Leave It On The Field!

I know you’ve heard that expression before and quite probably, in any number of situations.

In my second year as a head coach, I recall one particular game where we were struggling.  Really, really struggling.  We had a couple of players injured and who either couldn’t play or who didn’t play much.  We had a couple of players who fouled out.  And, we had a couple players who were in foul trouble that I had to sit out until an opportune time when I needed them the most.  As I said, we really struggled.

To put this in perspective, we were a “run and gun” team.  We’re talking up and down the court nonstop from buzzer to buzzer.  The whole game.  Every game.  Coaches and their teams knew that when they came to play us, they’d be better off wearing track shoes rather than basketball shoes.

In this particular game, we were either tied or within a point or two the entire game.  We began the second overtime. One of my big guys, Ryan, was absolutely spent.  There was no gas left in his tank.  None.  In fact, he was playing on fumes for most of the fourth quarter and into the second overtime. 

At one point during the second OT, Ryan fell to his knees, somehow got back up on his feet, wobbled a bit, bent over at the waist and made eye contact with me.  Helpless, I looked back at him, shook my head and said, “Ryan, I have no one left.  You’re all I’ve got!  You’re it!”  That’s pretty close to the message I gave him.  I know Ryan didn’t want that message, but it was the only message I had for him.  My bag of tricks was as empty as was his gas tank.

Ryan looked at me.  He sighed.  He kept playing.  And by some miracle, we won.  He wasn’t the hero.  No last second shot by Ryan.  He just played and gave it all he had and then some.

Leave It On The Field!

Ryan is one example.  I’ve coached other kids who had much greater talent and ability than Ryan did.  Yet, they never put out the time, the energy, the effort that Ryan did.  Bugged the daylights out of me.  No amount of motivation or inspiration could move them to put forth the effort.

Sometimes we see that in life. 

Sometimes in the lives of the people around us.  Those who are near and dear, as well as those we are around and bump into every so often.  Sometimes in our own lives.  Sometimes in our jobs.  Sometimes in our relationships with others.  With their relationships with us.

Something is held back.  Withheld.  Sometimes a little.  Sometimes a lot.

We feel cheated.  We feel hurt.  Sometimes we cheat.  Sometimes we hurt.  We might wonder if it was something we did.  We might wonder if there was something we should have done, something we should have said. 

Most of the time, however, it’s just as simple as not Leaving It On The Field.

I wonder if there are areas in my own life where I need to check, to look at closely.  I wonder if there are places and times where I take it too easy, don’t put forth the effort.  Times when I say, “It’s good enough!”  when it really isn’t.  There are times when I wonder if I Leave It On The Field – of life, of love.  Sometimes I wonder.   Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

No Excuses!

Flavio (name changed) was a senior on my caseload as a counselor.  He and I had a rocky start.  Behind in credits.  Not a particularly strong student.  Tough background.  Poor. 

I brought him in early in the year to talk about whether or not he wanted to graduate.  Actually, he ignored my call slips.  Not once, but twice.  So, I sent security to escort him to my office.  I ranted and raved.  He fussed and fumed.  But, he agreed . . . grudgingly . . . to come see me when he received one of my call slips.

To test that, I sent for him the very next day and as promised, he came.  He slouched down in the chair, stretched out his legs, folded his arms and scowled at me. 

I ignored it. 

Instead, I presented him with a program, a work program where not only he could earn credits, but also receive the training for a job.  That got his interest.  He actually sat up and stopped scowling.  Hmmm . . .

I met Jamal (name changed) when he was a skinny freshman.  He came to school to register, accompanied by his father and step-brother.  He liked writing.  Seemed curious, interested.  Quiet, but smiled shyly.

Two boys. Same school.  Different backgrounds.  Different, but similar.

I would check in with Flavio once a week or so to see how he was doing.  Eventually, I didn’t have to send for him.  He started to come to see me on his own, without a call slip and without the security escort.

He and I talked about other things besides school.  He was a borderline gang-banger.  He stole.  He got into fights because he was angry.  He ran with a ‘crew’ because he liked the thrill. 

I kept redirecting him back to “What’s your goal? What do you want in life- right now?  Next year?”

Flavio got himself jumped out of his ‘crew’.  Beaten up badly.  When I visited him, I barely recognized him.  Bruised, battered, swollen.  But . . . happy, relieved.

Jamal lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his dad and his dad’s wife, his step-brother and two step-sisters.  His biological mother was in jail for drug abuse.  Jamal slept on the floor.  No mattress.  Not even a couch.  Just a blanket to throw over him to keep him warm.

But he came to school every day.  Worked hard.  Determined.  Excelled in football, wrestling and track.  And of course, writing. 

He visited with me once or twice a week too. 

Found out that he was living with his grandmother because neither his mother nor his father wanted him.  Unfortunately, he came home from a pick-up basketball game and discovered his grandmother dead on the kitchen floor.  Heart attack.  At one point during his high school years, Jamal’s father also ended up in jail.  So did his step-brother.  He could have been swept up in a gang like many of his friends.  No, he stayed away.  Spent time in the two-bedroom apartment where he wasn’t particularly wanted.  Not really wanted at all.

