The Bendocco Chronicles

2008-11-23T09:28:00.000-08:00

This video surfaced recently. Despite the 22 years that have gone by since it was taken, I think I remember this as the night I got a speeding ticket going south on 101 somewhere around San Mateo. It was fun being there when the brothers got together, this was taken when Mike, Freda, Theresa and Helen came out from North Dakota.

Bye George

2008-07-08T08:26:00.001-07:00

I've been had

2008-04-02T06:41:00.000-07:00

I'm coaching JV softball at Bishop O'Dowd this year. It's a good bunch of kids, I enjoy doing this, and believe me, it's for the love, not the money. Practice on Monday was difficult, kids were lacking energy and focus, and a couple kids were sick, so they didn't show up. We have a very tough opponent in Castro Valley scheduled for Thursday, so I'm trying hard to get them prepared.

OK, Monday not so good, let's see what happens Tuesday.

We have a zig-zag throwing drill that involves throwing, running, and synchronization. Typically I have to call out the order where someone runs, but I decided to sit back and watch. They did it about 95% correctly without me saying a thing, best they've ever done - and I told them how pleased I was. Between some other drills and Dale throwing batting practice, they took a couple of water breaks. I have about 3 or 4 brief encounters with Brenda, it goes something like this:

#1
Brenda: Coach I gotta tell you something.
Me: What's up?
Brenda: No I can't tell you now
Me: scratching my head

#2
Me: Hey Brenda, what's up?
Brenda: I can't tell you.
Me: What do you mean?
Brenda: She'll kill me if I say anything

#3
Me: Is it someone on the team?
Brenda: Yeah

#4
Me: OK, who is it
Brenda: (sheepishly) It's Adrianne
Me: Is it me? Is it personal?
Brenda: Yeah

Adrianne is a nice kid, but for her, becoming a great softball player is neither an ambition nor a priority. At least once per practice (or so it seems) I have to repeat something because she's having a side conversation with another kid about who knows what.

Brenda: She's leaving the team, but you can't let her parents know the real reason.
Me: OK, I'll talk to her

Ugh! She must think I hate her, she's miserable because I have to go out of my way to correct her, sometimes on technique, more often on behavior. Now I have to confront her and the latest drama. Is she going to lose it?

Batting practice continues, Adrianne is due up second. I try to clear the dugout, with limited success. My opportunity arrives to take on the situation.

Me: Adrianne, can I get a word with you?
Adrianne: Sure
Me: So what's on your mind?
Adrianne: Uh, nothing.
Me: I mean with the team. Are you cool with everything that's going on?
Adrianne: Uh, yeah, what do you mean?

Then ands there I realize I've been had.

Me: Is this Brenda's idea of an Apirl fool's joke?
Adrianne: Uh, yeah, I guess so.
Me: Dang, Adrianne! You had me cold! All you had to do was tremble or cry or something! you had me smoked on that one!

Anyway, it was fun and funny, I admire the way Brenda put it together. Even coach V was in on it. When we huddled at the end of practice he told me of the original plan, which was tha Adrianne was pregnant and had to leave the team.

ring in the new year

2008-01-07T07:03:00.000-08:00

my family spent a quiet new years eve at home, something we haven't done in years. Played Eric's Settlers of Catan board game after going our for a simple meal. I started 2008 off in healthy fashion by taking a bike ride down Redwood, across Monterey and through Butters canyon.
and hey, sold another shirt on redbubble! check it out!

BCO video snippet

2007-11-19T08:22:00.000-08:00

Dean Thomas and I got a drum and bass solo in the middle of I Wish... see it here!

garment print on demand

2007-11-15T15:42:00.000-08:00

This is a great new resource for printing t-shirts on demand. I've put a couple of brand new music designs up there. Check out my Bountee page.

Tournament ball '07

2007-10-14T06:30:00.000-07:00

I never did take the time to write about my tournament team from summer of '07. We had a really great group of kids, they showed a level of dedication and love of the game that impressed me deeply. My most sincere thanks to my assistants, Maria Morris and Lauren White, all the parents and families that were involved, and OGSL - all of whom supported this cause all the way. Here are among my recaps:

We got dusted in San Ramon, went 0-3-1, tying Alameda in a late inning rally that kept the weekend from being an entire bust. I knew this would be our most challenging tournament, my approach was to give the girls a jolt of reality and see how they responded...

