Then the softball season came around...part 2

In last week's post, I talked about how I never set out to be a coach this year. 

Earlier, both my daughters expressed interest in playing softball.  That surprised me because neither girl had played before.  I signed both up and thought nothing more about the game other than putting in some time with them on fielding and catching. 

By stroke of luck, both girls had to report to the same field for first day of practice.  My younger daughter had her practice first and I saw her team had a coach and two assistant coaches.  They broke the team up into sections and worked on drills separately, rotating sections out to other drills.  Practice ended an hour later.

Right after that, my other daughter had her practice with her new team and coach.  Other than noting her coach looked pregnant, I settled in to watch and wait for my wife to get here from work and pick up our younger daughter.  It dawned on me that the coach was handling this practice by herself and it was taking FOREVER to go through a drill before moving onto another.

After an hour, the coach had just finished the pitching drill and that was the first drill.  I knew right away help was much needed and that's when my wife showed up.  I told her about that and she said, "Why don't you offer her your help?  You've coached before."  I nodded at that and said, "Come with me then."  We walked over to the coach and with my wife interpreting for me, I volunteered to be an assistant coach.  3 others jumped in to volunteer as well. 

What I remembered the most about that moment was all the girls coming over to look at me when I offered help.  I got strange looks, curious looks, bewildered looks, and so forth.  However, my daughter was super-thrilled to have me on board as an assistant coach.  My wife overheard her tell her teammates "My dad is a very good coach and you will learn a lot from him." 

The coach texted me two days later to make sure I would be there for practice.  I showed up and she didn't know what to do with me.  I'm used to that and I had a feeling that would happen, which was why I had an interpreter.  I discussed with the coach on how to communicate with me in an effective manner and she was very attentive.  I promised her I would have an interpreter at every practice because I knew not everyone would understand me.

During practice that day, I noticed some girls didn't know how to throw properly, catch properly, and/or field properly.  What I meant by that is how you use your feet while throwing, having the glove in proper alignment when catching, and setting yourself in front of the ball to field it cleanly.

The coach was amazed by how I picked up on the minutae and I told her, "It's easy to overlook things when it's second nature to you and to me.  Our job to to make sure they all know how to do things correctly to minimize injuries."  That impressed her even more and she took to me right away.  We became comfortable with each other and she was surprised by my approach to the game.

She liked how calm and attentive I was with everyone and she became my fan when I made a player run the length of the outfield for trying to catch a ball in a dangerous way.  That is, catching a ball palm up with the back of the hand horizontal to the ground while the ball is coming in high instead of having the glove pointing up to the sky.  That's a sure-fire way to have a ball hit you in the face.  She had never been able to break the girls of that dangerous habit last year and my way did the job much faster.  I even did it to my own daughter, making her run the length several times.

When a parent tried to hassle her over something trivial, I reminded her that she is "HBIC" and she should utilize her assistant coach to make sure everything would be done correctly.  Her eyes widened at that and and she said, "If that's what I think you said, you're right.  I want you to handle the girls while I go and make it clear who is in charge here."

To clarify what HBIC is, it's "Head Boss (or a bad word) In Charge".  The letter B is beautifully interchangeable for either sex.  ;) 

Not long after the season started, she texted me to let me know she wasn't handling her pregnancy well and had to be on bed rest.  She felt that since I was the only assistant coach to show up at every practice AND game along with showing patience and great attention to details, I would be ideal to replace her.  I was honored by her faith in me to lead the team.

When a parent found out that I was promoted to head coach, she volunteered herself and her husband for assistant coaches.  That instantly allayed any fear any parent might've had with the team having a deaf coach.  We got along easily without the aid of interpreters and the husband turned out to be a fabulous coach - I would say something small like "One out" and he would follow all the way through by saying to the runners "One out, that means what? That's right, stay and wait unless there's a ground ball then you run!"

I made sure to let every player play in whatever position they wanted to and I followed the rule of letting each player play on the field for at least 2 innings per game (not every coach followed that).  I must confess that I did have an ulterior motive for letting everyone play in all positions - this allowed me to develop depth in each position.  This turned out to be the right thing because two players got suspended for the year due to off-field infractions and two players dropped out.

We started the season with 13 players and finished with 9 (one never showed up in the final game) with the record of 2-10 (there were only 4 teams in the league, 4 game series each).  We lost 2 games by 2 runs or less, which is awesome considering the fact the majority of the players were playing for the first time.  The girls loved playing and loved playing for me. 

I spoke with the former coach; she wants to come back.  I told the husband and wife that they made great assistant coaches.  I even told the husband that if he decides not to move this year and the league needs another coach, I'd gladly coach against him because I thought he would make a very good coach too.  He was touched by that and liked the idea of coaching against me as well.

I am looking forward to next year.  ;)

Then the softball season came around...part 1

The funny thing about this softball season was...I wasn't looking to be a coach and I was made to be a coach, twice. 

