Good morning. Happy day after Mother's Day to all. I would like to send a shout out to my own BP Grandmom who is amazing. Thanks for everything, BPGmom. You are the best-est!
On to the big kid....last that we heard, our hero was headed to see Yoda, his beloved PT, who gave him some very sound advice....
Kid, you are going no where until you have finished your rehab. In other words, no Seattle for a while.
Speaking of Seattle, Yoda is not convinced that this is the place for him. Valuing Yoda's opinion, I had misgivings about his weekend trip to see this velocity guru. Yet, he went anyway.
Here is what he discovered in the four-hour meeting....
1. They do not want anyone who is happy with 88. Agreed.
2. Once they viewed the university's training and strength routines, the director called it 'criminal.'
3. They concurred that if he was speaking the truth of how he was able to thrive in this 'back water' environment, then his potential is limitless.
4. He has high miles on him and battled injuries. Plus he is getting old, so his clock ticking.
5. They have an outlet to 8 major league teams, therefore, if he does well this summer and hits 95, they will send a call out.
All of this to say....hmmmm
The next step is to rehab to the point where he can train. This is where Yoda comes in. Therefore, the next few weeks will be spent returning to fighting form as demonstrated when he left the house after a cross country flight and dinner to throw his weighted balls and work out. The beast has been unleashed. He is passionate and ready for one last push to achieve his goal.
Next week, he and I will travel to Tampa to visit with one other training facility. This place is like the pitching doctor on steroids. So, we will check it out. He will weigh his options, then make his decision. We will then send him to either Tampa or Seattle for one last push.
What is going to happen?
Dang if I know. What I do know is that he will not leave any stone unturned. He is not going to be satisfied with a desk job and will land up doing something pretty cool if he does not pitch in the majors.
With that said, I have tons of work and meetings this week. I will try to keep you abreast of the activities as they occur.
Peace!
PS: Got a fitbit for mother's day....at this point, I have 417 steps toward the 10,000. I might not sleep tonight trying to hit the magic goal.
Good morning! Last night's game was postponed because the grounds crew forgot to leave the tarp on the field and as the rains came....the field was so wet that if anyone played on it, they would have ruined the turf. With that said, a night off for all.....
And so, Tink and I joined Betty, Scooby, and Big Sis and attended the Happy Together Tour at a local venue. The bands included Gary Lewis, Chuck Negron (Three Dog Night), a member from Grand Funk Railroad, Flo and Eddie from the Turtles, and Mitch Ryder. The singers were in great form as was the audience...OK, sort of. We were by far the youngest in the place. With good, functional hip joints, we were able to get out of our seats and dance. The rest of the audience....well, they kind of sat and enjoyed the concert. There were lots of canes and many trips to the bathroom by the guests, but on the whole, it was a nice group and the music was fun. It was a great way to spend a summer evening...music...family....venue....let's do it again (as the Beach Boys would sing). Honestly, it has been years since I last attended a concert.
No, it was not the Rolling Stones....Beatles.....Beyonce....it was Flo and Eddie...and guess what? We had an amazing time, although I am not sure about Tink since she texted all night. Yet, she says that she had fun....
Speaking of our Tink....this is weird, so let's ponder this event....
On the way to the concert, Tink was chatting away about everything....and I mean everything...so, sorry...sometimes, I tune out and figuratively change the radio station in my mind (sorry Tink)....but then, she said something that has me a bit freaked....
"Mom, you know my friend K at work? She has four children and an ex-husband....their names are....." I stop listening since the names are not important.....
"Well, they have this dog that had puppies....."
"Uh huh...." sigh
"There are ten of them....." sigh...welling up a bit
"They are maltese puppies...." a few tear balls fill the eyes...stop listening....now or I am going to blubber before the concert.
"Mom, they were born last Monday and one girl looks like Diva....." Get me a tissue, stat!
"Mom, don't cry...."
