Movin on....back to the bleachers

Greetings! It's back to work after my spring break. Usually, I am bummed to be back at work, but lately I have been grateful...especially since the university is having financial difficulties. How so? Well, they are in the hole by millions. This cannot be amended with my sofa change. It requires a zillionaire to say: "Hey, BP mom....want a few million ?" Sadly, I do not know any zillionaires so, we tighten our belts and teach on shoe strings. 

That means....it is a no frills education. Quality...but no extras like super- technology, SMART boards, and clickers. Guess what? With our no frills education, our students score the highest percentage rates in the nation on their boards. What does that say about the universities that have a billion dollar endowment? Perhaps, nothing replaces diligent students and good teaching. I think....



On to the big leftie. I have not seen him in days...actually since last Thursday. He is working around the clock trying to earn money for law school. He teaches pitching in the evenings and on weekends and sits at the desk at the health club during the other hours. He can work up to 40 hours during the weekend. Dedication, eh?

He has complained about the parents of the kids that he coaches. They want a magic pill or magic words that change their duds into studs. Last week, he sent a boy home who would not shake his hand, speak to him, and told him to shut up. Yep, he used the "s" word. In our home, the "s" word in shut up is worst than the real "s" word, so the former pitcher saw fire and sent him packing. His boss (who is one year older) congratulated him and told him that they did not want kids like that in the program. 

I do recall the days of sitting in the stands when the parents would complain abut the coaches. Since dad was one of them, I was known by the group so no one said anything to me....however, if you are a regular reader, I did have words with a chunky father after he made a major dis in the stands about dad (a volunteer). He said that he wished dad would leave but the big leftie could stay as he spit out his sunflower seeds and drank his Diet Coke. The rookie mistake that he made was that Tink was sitting directly behind him and heard everything.

Aghast, she called me crying.

Fade to black....

Tink: "Mom, they are saying mean things about dad."



BP M: "what kind of mean things?"

Tink: "They say he is mean and should leave, but leftie can stay. Then they laughed and continued to be meaner. I had to walk away when I started to cry."

"BP M: "I am on my way...."

Seeing red, white, and blue, I jumped in the BP mom-mobile (it is not red....not a mustang...and not a convertible....just a plain old SUV with cleats, balls, bats, and mud in it).

Why was I livid? After all, this is a game and dad volunteers his time to develop the kids. His time on the field means less time in the office and fewer billable hours (which life is not about, but the point is....he gave up a great deal to coach other parents' children while they sat in the stands, ate sunflower seeds, and sipped diet cokes.)

I was in my packing the house  since we were moving that week...and walked briskly to the stands.

Tink, standing away from the stands was still a bit misty when I said: "Point him out."

Tink pointed and yep....the big mouth was an out of shape, mouthy guy who complains about everything and does nothing.

"Excuse me, dad of the short stop....can we speak quietly over here?" as I pointed to the third base side of the field.

"Sure..."


He looked around to see if he had any assistance from the other parents who put their heads down but had one eye glancing in our direction. He was on his own....

BPM: "So....I hear that you have been talking smack about one of the coaches."


Silence.

BPM: "Did you know......." and I let him have it in a nice way...pointing out facts... figures...I used an Excel  spreadsheet and Power Point presentation to explain his wrong doings.He was catching on quickly. He would have aced the final exam.

My last words were a figurative punch in the gut...."If you speak ill of others, which I am sure you will after this...make sure that a member of their family is not present to hear your evil words. You made my daughter cry and that is not alright with me. Got it?"



He continued to look down and apologized. I shook his hand and sent him back to his cronies to share with them that he was right and now they not only hate dad but me too.

Would I do it again?



What do you think? It's like one  of  of my favorite lines in  Clint Eastwood movies.......go ahead...make my day"

The moral of this story is two fold. First, when you throw dirt at another, make sure your own house is clean. Second, BP momma takes care of her own....don't mess with her.



OK, time to work out....

Peace!