over the centerfield fence to the immediate uproar of parents and coaches. The Greyhounds emptied the dugout to join him at home plate with his own look of wonder covering his face. So what’s the big deal for me? Mr. Underemployed, Mr. Divorce, Mr. No-Money, Mr. No-Career, a three year job search failure, humiliated and ashamed, lost for answers and direction in the recession. Simply, his long hit over the fence presented in one instant, a new career metaphor. I can't revive my old job, my old life: it's time to jump the fence: go! Field 9 really mattered to him and me. I had been crushed by job loss, unchartered family issues, financial chaos, yet, a baseball driven off a blue metal bat challenged me to consider looking beyond my own career fences. After re-living my son’s home run repetitiously it dawned on me that nothing good had happened in a long time. Picture it one more time, recall your emotional outburst, this is good this is really good because everything has been so bad, so traumatic. He played throughout the summer of 2011 for the Greyhounds uplifting my spiritual and mental states substantially by hitting ten more home runs.
RPWaters
Like millions of parents with little boys we signed-up our son to play on his first baseball team at age seven. We liked his coaches and enjoyed watching boys develop the skills of catching a ball, swinging a bat and running the bases. We also entered into the team's family social life supported by the steady flow of correction emails. In Joseph’s first year he was demonstrating good skills and had an inch or two on his teammates; the coach would tell us he’d hit one over the fence some day. His two coaches even allowed me to share in the minor role of third base coaching during the games and helping out in practices which I loved doing. Baseball was a healthy activity for our entire family but in the 2010 season my wife was divorcing me, lawyers were being lawyers and our son couldn’t bring himself to the season for his sport. There would be no baseball in 2010. The following spring we pushed him to get back in baseball and thankfully he complied. He performed well with the machine-pitch method for delivering a baseball to batter. It was such a good season in 2011 that Joseph was selected for the 9 year old's all-star team. The championship game was to occur - of all dates – on his ninth birthday played on Field 9. Let me get to the point, after all, it’s only one game of kid baseball. On his third up-to-bat, taking two strikes, the umpire pulled and released the machine lever and off the ball flew toward home plate. His swing sent the ball sailing over the centerfield fence to the immediate uproar of parents and coaches. The Greyhounds emptied the dugout to join him at home plate with his own look of wonder covering his face. So what’s the big deal for me? Mr. Underemployed, Mr. Divorce, Mr. No-Money, Mr. No-Career, a three year job search failure, humiliated and ashamed, lost for answers and direction in the recession. Simply, his long hit over the fence presented in one instant, a new career metaphor. I can't revive my old job, my old life: it's time to jump the fence: go! Field 9 really mattered to him and me. I had been crushed by job loss, unchartered family issues, financial chaos, yet, a baseball driven off a blue metal bat challenged me to consider looking beyond my own career fences. After re-living my son’s home run repetitiously it dawned on me that nothing good had happened in a long time. Picture it one more time, recall your emotional outburst, this is good this is really good because everything has been so bad, so traumatic. He played throughout the summer of 2011 for the Greyhounds uplifting my spiritual and mental states substantially by hitting ten more home runs.
RPWaters