So, what she was saying was that her friend has a dog that had puppies that are malteses (like Diva) and were born on the day that she died (in my pathetic arms with me filling the room with enough tears to water the plants for a week)...what the heck?
Is this a sign? Am I reading too much into this story? Is it really true? Is this a coincidence or something that I need to look into? She was a dog, for crying out loud, yet, this is way over the top even for my crazed mind.
So, let's think.....the day Diva passed, these puppies were born....one looks like Diva. I can't...I won't.....it's too soon? Or is it? Am I supposed to follow up on this and get this Diva-look alike? If I don't, will I regret it when the Diva look alike is taken by another family? Now what? I am not ready....but if I pass up on this dog, am I passing up on fate? karma? kismet? Will I look at this dog and cry because she is not Diva?
I don't want another dog...yet I do....
I don't want another dog now.....yet I do....
I don't want my heart ripped out again....yet I do....
With that said, I need to get my head examined.....I have an acupuncture appointment in an hour, so I will have Needles stick a few extra pins in my head....perhaps my brain is scrambled.....now what?
Good morning. I was an early riser and hit a Pilates class. Sadly, I almost threw up my toast, which tells me not to eat before doing crunches. Another thing that I learned was to take Aleve before the class and not after. Gee, life is about learning these fun little lessons, isn't it? I would have been way embarrassed if I tossed my toast in front of these beasts of women. I have been the doughiest person in class until a new student walked in today. So now...I am the second doughiest and most queasy person of the bunch.
As we waited for the instructor, a woman built like an elite athlete was trying to sell us on this cleansing method of weight loss. It seems that a person drinks a few shakes, eats 900 calories per day, fasts four days a month. On the fasting days, you get to eat four of their cookies. The bonus to this treachery is that she feels great, lost 16 pounds, and has so much more energy. I listened patiently and with a comment that only a doughy person could make said: "It sounds like torture." Needless to say, I did not make a friend today. Sheesh....900 calories? Hey, I eat that on a road trip to see baseball games.
Actually, I have a proven weight loss method....eat all the Skittles that you want.....vomit....go to bed. That's it folks. No fasting...no weight loss cookies....no shakes.
On to my big kid...we have a better understanding of each other. I get it. He is nervous about this being his last chance. SO, he tightens up. This is tough to get over. After all, he has something to prove. Or does he?
Let's review. He has overcome a great deal of doubts from others and coaches. When he stopped by his high school two weeks ago, he met a pitcher on the team who seems to be a stud. According to the coach, "You're a bulldog; he's a race horse."
Really? A bull dog? Are we serious?
This kid did not come near breaking any of the bull dog's school and state records for strike outs, ERA, and so on. Yet, he's a dog and the other guy is a race horse. OK, I am understanding the tension about proving oneself to doubters.
Another fascinating fact that he discovered this week is that the Czar never played baseball past his junior year. It seems that he went to junior college then signed with a D1 team. He then proceeded to quit the team. Hmmmm...this is the guy who would not let my kid drop accounting because he would be a quitter. Dude! Look in the mirror.
Now what? Well, the big lefty has to figure out how to take the mound and not freeze. He has what it takes and just needs to set his head straight. He has the summer....let's see how it goes.
Good frosty morning! Yesterday was a blur as I drove home as fast as I could without surpassing the speed limit. On the way home from Florida, I was apparently going too fast (71 mph in a 65 zone) and have been sent a speeding ticket. There were no cops, just a camera that clocked me and sent the $40.00 fine to the house.
Yes, the car in the photo was mine.....yes, it was me in the driver's seat eating Skittles or something unhealthy......Yes, I will pay the fine...'cause I did the crime. Therefore, I was a good girl yesterday and only ticked off one wayward trucker who let me know that I was a menace on the road with his horn. Dude, really? You cut me off!
As the dust settles, we received an update from the big kid...
I hurt all over
My toe is torn up
My back and arm hurts....
