Wednesday, March 26, 2014

My mound; My terms

Good morning! The beast has been quietly placed back into the cage. Unfortunately, I have not spoken to the kid since our "discussion" but he has kept in touch through dad and his journal.

The journal is a great idea for an introvert who needs a way to express his or her feelings in the only way that they know how. Sadly, since he is an introvert and quiet, he is greatly misunderstood by the team and his coaches. If someone would take the time to connect, they would be pleasantly surprised by his dedication, kindness, intensity, and work ethic. Yet, this is not the case when millenials are accustomed to instant gratification. They do not want to work for their knowledge and therefore use the internet to attain quick information. With that said, I received the latest installment of the journal last night.....

This is an amazing person who has been bounced on his head a number of times, insulted, called 'retarded', told to slit his wrists, benched for being too quiet, yelled at for talking too much, and assured that he has been ruined. What's a momma to do? Nada. I cannot do a thing but listen, and keep the beast in a cage. When I rage, it is through frustration with the process. I am not helping by getting angry, but on Monday, I felt that he needed to hear it. I could not stand by and listen to a defeatist attitude, because I know that it is the pain talking and not him. With that said, he is one good guy and I am humbled by the way that he has bounced back. Here is his plan (in a nutshell)....

He knows that the Pitching Doctor knows his stuff. The coaches are intimidated by his knowledge, hate change, think they have all of the answers, and rather than listening to the physics of the pitch, they choose to call him names and belittle him. They bench him. What they tend to forget is that most winning teams are incorporating this program. In addition, the PD is now the pitching coach of a major league baseball team. Hmmmm.....he knows his stuff. lastly, with the program, the kid's fast ball without even trying is 91 mph. Yet....he knows nothing as the starters are pitching max 88.

Ok, here is the plan....don't tell anyone....he is going back to the PD program. He will use his legs, weighted balls, and arm care. He feels amazing since he went back to his program. Further, he can throw the 300+ yards without a hop. This is a kid with an arm and the potential to dominate.

he is going to use his legs and the program. If he is going to be benched and humiliated, it will be on his terms. He is no longer going to follow the coaches instructions as far as technique is concerned and therefore will follow his own program. If he succeeds, he succeeds. If he fails, it will be on his terms and he will never look back and say: "I wish that I had enough courage to use the techniques that I know will improve my performance."

With that said, the new leftie takes the mound in a scrimmage today. He is preparing mentally and physically. He is ready to go. Tomorrow, I will update readers on how he did.

This weekend, the conference games begin. I feel that the team has a false sense of security and bravado as they defeated two incredibly bad teams narrowly last week. They have a pumped up sense of accomplishment. It was as if they played a high school team, except the high school team might have beaten them.

As I said to the big kid, they have no idea. They pound on each others' backs and jump up and down. The coaches give speeches on how tough the team is but let me tell ya', BP grandmom could have struck some of these batters out. Stevie Wonder could have done it too. Hey, if I had a decent elbow, I might have had a chance.

With that said, I am not 'sour grapes' but a person who is looking at what happens and seeing these games objectively. After all, my kid is not playing, so it is as if I am watching a typical sports game. With the number of years watching baseball under my belt, I know good and bad playing. Time will tell as they take the field this weekend.

'nuff said....time to work.


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