{"id":4926,"date":"2015-07-05T08:18:20","date_gmt":"2015-07-05T12:18:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/intramuralist.com\/?p=4926"},"modified":"2015-07-05T08:33:44","modified_gmt":"2015-07-05T12:33:44","slug":"the-end","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/intramuralist.com\/?p=4926","title":{"rendered":"the end"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"10580961_888226557873468_262660009435600209_o\"<\/a>As expected, I spent our nation\u2019s annual Independence Day pretty much consistent with the past dozen years \u2014 as any baseball parent will tell you \u2014 dust flying, sweat dripping, lots and lots of testosterone, at the diamond with a complete slew of games. With tournaments for the older two boys and my youngest proudly fulfilling his role as a \u201cbatboy\u201d (not too far a stretch from his revered perception of a \u201cbatman\u201d),<\/em> our day was full.<\/p>\n

Amidst the fullness, however, one significant moment stood out\u2026<\/p>\n

There was my interaction with the opposing coach\u2026 who when I conferred with him at the end of an inning to ensure our individual scorekeeping was in sync, he was silent about an inaccuracy in the scoring \u2014 because, as he soon acknowledged, he was \u201choping you didn\u2019t catch it.\u201d I wondered how often are we silent\u2026 because a miscommunication benefits self. But alas, this wasn\u2019t the moment that stood out.<\/p>\n

There was the umpire who made an obvious wrong call, calling a ball \u201cfoul\u201d after it touched the catcher in fair territory. He didn\u2019t see it, but upon confrontation, he simply entertained no dissent. I saw the ball. My angle was actually clearer than his. It mattered not; as said, he entertained no dissent. How often do we simply refuse to entertain dissent or opposing viewpoints? \u2026 especially if it means being humble enough to acknowledge a mistake? Again, alas, such was not the moment that stood out.<\/p>\n

There was also the interaction with the fans in the stands of the opposing team. Over these past dozen years, at times it\u2019s been my privilege to coach third base. Yesterday that meant a proximity far closer to persons I knew not nor with whom I shared the same passions or loyalties. It mattered not; we were able to talk about things more important than baseball (\u2026yes, there are things more important than baseball, sports, games, you-name-it\u2026).<\/em>\u00a0Still, though, this was not the moment that stood out most to me.<\/p>\n

For the second in our slew of games, my oldest son was on the mound. Ever since those initial, teeny tee ball days, Jake has found solace and success on the pitcher\u2019s mound. This game, however \u2014 if lost \u2014 would be his last. (Note: church softball leagues come next.)<\/em> As the tight game continued on \u2014 and as victory was in jeopardy \u2014 this moment began to stand out.<\/p>\n

Let me first note that this is a recreational league. After years of select baseball and select, select<\/em> baseball, my boy and his buddies simply decided it would be a blast to play rec after the completion of their high school season. The goal was to play hard and have fun. That, they accomplished.<\/p>\n

But as the game continued and I was keenly aware we were nearing the end, my mind rapidly sorted through the past 18 years. I sorted through Jake\u2019s successes\u2026 his failures\u2026 and his failures that have led to obvious growth and successes\u2026<\/p>\n

I thought through all the moments we cheered\u2026 and still, too, the moments we walked away\u2026 in silence, tears, even disgust.<\/p>\n

I must say I wondered how I would feel in this moment. Would I grimace? Would I cry? How would I feel at the actual end?\u2028\u2028 Friends, I understand the tears. I get the many who find the moment \u2014 the end to a past mainstay activity as sad or bittersweet. But that wasn\u2019t how I felt yesterday. Maybe it\u2019s been all that\u2019s happened in the past few months. Maybe its been the depth of our sorrow and the height of our joy. I wasn\u2019t sad.\u2028\u2028 I see the end of Jake\u2019s past, promising baseball career as the necessary entrance into what\u2019s next. At 18, there is obviously so much<\/em> ahead of him \u2014 for each<\/em> of our youth \u2014 so many good things! Jake\u2019s solace and success on the mound has thus helped prepare him for what\u2019s next. My whole heart celebrates whatever that is.<\/p>\n

Hence, as the final innings evolved and Jake was still on the mound \u2014 now going longer than expected, Jake told me he unfortunately needed to leave the game early; he had to get to work. Duty calls, as the summer before freshman year, these kids have to raise money for college. Work comes before recreational sports.<\/p>\n

And so there Jake went, pitching through a final inning, striking out the last batter he would ever face for out number three. He walked off the mound a final\u00a0time. High fives. He then left the field… and went to work.<\/p>\n

Fitting…<\/p>\n

Well done, son. Happy Independence Day…<\/p>\n

Respectfully\u2026
\nAR<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As expected, I spent our nation\u2019s annual Independence Day pretty much consistent with the past dozen years \u2014 as any baseball parent will tell you \u2014 dust flying, sweat dripping, lots and lots of testosterone, at the diamond with a complete slew of games. With tournaments for the older two boys and my youngest proudly … <\/p>\n

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