I was looking to play again this year...this time as a player without the "/coach" added on.  To clarify this...last year, I was a player/coach of an adult coed slo-pitch team (with a mix of deaf and hearing players) and we managed to win just one game (when a team full of barflies didn't bother to show up).  Last year's team was, at best, a mediocre collection of players.  We had lost two games by two runs or less and 3 games by 5 runs or less to finish at 1-13.

When a very talented player joined the team in the final game of the season last year as second baseman and played brilliantly in tandem with me at first base, I realized with her returning next year we would be one or two good players away from becoming a respectable team.  I am a great catcher, I am a very good pitcher that doesn't crack under pressure, and I am a decent infielder.  I'm just like Crash Davis..."all my limbs put together are worth 7 cents a pound", but boy do I have the brains for the game.

Don't get me wrong...I am not all about winning.  Yes, winning feels good (always!) but I would never try to win at anyone's expense.  I *am* competitive by nature - I always give everything I have on the field and I always leave it all on the field.  Most players, who came consistently to the games, always played their hearts out and I would take them over any talented player who doesn't care about the team.

The point is, it's just a game but I wanted to give the players a chance...more accurately...a fighting chance to win every time.  I always put everyone in the game, even if it means losing the lead...even if it meant I wouldn't get to play.  Growing up, I was always picked last or excluded from the games and I *hated* the feeling that came standard with being excluded or subbed for a better player.  I vowed to never do that to anyone if I ever became a coach and I still haven't done that to anyone.

Here's what happened this year - I was supposed to play in a league 30 miles south with one of the last year's players becoming the coach but he took too long to register a team.  You guessed it correctly - I was able to register a team in my league and again I was the coach.  However, the majority of players from last year brought more players and the skill level was much better this time around. 
 
I moved a player from her usual shortstop position to second baseman because she had trouble making the throw from there and I knew she would adjust to the "flipped" side.  She adapted so well that she gained confidence in her game and she even went after players who would "lollygag the ball around".  I promptly made her the captain of the team.  Certain new players who instantly upgraded the skill level were put in center outfield, shortstop, and first base, becaming permanent fixtures along with the captain.
 
Me?  I ended up not playing at all in order to accomodate the sudden influx of available players.  I knew I missed being on the field, but I didn't realize exactly how much I missed it until I had to pitch on July 9th and again on July 16th.  More on that in a future post, I promise.  :)

And the "twice" part I alluded to at the beginning?  Stay tuned. 

Bonus points to anyone who caught "Bull Durham" references - I *love* that movie and it is the greatest baseball movie.  Ever.  No, not even "A League of Their Own" or "Field of Dreams".  I loved the story about female players and "There's no crying in baseball!!!" and I played catch with my dad so I didn't have to "build it and he will come" which means "Field of Dreams didn't hit me as hard as it did with others.  So there!  LOL

Confessions from a deaf man doing his best he can...

I stopped blogging right before last Thanksgiving because of several reasons:

1. I had a personal crisis
2. Because of #1, I threw myself into serving the deaf community
3. Because of #1 & #2, I ran out of time/things to say
4. Because of #1, #2, & #3, I stopped blogging
5. Because of #1, #2, #3, & #4, I took on a second job (teaching)

About 2 days into the 2nd job, a friend needed us after her husband walked out on her and the family.  His reason at the time?  "I can't do this, I need time to myself."  That made me very angry because of the way he said it...as if he really wasn't required to be responsible for everyone.

As if he had an escape clause.  What the...? 

This triggered the following scenarios:

1. Stepped in as a substitute for the friend and her family
2. Discovered the husband had a mistress (he denied everything, even when the mistress' father stepped forward to say he is living with her)
3. Had to deal with the jerkwad myself since I report directly to him on the board
4. Aforementioned jerkwad disappeared, shirking his duties which made my job harder
5. After missing 3 straight meetings while barely doing any of his duties, he resigned via e-mail
6. Incompetent Veep had to step up and I had to deal with the moron myself
7. Wife asked me to talk to the friend because she was feeling down
8. Friend asked wife something about me; wife told her she trusts me and directly asked me to flirt with friend a bit - make her feel good and like a woman again

When we (friend and I) were getting to know each other a little bit better in the beginning, she asked me WHY her husband would leave her for a woman who is young.  My response was this - "He left you for a woman with no obligations in her world; no kid, no house to maintain, nothing.  Even her car and auto insurance is being paid for by her parents.  Remember, he said he didn't want responsibility and she fits the bill."

I have discovered friend's mind to be incredibly beautiful and intoxicatingly erotic.  Could not get enough of her...she was incredibly smart and she held her own against me during our chats and I'd think this the whole time - "And he left her?  I'd never leave her!"

Right before the date for divorce to be finalized in court, he TRIED to get back together with her.  She did waver on that a little.  I knew why - it's the familiar feeling of having a security blanket.  I reinforced the very reason why he left and she never wavered again.  Despite his best efforts, friend walked into the court, signed the papers, and walked out.  She showed me her text to the mistress afterward, "It's over, you can have him now."

Then...softball season came around.  Come back next week for that...if you want.  :)

Spring Break From Hell!

Thanks to my eperience with Spring Break from Hell, I can't stand any type of strobes. Not even those used at parties or dances. Just triggers the preconditioned headache.

