Tuesday Essay

Now and Then

UPDATE: I originally posted this on 10-31-06, before the elections. I am re-posting it now to give a frame of reference to post I will be writing later this week

As I sat and watched my daughter playing yesterday, my thoughts drifted through the myriad of subjects that are the canvas of my mind. Thoughts of elections, politics, and the dangers the world now faces, flickered across my minds eye like so many coming attractions.

Like any parent, I tried to envision what the world looks like to her now, and what it will look like to her in her adult life. Without a frame of reference, it is hard to do.

So I thought back to my own childhood…

By grace, my memories of that time are of love, family, and rough and tumble play. I remember a feeling of security, pride, wonder, and competition.

The latter started me down a new thought track.

I saw images of the late spring, mile and a half walks from elementary school to the ball field, to practice little league baseball. I remember the camaraderie with my teammates. And as is always the case when these images cross my mind, I remember one particular incident, which at the time, was an embarrassment to me. I now remember it with a sense of pride, and understand it to be a defining moment in my life…

The regular drill at our practice was for the coaches to hit balls to us, as we fielded our positions. Then after everyone had gotten a few chances, one at a time, we'd leave our positions to go bat. This was called bat arounds. This particular year, (4^th grade) I was the pitcher, and as the cycle went, I was second to last to bat. The catcher was last. So after I took my swings, and sent several of the boys to the fence to retrieve my “whoppers”, it was the catchers turn. This meant that I had to take his place as catcher.

I hated that position..

At that time, the little league rules were that only the catcher had to wear a cup. Since I was a pitcher, and hated the things (they were mandatory in football, so I had worn one) I never wore one playing baseball. As such, a couple of times earlier in that season, during the same “bat arounds,” I had taken foul balls to the family jewels. Thus proving Newton’s theorem that a rawhide covered, rock-hard sphere turns into a testicle seeking projectile if said testicles are not protected by a thin wall if plastic..

Ladies, if child birth hurts worse that that, I have extreme empathy..

Anyway, after I donned the leg guards and chest protector, and sheepishly took my place behind home plate. Fearing for my reproductive future, I failed to pay close attention to where the batter had taken residence in the batters box. Well, to make a long thought short, I got whacked with a bat right in the funny bone area, behind the elbow on my left arm..

That is not the embarrassing part… that came later that week.

After an exam, I was declared o.k., but the doctor said that I had to rest the arm for 1 week, which in kid time is 237 years. I was bummed out, but during that week, I still walked to the field everyday after school and watched the practices. It sucked not being out there, but at least I was there.. To not be there was to not put 100% into it. And that was not acceptable to me.

During the 4^th and last of these watched practices, the team was really stinking it up, and putting forth very minimal effort. After we had ran a few laps for punishment, and it had failed to cause a stir, the coach yelled at the top of his lungs for everyone, parents and players, to gather up

I don’t remember all of the words the coach said, but I do not remember a chastisement before or since that rivaled it. I do, however, remember every word of his closing remarks.

He looked over to me, lowered his voice, and asked me to please stand up and come there. As I stood there beside him, with everyone staring at me, I looked down and kicked a few pebbles around self consciously.

He started:

“If any of you players had one tenth of the commitment and drive of this young man right here, we’d be the best team in this country. We’d never lose a game. He wasn’t the best player in the league when this year started, but through hard work and commitment, he has become that very thing. I can’t remember how many afternoons we’ve stayed late to throw the ball around a little extra, or get a few more at bats, but there were quite a few. There is not a single one of you that has given even one extra minute of effort this entire year, and now today, you won’t even give the effort when your required to be here..”

“And now, last Monday, this young man gets injured and put on the shelf for a week. He could have sat at home all week eating Moon Pies, and drinking R.C. Cola, but no, he has been here at practice, everyday, from start to finish. He’s ran the laps right along beside you, when he didn’t have too. He’s helped clean up the mess he had no part in making, after all of you bolted as soon as the final whistle blew. And every time any coach is giving advice, he was right there listening. There isn’t one of you that would have done the same, not one, and that is the problem.”