Flavio and Jamal.  Two boys.  Tough backgrounds.  Tough, if not impossible, lives. 

Two boys in the same graduating class.  Yes, they graduated.

Flavio was the first male in four generations to graduate from high school.  He received his high school diploma, stepped off the stage, sought me out and he hugged me for what seemed an eternity.  He and I wept together.  Happy tears.  Tears of joy.  Loved that kid.

Jamal went through the same graduation.  Received his diploma, stepped off the stage and picked me up in a bear hug and spun me in a circle.  Happy.  Giddy.  Laughing.  Loved him too.

Two boys with impossible backgrounds.  Impossible lives.  Not much support.  Poor.  Impoverished.

Yet, neither boy made Excuses.  No Excuses.  They worked hard.  They gutted it out.  Both determined to make something of himself . . . themselves.  No Excuses.  Not poverty.  Not a lot of family support.

Now? 

Flavio went to a tech school for drafting.  Jamal went to college on a football scholarship, became a counselor and is now an administrator.  Make no mistake- it wasn’t me!  The only thing I did was open a door.  I lent a hand.  I guided.  That’s it.  That’s all.  They did the work.  They made the decision to change, to do better.  They decided to go through the door held open to them.  Those two young men were the ones who succeeded. Only those two young men deserve the credit- no one else!

Both young men could have hidden themselves under the cloak of “Ain’t it awful”.  Both young men could have thrown in the towel.  But instead, there were No Excuses made by either of them.  They made tough choices.  They worked hard.  They didn’t let life and it pitfalls do them in.  Instead, they rose above their given lot in life.  Instead, they seized opportunities given to them.  No Excuses.  If those two young men could, anyone can.  We can.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

David's First Battle

As a former coach, I have lots of stories.  Some happy, some sad, some exciting.  I remember one in particular . . .

My team, ranked in state, had to play another team in our conference that was ranked above us.  Both teams had a “feature” player.  Both teams had a solid core of talent.  By any account, it was to be an exciting game and as you can imagine, the gym was packed.

While the junior varsity team played their game, I wandered into the locker room and was surprised to see “my star player” sitting on a bench in front of a locker by himself, holding his head in his hands.  I thought he was just getting himself ready, getting himself fired up.

I sat down next to him and asked something like, “Are you ready?”  He took has hands away and I noticed he was weeping.  He said, “Coach, I think I’m going to choke.”  Not what I had expected to hear.  Not what any coach wants to hear, especially just before an important game- one that would eventually decide the conference championship.

He was honest and sincere.  He was also genuinely afraid.  And yes, in his own words, he choked.  Probably his worst game.  We got killed.  Not just because of this young man.  Not at all.  The team we played had a powerhouse, a juggernaut that went on to compete at the state tournament.  But we got killed and this young man didn’t play well at all. 

You might say he lived up to his expectations.

Remember the story about David and Goliath?  I don’t know if it is or was a true story, but like many such stories, there is a point to it and one can take something from it . . . if one chooses to, that is.

David was just a boy.  He volunteered to take on this beast, this giant of a man.  David tried to wear the king’s armor, but because David was so small, nothing fit.  The armor would have been more of a hindrance than a help, so David went into combat only wearing the simple cloak he had on.

Not sure what weapon Goliath used.  Spear or sword, perhaps.  As big as I picture Goliath to be, perhaps just his bare hands. 

David’s weapon?  A slingshot and a few stones.  Hmmmm . . .

Not sure what the king was thinking.  Not sure what Goliath’s king was thinking.  Not sure what Goliath was thinking.

Mostly, I’m not sure what David was thinking.  A boy vs. a man.  A little guy vs. a big man.  A slingshot?  Really?  You’ve got to be kidding, right?

As a coach, I went into games with the crew I had to work with.  As I look back, we mostly did all right.  Actually, far better than just all right.   

However, there were those games when, honestly, I sort of felt like how David’s king must have felt.

But that got me thinking . . .

Goliath was David’s second battle.  I think David had a much tougher battle before he ever fought Goliath.

I think David’s First Battle was a battle with himself.  He had to face, confront and defeat his own fear.  Sometimes fear is a very formidable opponent.  Fear is insidious.  It sneaks up on us and takes us by the throat and throttles us mercilessly.  It incapacitates us.  Renders us weak, befuddled, ineffective.  Fear renders us powerless, sometimes freezing us in place preventing us from moving forward or backward.

But David won his First Battle.  He overcame his fear.  He defeated his fear.  And as the story is told, he defeated Goliath and saved his nation.  Probably saved his king a ton of embarrassment, too.

Oh, and the young man I mentioned earlier who wept before the big game?

He might have lost that battle, that first battle.  But he overcame it a second and third time, not just one time.

