“Hi everybody… My name is Heavy D… and… I am a football-aholic.”
I grew up living and breathing football. For me, other sports were nothing more than just diversions to pass the time and a way to stay in shape until two-a-days started again. I played football in high school and college and started coaching pee-wee teams years before I had children of my own. Coaching football not only satisfies my competitive spirit, I found the greatest satisfaction comes from working with the kids. There is nothing more rewarding than watching a kid who started the season with no skill or ability work hard, learn the fundamentals and develop into a serviceable player. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy working with the exceptional athletes as well, but the small victories and minor successes don’t mean as much to them. Seeing a kid who started the season as just a name on the roster blossom into a valuable contributor to the team is what keeps me coming back year after year. I often wish I had pursued coaching football as a profession, but that’s a whole other story…
I have had the privilege of coaching my son’s football teams since he has been old enough to play and I have loved every minute of it. The coach/player/father/son mix never had an adverse effect on our relationship. It was a great way for us to spend time together and we both have fond memories of out time together on the field. My son likes football, but much to my chagrin, he loves baseball. I know that I am destined for heartbreak in the coming years, as he will probably not play football in high school. I have seen the writing on the wall for the past couple of years, but it will still sting whenever he finally gives it up for good.
Although I played baseball in HS, I have never felt that I would be a good baseball coach. My knowledge of the finer points of the game are limited and quite honestly, I didn't develop a passion for the game until recently. At first I was somewhat disinterested in the X’s and O’s of baseball, but my son’s love of the game eventually started rubbing off on me. I knew I was in hooked when I found myself using baseball analogies to illustrate points at football practices.
My son’s knowledge of the game is greater than my own, but I am learning fast. I find myself listening to the coaches as they instruct and paying attention to what they are telling the boys to do, almost as if I were preparing myself to play. Even though I am in no way knowledgeable enough or qualified to coach him or any other kid on the field, I want to know how I can help my son improve when we are at home. For instance, I couldn’t even begin to analyze another player’s swing; I would have no idea what another kid is doing right and what he is doing wrong. But my son is different, I have seen him swing a bat millions of times and I can tell when he is dropping his hands or is doing something wrong. I just don’t know why he is doing it or how to correct it… But as he learns, so do I! I do my best to watch and understand what his coaches are trying to accomplish with him so when I echo their instructions at home, its not just hollow talk.
As much as I regret that our time together as a coach/player is in the past and that I won’t be on the field with him again in the future, I really enjoy the role of being a baseball Dad in the bleachers, student of the game in my spare time and part-time tutor at home.
Being a "dad" rather than a "coach" and learing the great game of baseball along side my son has eclipsed any satisfaction that I realized while coaching him on the football field. The minor victories and small successes mean so much more because we both learned something new... together. I feel like I am the kid who started the season as just a name on the roster and that my son is helping me blossom into a serviceable coach. I also think that a key dynamic to our situation is that HE wants it as much or more than I WANT IT FOR HIM. In football, I felt like I needed to "push" him to make him better. With baseball, we push each other, almost like teammates with differing roles. I love the time that I get to spend with him and hope that he continues to want me on his "team" for a long time to come. So long as he wants me to be involved, asks for my thoughts and keeps dragging me to the cage to “help” him, I will gladly and thankfully do so.
I may never completely get over the fact that my son doesn’t love football like I do, but if given enough time I can see myself switching addictions and becoming a baseball-aholic.
Thank the Lord my kids don’t play dalmatian-kick-ball!