Blah blah blah.
it is the usual pain from over exerting and having to lift the day before he threw 91 pitches. Mind you, he has not been on the mound for two weeks and was expected to perform....well...against a team that has been some of the top teams in the country. He only gave up 4 hits against a team that bats over .300. Impressive, yes?
Well sure....as the Czar has been taking credit for his turn around...which he never had, he just had an opportunity to throw and show the world what he has...which is talent. The Czar continues to take credit for it all...mental toughness....breathing....killer attitude.....the blueness of the sky....the green grass..... the Prius....Theory of relativity.....Cole Hamels return to the Phillies....and the chocolate chip cookie recipe...boxed wine.....this guy has quite an ego.
Here is the way to look at it...If he thinks that he is this amazing coach and should be credited for success while failures are the players, then so be it. The point is to prepare, get into the game, and perform. That's it. If he wants credit....sure...give it to him....knowing that.....
he has made a major faux pas by demanding that the big kid keeps a journal. Everything has been documented. Everything....I have the copies of the journal on my hard drive. It waits....silently....until the day when the contents are revealed. Then boom! Coach....will you be bloviating then or running?
Good morning....I am a bit queasy today for a number of reasons....none of them have to do with an unexpected pregnancy.....that would be quite miraculous.....
Speaking of miracles....we need one to get the big guy into a game....why?
Welllll....
As you know, he did not pitch in the weekend series against a very lame team. He sat on the bench and breathed.
After the game, he was furious because he had been demoted. Is he being singled out? No necessarily, but the coaches obviously do not like him...at all....
And so, it took a day to settle down and convince him that he had to speak to the coach, although when he did, he was deactivated. So, what do you have to lose? You have hit bottom. There is no where lower to go, only up. So, sit and chat. Or at least try to....
Last night, Tink and I headed for the stadium with the understanding that the team that they were playing was another sub par D3 team masquerading as a D1 team. Nice. So, I figured that perhaps I would see my guy on the mound.....wrong!
I caught him looking as grim as I have ever seen him. Flash to when we tried to enter the stadium, he never left tickets for us. When I was not able to convince the freshman behind the glass enclosure that I was indeed the big leftie's mom and am not trying to jump the fences to avoid paying, he refused to give me my complementary tickets. I looked at him and said: "Seriously?" Dude, my knuckleheaded son forgot to leave tickets. The stadium is empty except for a few philosophy and communications majors and a handful of parents. Give me my tickets. "No m'am, you are not on the list." Horrified, I dug into my pockets and found two crumpled five dollar bills....a miracle.....and paid my way into a game that I knew was going to be a blow out...and it was....did they put the leftie in?
Nope, in fact, I left during the 7th inning when I saw them warming the right fielder in the bullpen to pitch in the 8th. Yes, you have it right....he has dropped so low that even the right fielder enters games before he does....
Humiliating....
Anyway, as dad and I have have encouraged him during the last few weeks...go talk to the sports psychologist....he has dealt with this issue. I believe he is a great resource. And so, he went this morning....Guess what the shrink said? "You have to go to the coach. You are detached from the team."
Then the big guy asked him: "What does detached mean?"
The therapist said: "Aloof."
Oh....this is sort of true. Sadly, I raised him wrong. You see....he developed over the years to be respectful of authority figures, quiet, thoughtful, and introspective. Therefore, he has a smaller circle of friends and does not offer much about himself to others. Also, he is so driven, he does not care for what others outside of his circle thinks....therefore, he is misunderstood.
Now he has to go to the coaches and explain himself and become "attached." Sheesh. Why can't performance be the gauge of competence and talent? Well, BP mom, it is not. It is not what you know; it is who you know....it is political....Sigh...
And so, he had the plan to speak to the coaches today...until it happened.....the unexpected, yet expected....
LW missed a lift this morning and his locker was cleaned out. He was cut from the team. A senior. A starter. A scholarship player....a left handed pitcher....