He let that last word hang in the air for a very uncomfortable amount of time. I don’t know how long it actually was, but to me, at the risk of sounding cliché, it seemed like an eternity.

Finally, “You young men have a decision to make; mom’s and dad’s, you too. Are you going to spend your whole life accepting being mediocre, or are you going to strive to be all you can be? Parents, do you want your young men to be everything they can be, or do you want them to just squeak by? Because these decisions aren’t just about baseball, no, they are about life.

Another pause…

“Tonight, I want each of you young men to search your soul. Parents, I want you to help. I want you all to decide if you’re going to commit to being a winner, or if you don’t have it in you. There is no shame if you don’t. Some have it, some get it, some never do..”

Another pause as his steely pale blue eyes looked at every person on that field. For the first time I was glad to be standing where I was, out of that gaze..

He blew the final whistle…

“Daddy, you’re not paying attention to me,” I heard as I snapped back to the here and now.. I’m sorry sweetie, here comes another throw, are you ready???

The memory fades back into the recesses..

Skip forward to today.

All morning I’ve read and heard about the foregone conclusion that the democrats are going to take over the two houses of congress, and the liberal agenda is taking over.. The war in Iraq is a failure and 250% percent of the population is ready to leave tomorrow. Appeasement is the only answer to all of our world problems..

I shudder at the implications. And as I drive to lunch, I again start to think about what this means to me and mine. As before, thoughts rush in at blinding speed.

On the radio, a synopsis of the following story jolts me back to reality…

Bill Parcells idea of a perfect day in the off-season is to spend it inside some ratty boxing gym in North Jersey. “It’s a laboratory,” he says. “You get a real feel for human behavior under the strongest duress — under the threat of physical harm.” In this laboratory he has identified a phenomenon he calls the game quitter. Game quitters, he says, seem “as if they are trying to win, but really they’ve given up. They’ve just chosen a way out that’s not apparent to the naked eye. They are more concerned with public opinion than the end result.”

The connection in my mind is profound.

For years, I’ve wondered why some kids give 100% to become better at something, be it sports or spelling, or a hundred other such things, and why some participate, but don’t give their best effort.

I’ve also wondered what liberals could be thinking when they literally spew hate against America, and protest and tear down everything that makes this country great; When they lined up to spit at our returning patriots during the Vietnam era, when they run terrorist snuff films on our airwaves to affect sentiment in our current struggle, and a thousand such things we are bombarded with on a daily basis by the liberal media.

The answer is that they feel the same things we do, they want to do great things, they want to be the hero, they have just chosen that it is easier to give up, and are seeking the best way out that lets them put out the least amount of effort and still keep up appearances. It is so much easier to tear something down, than build it. They can also be heroes to the people who are cut from the same defective cloth as they, at a much easier outlay of effort and intelligence.

Kids are kids, and should be given a pass, but liberals…

This is a hard thing for 80% of us Americans to understand, and an even harder thing to explain. This epiphany makes it crystal clear to me, but going back and reading it, I think it fails to get across the profound implication it holds if the liberals get a hold of power.

I am no great fan of W, but I think that he was trying to get the same point across in his famous “hard work” debate with Jon Kerry. Remember he said “its hard work” about five or six hundred times while trying to describe the need to fight the war on terror. It just cannot be easily explained.

So it comes to that. Who do you want to hold the reign’s of power? Do you want the Dems who understand the fight, but choose to capitulate to the enemy because they are "Game Quitters"? Or do you want the party that understands the fight, and at one time fought it with the vigor that will be required to keep us all safe. But that now has backed off to try and keep power. That is the question. Had the Repubs simply kept their foot on the pedal, we wouldn’t be having this discussion..

For the safety of my precious ones, I know what lever I’ll be pulling..
To read the whole story about Parcells, click here.

That is all..