Next up: Carmel, June 30, July 1.
wow.
this was a weekend I will long remember - I think we all will. I was hoping to have played 2 more games by the time it was over, but we walked away with a lot to be proud of. Contributions from every player up and down the roster, the support of families, great setting, great weather, a great Saturday night get-together - I wish all tournaments were as much fun as this one. The win over the Valley Magic was a game to remember all in its own. Ask me some time in person.
Saturday:
Oakland 9, Belmont 5; Oakland 3, Valley Magic 1; Oakland 12, San Carlos 9
Sunday:
Oakland 4, San Anselmo 2; Almaden 6, Oakland 4

San Jose - Wess Jones Memorial
this was a fun tournament, and the kids really gave it their all. We finished 2nd, lost the championship game by a single run. Ouch (but not THAT painful)
Natalie pitched all or parts of 6 games. Home runs by Callie, Lexi and Kera. Very proud of all our girls!
Official recaps

Benicia, August 10-11
Our season has come to a conclusion this weekend in Benicia, and I'm glad to tell you all that we fought our way once again to the championship game. But alas, bridesmaids again: we were soundly defeated by a very strong Redding team. It seems as though they had the philosophy "we're not driving 4 hours down highway 5 to not bring home the big hardware!"
We played pretty tough all weekend though, we consistently jumped out to leads in every game we played. Our batteries were outstanding, especially Natalie (she makes me so proud) and Erin (our team MVP, catcher and leadoff hitter), they worked 5 complete games together. Haley also pitched very well with Alexis catching. We played some great D on and off, and it seems we learned from a couple of key mistakes, then turned similar opportunities into big outs in the field.
In Sunday morning elimination play, we went back and forth with Santa Rosa, scrapping for runs after blowing a 5-2 lead. We're playing defense and up 8-6 in their last at bat. With two out and a runner on second, there's a single hit sharply to our left fielder. In the previous inning our left fielder Kera had tried to play a single back to the infield and thrown poorly, missing the cutoff and allowing 2 runs to score. Naturally, the third base coach remembers this in the next inning and sends his runner home, only to see her get HOSED!!! at the plate to end the game. A very strong throw to the plate and our catcher had her pegged by 15 feet. YEAH!! Winning on Sunday, baby, that's all that matters! (thank you Al Davis - hey, we're Oakland, right?)
3 weeks ago we lost a close one to Lamorinda in the championship game in South San Jose. Well, this weekend we exacted some sweet revenge. In Sunday's semifinal, we sent them home as we advanced with a 6-3 victory. Nursing a lead coming into the bottom of the final inning, Nat strikes out the leadoff batter, then gives up a hit and a run on an error. One out later, but with the momentum clearly on their side, Natalie goes to her change up to induce a game ending ground out by their slugging catcher. A 13-year old girl in an 18-year old's frame, she blasted a triple in the first inning. With Erin calling pitches brilliantly, Natalie kept her off balance the rest of the game, retiring her on a pop up and the aforementioned ground out to Alexis at short.
In the championship against Redding, we could only manage to spread out 5 hits, while the Rapids parlayed 5 hits and a number of errors into an 8-run second inning. One of our theories: Redding is a warm weather town, and as our girls looked to be withering in the 80+ degree sunshine, the (perceived) heat hindered the Rapids not at all.
So there you have it, my summer coaching girls softball. Our record: 12 wins, 9 losses, 2 ties. Combined with our league's 10 and under team coming away with a second in Half Moon Bay and a first in Rohnert Park, we're making great strides in travel ball. Gone for now are the 3 hour practices and the hauling of equipment, trading keys to Owen Jones and getting booted from Flood without permits. Time for me and the family to get a little R&R - aloha, peeps!

go VIPERS!!!

