The choices we make

The other day, I was sitting in a small room with five other fortysomethings, pouring over a list of 8-year-olds. For a brief moment, I thought, wow, think of the power I have right now. I have the power to change lives.

I'm trying to pick a baseball team, I thought, and the decision I make right now could be a harbinger of luck, good or bad, for each of these boys and girls who live for crisp, early-spring days in April or hot, sticky Saturdays in June.

I know...I know...It all sounds so trivial. Baseball isn't a job. It's fun, and it's volunteer work. There is so much going on right now that hour-long roster-composing seems so small compared to the battle in Afghanistan or the push to pass health care reform. My friend, Bill, works on the First Aid squad, and I envy his devotion.

But for the 8-year-old, it's everything. Even for the high-school-age kid, it's everything and more. It made me think of my role as not only a coach, but a parent. Putting a team together means crafting relationships, and creating potential friendships. The friends they share, and the moments they have may never leave them.

So I'd better do my "job," I thought, and I'd better do it well. I hoped I did my homework, and I brought a legal pad with a list of the players I wanted, whether they were on the list or not.

I was late, largely because my town got nearly crushed by this wicked Nor'easter that blazed through last weekend, pulling trees from their roots and causing them to block off streets. The Little League field was sandwiched between a few spots that were cordoned off with yellow police tape. I sweated as I screeched through side street after side street, looking for an opening so I could get there on time. I wasn't.

But when I got my list, I checked off the people I wanted right away, and scribbled those who were gobbled up first. I wiped off the sweat that filled my brow as I tried to avoid fallen trees with my car, and got to work.

I picked kids who were talented, but not just in baseball. I wanted kids who could work together well. I wanted people who could remember each other. I wanted parents who could help. In the end, I was quite pleased with what I got.

I thought of my own self, and how I never really enjoyed organized sports until high school, when I joined the cross-country running team at Point Pleasant Borough High School. It's funny, because some of the best moments of my life happened with that team. Some of my biggest disappointments happened, too, such as injuring my knee my senior year. But all those moments, bad and good, stayed with me forever.

I often think, geez, what would have happened if I didn't have such a great group of guys around me when I got that injury, and lost my status as the best runner on the team? I've long thought that that injury was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But when you put that injury in the context of a whole year, it's not so bad. The other runners and I (Bill among them) made the best of the situation.

I thought of my oldest son, and how he thought of dropping out of baseball four years ago. He had played only two years, but he was already tired of it. We had just had our third child, and he and the rest of us were exhausted. Tommy didn't even bother trying out for the higher level.

That year, however, he got just the right coaches. He got three guys who really cared, and recognized his ability. Tommy learned to love the game again, and soon, he learned to love another sport even more - soccer. Walking into that situation spurred his confidence more than anything before or since, and he's gone on to become an excellent baseball and soccer player.

His baseball team, in fact, has won two championships in a row. My guess is he won't forget those, either.