You see, he went on to receive a football scholarship to a huge Midwest Division One college team that you’ve all heard of.  He went on to get himself drafted into the NFL.  He went on to play for two teams and had a nice career as a linebacker.  A very gifted athlete this young man was.  Who had to, at one time or another . . . just like each of us has to at one time or another . . . win his, win our, First Battle.  The battle over fear.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Change In The Air

I love fall.  By far, it is my favorite season.  It has always been my favorite season.

I love the colors of the trees.  The rusts.  The yellows.  The reds.  When one walks in the woods, there is that familiar sound, the crunch of leaves underfoot.  I don’t get to walk in the woods as much as I did as a kid . . . as much as I did when I was younger.

I love the Change In The Air.

There is a coolness, a crispness to the air.  Nature plays games with us because daytime can be hot and humid, but then evening slips in and carries with it a chill, a coolness.  A walk outside might turn a nose or a cheek to apple red.  A time for sweaters and sweatshirts.  Jeans and a jacket.  I had a favorite bright red sweater I wore as a kid.  Still see myself running around in the backyard with my brothers in my jeans with the cuffs rolled up.  Our cheeks and nose red from the chill.

I love the Change In The Air.

Cherry and apple pies.  Warm apple cider with cinnamon.  The smell of cookouts replaced by the smell of a wood fireplace. 

Happens every year.  Every year.  Every one of my fifty-nine years. 

The thing about change is that it happens.

It happens every year.  Over and over.  Time and again.

Nothing we can do to stop it.  Nothing we can do to prevent it from happening.  It is as natural and as normal as can be.

I’ve written about growing up next to a river.  That river has taught me a lot.  Sometimes I think that river . . . nature . . . has been my best teacher.  One of the things I’ve learned is that if you dip your fingertips into the river, even keeping your fingertips in the water, even for a long time, you never touch the same water again.  You never touch the same drops more than once. 

You see, water passes.  It moves on.  It never stays in one place.  The river is governed by the current and the current is the river’s master.  The current is always moving. 

Your fingertips might not move.  You can keep them as still as can be. 

But no matter. 

The river passes.  It moves on.  We move on.  We might not like it.  We can try to stop it.  We can fight it.  But the river, as does time, passes by.  It is a given in nature . . . our one great teacher.  Time, like the river, passes by.  It moves on.  And we move on.  We might try to snatch it out of the air.  We might try to grasp it.  We might try to hold onto it.  All in vain.  All in vain.

So we can fight it . . . or embrace it.  We can resist it . . . or accept it.  We can enjoy the colors, the cool, the crisp air . . . or dread it.  Fret about it.  Worry about it.  It won’t matter, because Change will occur whether or not we want it to.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Be That One!

Just for a moment, I’d like you to read this and then shut your eyes and answer it.  Ready?  Here we go . . .

Think back to a time when someone said or did something hurtful to you . . .  Shut your eyes and think about that for a moment.

Chances are, you thought of the person who said or did it, the time and place where it occurred, and the exact or nearly the exact words or actions that were used.  Some of you might even picture the time of day and what the weather was like.

For some of you, this took place years ago, but you remember as if it were yesterday.

How powerful words and actions are!

For me, it was early in the sixth grade.  We were on the playground and a group of my friends were standing around talking and as I approached them, one or two drifted away.  Three turned to me and one said, “I’m having some friends over and you’re not invited.”  He and the other two friends turned and walked away . . . laughing.  Yes, they laughed.

For the life of me, I can’t tell you why.  I can’t tell you what I had done or said.  I can’t even tell you what I didn’t do or didn’t say.  I was stunned.  These were my friends.  Guys I hung out with.  I had always done things with them.  Always.  I was one of them.  But now, I was excluded.  I didn’t know why and to this day, still don’t know why.  But I can tell you that I was hurt deeply. 

Now, I want you to read the next statement and then shut your eyes and answer it.  Ready?  Here we go . . .

Think back to a time when someone said or did something to you that made you feel so good . . . Shut your eyes and think about that for a moment.

Once again, chances are you thought of the person who said or did it, the time and place where it occurred, and the exact or nearly the exact words or actions that were used.  Some of you might even picture the time of day and what the weather was like.

And like the hurtful words or actions, perhaps, it occurred years ago, but you remember as if it were yesterday.

There were so many kind words and actions given to me over the years, that I’m having trouble choosing just one.  In fact, it was far easier to remember the hurtful words and actions than the more pleasant memory.

Interesting how that happens, isn’t it?

We might remember the negative far easier, and perhaps far longer, than we recall the positive. 

I think we need to remember, especially those in positions of authority, that our words and our actions mean something.  They have an impact- either positive or negative.  And sometimes the negative outlasts the positive.

Scary, really.

So my charge to you this day . . . my charge to you every day . . . is to choose your words and actions carefully and wisely.  We might not ever know what impact we might have on whom.  Further, I ask that you Be That One that makes a positive impact in what you say and in what you do.  Life is so short.  We need to help and not hurt.  We need to build up and not tear down.  Please, Be That One!  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!