As such, the plan has been altered. He is keeping his head down....not talking to coaches until the dust settles from LW's empty locker. Once the coast is clear, he will speak to them. But how does a person go to an authority figure and convince them that he is a "fun guy"? I dunno....I leave it up to him.
Perhaps he can take them to a movie....
Have a paint gun party....
Go streaking throughout the locker room.....
Snap a wet towel on someone's bottom.....
Sing a Frank Sinatra song while standing on a bar with his underwear over his head.....
How about pulling out the weighted balls? No, scratch them off the list. They got him in trouble in the first place.
And so.....this is where he stands...trying to figure out how to be more engaging with the coaches. Does this mean kissing up? Well.....what do you think?
And now, I am off to yoga class. Yesterday, I hit a yoga/Pilates class (need to tone the ole core muscles) and was the doughiest person in the class. To use a John Pinette phrase: "I say nay nay!" And so, I am going to tone and be more limber if it kills me. Last week, the Pilates instructor needed to hold my legs as I tried to do a full body crunch with a weighted ball over my head.
Not only was I pathetic, I was mortified since I was the only person in class who could not crunch with the legs extended and hands extended over my head. These are the moments when I think that the only thing that will make me feel better is a Snickers bar....yet...it was Snickers that made me doughy in the first place....
To make you laugh, here is a John Pinette video. He's a riot. Enjoy!
Dad said to me the other night: "You are only happy as your saddest child." Which in a way, he is right on target. A friend posted on FB, "When your child hurts, you hurt." Boy does this ring true
Why? Well, yesterday, the big leftie was left 'inactive' for the game. In other words, the other pitchers including guys who have not pitched since the fall were eligible to play in the conference game. On the other hand, the kid with one of the lowest ERAs on the team, sat on the bench and breathed.
What is going on? Well, he and I did not speak yesterday. Either he was too emotional, did not need to speak to his ma about his disappointment, or he did not want to burden me with his angst to call. I am not sure what the reason was, but I went with it and intentionally did not make contact, yet I watched half of the game with a sad heart.
As the game began, LW was back on the mound and pulled after 2.1 innings with 8 hits and 3 walks and 5 runs.....not great pitching....then they put the walk on freshmen in and this must have killed my boy as he sat and breathed....hard....deep...angrily....Mind you, they played a team that was worse than them in the conference, so the win was so so, rather than a big deal. Hey, play against a team that can hit and watch the bravado be flushed down the toilet. I even cussed yesterday when I heard the news....I instantly regretted it, because these guys should not affect me in any way. I am just sad for my son.
After a few hours, dad called and had an epiphany.....he recalled all the conversations that he had with his son about the coach and realized that the big leftie has been benched because of his confidence in the Pitching Doctor's methods. In other words, no coach wants to be told what is the best method for his players. They have fragile egos and want the players to acquiesce to their power. Therefore, having this passion for another coach's system placed my guy all the way down the ladder...until he....
grovels to get his position back. That's right. He has to go to the coach...although he did and was promptly benched and deactivated....(another story for later)....he has to tell the coach that he knows best and will never mention the PD again. If the coach wants him to throw 70, he will suck his breath in and toss the ball to the batter. He has to get back onto the mound, therefore, in my own poetic words....he has to kiss the coaches' butts.
This messes with the confidence that he has struggled to build since his surgery. He needs it to face the batters yet, the coach will only put him in if he is broken...not ruined....like the coach screamed at him one night.
And so, I wait to see if the kid is active for today's game. Yes, I took yesterday's benching hard because I knew what it did mentally to the big leftie. It is humiliating for him. He has the stuff. He was told by the coaches and a scout that he is 'dirty' and so...what the heck!?
OK, I will continue to watch and type. This will make a good movie of the week when we finish this story. Until then, I have to stop cussing.....work out my own frustration because it is not about me. It is about a little boy with a big dream and a huge boulder called the coach standing in front of him.
As St. Pio always said..."Pray, hope, and don't worry...." Praying and hoping are there...got to work on the worry part....
