Stevie

When a dozen or so 8-year-old kids run onto a baseball field for their first practice it's hard not to notice the range of skills.  My son Ryan is an excellent athlete but we insisted that he participate in the "Community League" first before the "real" little league. So it was coach pitch the first season, no score kept, just for fun. 

The second season came around and we had a kid on the team who was nowhere athletically. Obviously never had a mitt on his hand before, actually closed his eyes and stuck his hand out when a ball came his way, just really, really no skills. So we went through the first couple of practices trying to move him along, with other kids a little annoyed that Stevie was getting so much attention, and not making any progress. 

During the last practice before the first game, one of the coaches came to me and asked me to throw to Stevie until he got a hit while he worked in the outfield with the rest of the kids. 7, 8, 9 pitches later, Stevie is nowhere closer to getting a hit. So I stopped and chatted with Stevie. I asked him, 

"Stevie, what are you thinking about when you are in the batter's box with the bat in your hand?"

He said "Sometimes I want a home run for my mom, and sometimes I want a home run for my brother and ..."

He was talking so fast, I stopped him and asked again. "What are you thinking about?" 

He said, "Sometimes I want a home run for my mom, and sometimes I want a home run for my brother and ..."  

So I stopped him again and said "OK, if you want a home run, what do you have to do first?"

He got an inquisitive look on his face and said, "Hit the ball?"

I said "Exactly!"

He hit the next 4 pitches in a row.

I told the other coaches he was ready. They didn't believe me, but I thought he would be OK.

So the first game of the season came and Stevie was batting 9th. I wandered to the end of the bench and asked him what he was thinking about and he gritted his teeth and said "Hit the ball".

Stevie got up to bat and to my surprise, he takes the first two pitches and stands in there 2-0. I didn't think about a walk for him, but that would work. But the next pitch he leaned back and hit a line drive over the second baseman's head for a single and he is one for one to start the season. Then suddenly I realize someone is screaming from the stands. Still screaming. Sounds like a heart attack. It is Stevie's mom who is in shock that Stevie got a hit. Stevie went 2-3 that day and wound up being a good hitter. 

After that first game, Stevie's mom asked me,

"Dave how did you teach Stevie to hit?" 

"I reminded him that a hit is what he has to do first. He wanted a home run for you"

So a kid with literally no skills changes his focus a tiny bit and gets big results. 

I always say what you focus on grows in your life. 

It is axiomatic.

The Championship Season

I have told this story so many times, I figured it must be out there in the blogosphere somewhere. But I have changed computers several times since June 20, 2000, and a digital version has not revealed itself so here goes. It seems like yesterday to this old dad. My son Ryan had played for two years in the "community" baseball league. This was the league where anyone who raised their hand could pitch a maximum a two innings per game, scores were not posted and talent was scarce due to local talent already signing up for the "real" little league. Ryan was tenacious and determined to play in the "real" Little League".  And he demonstrated several times that he had a cannon for an arm, even for an 11-year-old.  He struck out every batter he faced the first season he pitched. One day he complained to me that he did not get to pitch very much because of all the strikeouts he rang up.  The very next game he went 3-0 on the first 3 batters but proceeded to strike them all out. On six pitches each.

 Very much in the forefront of his mind was the then popularity of one George Kenneth Griffey Junior, and how Ryan might match the popularity and bankroll of the MLB standout.  As a young father trying to instill modesty and humility into his son, comments like, "How much does Griffey make every time he hits a home run?", were disconcerting to say the least. 

But moving up to the real Little League he was faced with a qualifier: Tryouts. So in February, I suggested that we get out the gloves and do some throwing. The weather was awful that year and I don't think we threw more than twice before the March tryout date. Being dumped on a field with 80 other kids who had played in the "real" Little League for two years was an experience. Despite an off day with a couple of fielding errors and few hits, Ryan was drafted by the Purdy Pilots. About three weeks later the first practice rolled around.  The coach had returning players that he knew could pitch so the first couple of practices Ryan spent time in the outfield and lots of time in the batter's box. During the third practice, the coach polled the players to see if anyone else wanted to try out for the pitching staff. Ryan quietly raised his hand and soon he was on the mound pitching to the coach.  The first couple of pitches were fastballs right down the alley. But the coach wanted to see more. About four fastballs later he exclaimed, "We have a pitcher! We have a PITCHER!"  

 So for the first game, it was pretty apparent that Ryan would be the starting pitcher.  Ryan went so far as to suggest that I "strongly recommend to the coach" that he start.  I declined that suggestion and reminded Ryan that his performance will dictate his position.