New projects, part 2

2007-10-14T06:22:00.000-07:00

With my partner Allan Miller, DSD is building a project management tool to use in the agile development style of building software.
We've seen a number of open source tools out there, and most provide many layers of functionality. As a result, they are so much more than what our small business clients are interested in (or capable of utilizing), that we started to build our own tool.
Keep an eye out for news regarding DSD's AgileMonitor (coming soon).

New projects on the horizon, part 1

2007-10-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

If you know a little about me, then you know that I'm involved in youth sports. I've got great memories of playing baseball when I was a kid, and part of those memories are of the coaches who led our teams. Not all were great, but I've always kept in mind the ones that were good instructors and genuine caring people.
Enter a new project, PlayerDev. Through my own coaching experience, and as league player development coordinator, I've gathered tons of drills, ideas for practice plans, insights as to what helps a player hone their skills. I'm bringing all this and more together in an online resource that will benefit players and coaches. It's a free web-based community where coaches can both contribute and gather information, supplemented by diagrams, pictures, video and multimedia.
The launch date will be in the upcoming months, but you can get a glimpse of the site at PlayerDev.com.

Vectorosity store now open!

2007-09-24T19:48:00.000-07:00

For my latest foray into marketing artwork, visit Vectorosity, my Printfection storefront. I was amazed at the great variety and high quality of the otems for sale there. But don't take my word, see for yourself!

Zazzle Store now open

2007-09-23T19:11:00.000-07:00

I'm also selling a variety of products featuring my artwork on Zazzle. They have a really great selection of apparel for men and women, be sure to check it out!
create & buy custom products at Zazzle

New online storefront

2007-09-23T06:30:00.000-07:00

...not exactly new, but refurbished and improved. I've made significant changes to my cafepress store, a lot of new original art, and a number of new products, including color t-shirts, note cards and mugs. I'll be adding new designs and products on an ongoing basis, so check it out for yourself!

Tying up loose ends

2006-12-31T06:18:00.000-08:00

So, here we sit at the edge of a year, about to slide into the start of a new one. Many memories of 2006, unfortunately I have neither the time nor energy to document all of them in a manner they deserve. However, among the notable include...

Work continues to go well. With my business partner Allan Miller, DSD Interactive has a number of interesting and challenging projects under its belt. We have office space near JL Square, some highly satisfied clients, and we're involved in a few business networking groups. The outlook is good.

I had my first experience as Little League head coach. With support and resources that includes Chris Kyriakou, how can you go wrong? We made it all the way to the championship game in an exciting playoff run. I'd been looking forward to this experience for a long time. Worth the wait.

I became assistant coach on the OGSL 12U tournament team. After modest success, and our fair share of taking lumps, we finally won a tournament (the last on our schedule) in 100 degree weather in Sunnyvale.

Meanwhile, the OGSL board consists of people I really like. I will coach 12U girls this year and assist Chris with the boys - a reversal of last year's situation.

My kids get straight A's in school. Never too early for flashcards. Ask Eric & Nat.

My kids are smart, but they can still be knuckleheads. Bike and scooter accident aftermath: Nat with a fractured wrist, Eric with 8 stitches above his eyebrow. Kaiser Oakland at midnight. Not a real happy place.

The Maguire family moved to Boise and I'm managing their house. Found what are turning out to be very pleasant and conscientious tenants.

I started swimming for exercise in September up at the pool. After a little instruction, I became more comfortable and efficient in the water.

I am no longer the bass player in the Bob Claire Orchestra. I have decided to take some time off from being in a band, and instead have started helping with the Montera Jazz Club, under the direction of Khalil Shaheed.

My mom has colon cancer. We found out right after Thanksgiving. It was scary first learning about it, but so far she's done incredibly well. It's early, but we have every reason to be optimistic.

What's on tap for 2007?
I need to sell the motorcycle
I may sell the van and start driving the Honda wagon so Mary Ann can get a new car
Plan for Mary Ann's 50th birthday
Start taking a closer look at high schools for Nat
Coach girls softball and perform player development tasks for the league
Assist with boys, with Chris' help
Grow DSD business
Cultivate more illustration business, maybe through selling online
Continue swimming, be in shape
Read and write more

happy new year!

