Bobby Short

In a few days, it will be one year from the day that cancer took Bobby at age 43. He was a very special man and a great baseball coach.

I was privileged to be asked to speak at Bobby's funeral, and I thought as a tribute to him this month, that I'd post those words.

If you know the Short family, take the time to pick up the phone and call Rochelle, as I know she would appreciate it.


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Bobby Short was very special to me because he touched my whole family with his kindness and caring and his love and his laughter. I met Bobby a few years back when he coached my then 12 year old son’s baseball team.

I would wager a guess that a good portion of the people in this room were touched by Bobby thru baseball. It was a game that he loved, a passion that he not only shared with his own boys, but with the hundreds of boys he coached thru the years.

He coached my son during a very turbulent part of his life. I had just recently gotten divorced and remarried, and was in the middle of a legal battle trying to get custody of him. You see, his previous select baseball coach was what we call a screamer. He screamed at these 11 year old boys like they were college players and it nearly turned my son against the game he so loves.

Bobby took my son Nicholas under his wing and brought back his love of baseball. Over 3 seasons of baseball, my son first grew to respect and trust Bobby That trust turned into love.

Bobby and Nicholas shared a very special bond that went far beyond a child coach relationship.

We spent the better part of two years with Bobby as our coach. For those of you familiar with select baseball, that meant we spent more time with Bobby and Rochelle than we did with our own families. They became our family.

Rochelle and my wife Shannon would sit together for hours on end during baseball games. The boys played Mothers Day weekend, Fathers Day weekend, Memorial Day Weekend and July 4th. I remember him showing up one morning at Arc Park in Ft. Worth on a Saturday morning. We had played a Friday night game the night before and when it was over, Bobby had gotten in his truck and drove to Dallas to go to work the night shift. After he got off work, he drove straight back to Arc Park to coach two games that Saturday morning. You could tell he was tired. I joked with him between games that he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and maybe he needed to slow down. He got a straight face and he asked me? You callin’ me old? I was taken aback for a second thinking maybe I had insulted him. Then he just smiled and asked me if I wanted to race. Saying this old man can still beat you in a foot race.

He sacrificed better paying jobs, better work schedules, better standard of living and his body at times, not just for his own boys, but our boys.

Baseball is more than just a game about balls and strikes. It’s about the good people you meet along the way. It’s about the memories that you will share with your grandchildren.

If it wasn’t for Baseball, my son would never have known Bobby Short, and that would have been very sad.

After he quit coaching select baseball, I asked him once if the parents and the politics ruined it for him. He just got that big ole smile on his face and said….Awwww Doug, it’s not about the parents. You can’t let them bother you. I coached for the kids.

I remarked to Rochelle at the hospital the other day how if Bobby had a dollar for every ball he threw in batting practice, he would have been a rich man. I then paused for a minute and remarked that in fact, he was a rich man. Rich with the love of so many boys and young men whose lives he had touched thru the years.

I didn’t know Bobby as well as I wish I did, and we grew apart when our son’s started playing for different teams. We would still talk from time to time, to try to catch up on each others families. But it wasn’t the same as it was during those two plus years.

Those years were some of the best of my life, and ones I will be able to look back on with fond memories forever.

The excitement in my son’s eyes when the curveball that Bobby taught him actually worked in a game. The joy when the boys won, and laughter when Koby would crack a joke, the sadness at tough losses. Thru it all Bobby always had that big old smile on his face. The smile that told you there wasn’t a place on earth he’d rather be than on that ballfield.

Last Thursday when we went to go see Bobby at the hospital, it was tough for both my son and I to see Bobby suffering. Earlier that day, my son had dug thru his drawers and his closets on a mission. He found his old Flower Mound Renegades baseball jersey, the one he wore when he played for Bobby when he was 12 years old. I just knew it wouldn’t fit, but Nicholas made a way. He wore it to school that day as a tribute to his coach.

Bobby was in worse shape than we had expected, he was sleeping and was drugged up on all of the pain medication they had in him.

But we had a great visit with Rochelle catching up on each others families and remembering the old times. Every once in a while, Bobby would wake up and Rochelle would tell him that we were there, and he would open his eyes, but you really didn’t know if he knew. When we got ready to leave, Nicholas asked Rochelle if it was OK for him to give Bobby a hug. Rochelle said of course and proceeded to wake Bobby up enough to let him know that we were leaving. Bobby gathered the strength to wrap his arms around my son and whisper that he loved him and that he was proud of him in his ear.

Bobby had been listening to our stories and our conversation and was aware of his visitors right up to the end.

My son and I will remember that moment for the rest of our lives