I received a call last night from the big kid. He was upset so I knew that it had to do with the scrimmage, and as he began, I felt so bad that I started with the tears (just light ones...not a sob...just a few tears).....As he tried to explain why he was so upset, he mentioned that he is so anxious about his uncle Big M who is one of his heroes. Being three hours away and unable to visit has taken a toll on him as he wants to leave campus as soon as he can....then he went into....
"I have it all.....everything....even a cadillac to drive around in with a great apartment...a selfless sister....two parents who would do anything for me....a family who is the greatest....but I am so sad...."
That's when I started to whimper...."don't be. Big M will be OK. He's a fighter and so are you. Find a friend to talk to..."
"No one is around and I really don't have many friends...."
Now I know that he is not thinking straight, 'cause he has a large circle of buds and can text anyone for a date or good time at a pub. So, there must be more. Sadly, I was too upset to pull it out of him when dad walked through the kitchen door. Whew...the cavalry has arrived. I didn't want to bail on the call, but I was not in the best frame of mind so I was non therapeutic....
And so, dad took over, calmed and allayed the kid's fears and eventually hung up the phone. On the other hand, I opened a chilled bottle of pinot grigio and poured myself a tall....and I do mean 'tall' glass.
It seems that he gave up two runs in four innings and had one bad inning. The bright spot was that he had three great innings. He also said that he pitched well. Here is the basis for his anxiety....
As he was feeling pretty good advocating for himself against the twit Trainer whom I will call Napoleon, Napoleon obviously got to the coach and reported the leftie for his insubordination. As a result, the coach screamed at him yet again about following the protocol that Napoleon has created. It seems that this is the coach's way to dominate his players as he screams obscenities at them. With that said, he was once again humiliated for standing up for himself and his arm. Therein lies the reason for his meltdown last night.
Want my take? Huh? Are you ready? 'cause here it comes....
As an academic...yep, I have a doctorate which means that I have a keen sense of critical thinking. Am I bloviating? Nope...I would not have earned the degree without having the ability to figure out problems and process issues. That's a fact.
On to this issue...I have watched over the last three+ years how the trainers at this elite university have completely screwed up the pitchers' arms. In fact, having 11 surgeries in three years is 11 too many. Most programs do not have any surgeries because they know how to train pitchers.
Furthermore, with my connections, I have found the best doctors, physical therapists, and trainers in the country, if not world (am I bloviating again? No, just another fact. I do my research and do not take 'no' for an answer when someone turns me down). These doctors....the best doctors....internationally known told the kid to his face that he is never to lift a weight over his head. Never...and what does Napoleon do? He has them lift weights...not only over their heads on a regular basis but also on a game day. Once again, even Diva knows that this is wrong, wrong, wrong....
As the kid tries to protect his arm and his dream, the coach whom I will now refer to as "The Maniac" or TM for short, screams, belittles, humiliates, and humbles these guys with big dreams. What do I say to that? "Uh, let me at him....." But I cannot do this. Therefore, I will berate and reprimand him in the only format that I can until the kid graduates then I PUBLISH THIS BLOG. And rather than coding the names of the coaches, I will name names and thereby share with the world their philosophies of coaching and training. In fact, I will also add the research to support that my kid and the experts are right; and as a result TM and Napoleon will be serving him fries with his Big Meal at McDonalds in a few years. Just sayin'.....
Am I peeved? Oh yeah....peeved is not the word, but I will find better adjectives as fall ball finally ends and my boy can return home to visit his family and friends. Until then, I have to control my feelings and emotions and be a better support for him. It is a time like this that I miss tennis, 'cause I would love to be able to hit the little ball around the court and release my frustrations. Until then I have to be content to Sh'Bam at the Y until I can Sh'Bam the organization at the end of the kid's college career. And believe me, look out....I am collecting my data and will use it in a few months.
Ok, gottta go and grade papers....Peace!
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