This happened in my second year at an university when I made the ill-fated decision to stay there over the spring break. I didn't budget carefully and when I made my decision, I had just $10 in my account.

After I blew my $10 on 10 days' worth of bread and soup, I returned to my dorm room and found a note stuck on the door. It read, "We will be testing the fire alarms over the next three days for testing and maintenance."

I thought nothing of that - I had gone through the nights when someone thought it was funny to pull a fire alarm at 3 am. I had no idea what was in store for me in sheer terms of misery.

First day, the fire alarms went off with the strobe lights flashing. I went to a friend's room and we thought it was enough to put a cup over the strobe. The flashing seemed to get brighter and brighter, to the point where it was annoying us. I got a plastic bag and stuffed it into the cup before putting it back on the strobe. Ah...but the victory was short-lived. The strobe light was determined to shine through 2 inches of plastic and it did.

It stopped after three hours. I had an headache. We thought it would be about the same length of time used to test the strobes for the next day. We were ready for the light. We got three cups stacked on top of each other with paper lining the inside, the bottom cup was stuffed extra-full of plastic bags, and the shield was taped tightly over the light to prevent any light escaping. The test commenced and we almost couldn't see the light at all. Suh-weet!

We started to notice the flashing from the stobe. The flashes were getting stronger and stronger...I checked the clock and saw it had been 3 hours already and it was still flashing. My headache was back. And flashing. 4 hours. And flashing. Headache was so strong that my eyes were hurting. AND flashing. AND FLASHING. AND FLASHING! AND FLASHING!!!!!!!!

We fled the dormitory for the mall. It was actually weird to see all floors of the dormitory flashing in random sequences as if there were gunfights all over. When the madness finally stopped an hour later, we returned to his room and we were shocked to discover that the bags in the shield had melted a bit from the heat of constant flashing.

Because of the heat and the intensity of the strobe, we decided to not cover the strobe up at all and we would leave the dorm before the testing started again on third day. It took them 9 hours to finish and I was thoroughly familar with the mall. Having lived on bread and soup for 10 days, the cafeteria food had never tasted better than the day after spring break ended.

It's easy to overlook something when you're not disabled...

A prime example is this funny comic strip...

This actually happened to me once. I had a doctor's appointment in the morning; I preferred mornings because it was far easier to see the doctor in the morning than in the afternoon when the doctor has already fallen behind schedule.

After the appointment, I arrived at work and decided to park outside instead of the parking garage because I knew there wouldn't be any decent parking spot left. I went into the building through the front doors. What caught my attention was lack of people on the first floor - this area is where people come in to pay what they owe. Not a single soul...not even behind the counters.

I shrugged and went up to third floor. When I opened the door to third floor, there was nobody around. I started to freak a little...even thought that maybe I came in on a non-business day or even worse...I was in an alternate reality.

After looking around a little, I went into the bathroom. After finishing my business in there, I ran into my supervisor as he headed into the bathroom. He was relieved to see me. I asked where everyone had gone. He said that there was a fire evacuation drill and he was surprised that I could not hear the strident WHEE-oo WHEE-oo alarm.

I asked him how he knew I was here and he said someone had spotted me. He thought I had gone to my desk, but I wasn't there and he freaked out a little. I probably took a year or two off his life. Hmm.

This is WHY workplaces should be mandated to have strobe (flashing) fire alarms. Shortly after that incident, every floor was equipped with strobe fire alarms.

Oh boy, that reminds me of the spring break from Hell...which I will post shortly after this. ;)

Say What? "Grunges"

Me (after pointing at the branches in the trunk of my car): What should I do with all these sticks?

Wife: Where are they from?

Me (as wife bends down and away from me to pick up bags): From the backyard, when I cleaned up all the (indecipherable).

Wife: Grunges??? HUH?

Me *ennunciating*: Branches

Wife: Ohhh. I thought you said (fingerspells) G-R-U-N-G-E-S

I love having my own Say What moments at someone else's expense. ;)

Feeling a lot like Forrest Gump...

Lately, I have been feeling a lot like Forrest Gump. If you will recall in the movie, Forrest started running. And running. And running. He ran all the way to one side of America and turned around and ran to the other side of America before turning around again.

He gained a dedicated group of followers before he stopped running and simply went home.

The point?

I stopped writing back in late August...what you are seeing is a whole bunch of posts that were ready and waiting to be published. Occasionally, something would pop up and I would add a new post to the queque. Right now, there are only three posts left to go with two drafts.

I tried to keep up with the blog reads. I tried to respond to the comments left on my posts. I tried to keep with the chats. I started to fall off when school started and I began to tutor more than one student at a time when I was averaging one a day in previous semesters. Combined with the duties as a director for a center, my free time quickly disappeared.

When I am discharged from my duties as both the director and a tutor, I will start writing and visiting again. Right now...I have stopped running, and it's time to go home.

I really have loved writing as DCHY and I have appreciated every one of my followers who took time to leave comments, start chats with me, and/or leave e-mail in my inbox.