Art for Sale at Imagekind.com

2006-12-04T20:30:00.000-08:00

Tournament ball 06 (chapter 1)

2006-06-12T11:18:00.000-07:00

Girls Softball tournament update
Morgan Hill June 10-11

I made a decision early this year not to take on the responsibility of being tournament coach like I had the previous 2 years, partly because I wanted Natalie to make it on her own merits, which I’m very happy to say, she did. The other part is the time commitment in organizing practices, hauling equipment around and dealing with the endless details of who to start, assigning positions to the girls and keeping the parents happy and involved. But when our team’s assistant informed the head coach that she couldn’t make it to Morgan Hill this past weekend, I was asked to assist as first base coach and hand over my scorekeeping duties to another parent. We have a great group of kids, and I’ve coached all but one of them in past tournament seasons, so it was easy to agree and I accepted the offer, even if it’s temporary.

Saturday we went 1 and 2, opened with a win, dropped a close one to an average team, then lost 7-3 to what were probably the eventual tournament champs (yet to confirm, we left while the championship game was being played Sunday). Play on Saturday determines how teams are seeded Sunday in championship play. We were seeded #3, based on WL record and run differential.

Sunday morning we battled back from a deficit against a San Jose team, #2 seed in their bracket. In our last at bat, Natalie was called in to pinch hit, specifically to drop down a bunt to try to push across the winning run from third. A gutsy call had her bunting with 2 strikes and she laid down a beauty, but the defense played it to stop the run at the plate. Our runner alertly played it smart and didn’t run into an out at home, Nat safe at first. We load the bases, but a ground ball produces a force out at home, two outs. Another ground ball to short, a play at the plate, but the catcher can’t handle the throw, Natalie crosses with the winning run. Bedlam. Shrieking 12 year olds mobbing the field. Group hug.

Our second game on Sunday was against Pleasanton, traditionally very strong. They were seeded #1 in their bracket and seemed kind of shell shocked that we had jumped out to a 4-0 advantage. They tie it in their last at bat, but we’re home team. A base hit and a steal put the winning run on second, but we’re having trouble getting her home. With two out, our batter delivers a crisp single to right and the winning run streaks around the bases. Bedlam. Shrieking 12 year olds mobbing the field. Group hug.

Third game Sunday against Almaden. We’re a little shaky to start things off, we had virtually no rest between the previous game and this one. Some sloppy defense results in our being down 6-1. Natalie relieves our starter and throws 3 solid no-hit, no-run innings, the shut down we needed. We’re scratching back and in our last at bat we trail 6-4. All of a sudden we’re feeling the momentum turning our way. We punch a couple of hits through, score a run and load the bases. But their defense was sharp, they got the third out of a close play at first to finish. Heads held high. Proud of our girls. Group hug.

First tournament, 3 wins, 3 losses. After fracturing her wrist and missing 6 weeks of the regular season, our little pitcher is looking pretty good. San Ramon next weekend, followed by an overnighter in Morro Bay.

Redwings in the postseason

2006-06-12T11:05:00.000-07:00

The days have turned warmer, the transition from spring to summer is in full tilt. That “last week of school” feeling is playing out all over, and as parents we’re trying to catch our breath from the flurry of activities that marks the end of one period before we jump into the next one.

Concluding an up and down season with my 9-10 year old boys team, the Redwings, we wrapped things up last week with 3 games in 5 days. My first year coaching boys. Technically, my first year as head coach, I helped last season when Chris Kyriacou was in charge. This year he was looking to be an assistant and I willingly agreed to trade places with him. Best possible experience – I’m confident in knowing how to structure practices, what skills need work, how to approach games, instilling discipline. Chris brings all that and more, explaining to the kids in language they understand, how to perform the myriad of techniques needed to be a complete ball player.

We finished the season with 5 wins and 6 losses, seeded 4th in a pool of 6 teams coming into the end-of-season tournament. Our first game is on a Wednesday afternoon against Steve Miller’s team, with whom we’ve scrimmaged and shared a practice facility all season.

Our kids jump out to an early lead and cling to it until the Eagles stage an uprising in the bottom of the 5th, taking a 2 run lead into our final at-bat. The momentum of the game had visibly shifted, they scored a couple of runs against our best pitcher. If I wanted any kid to pitch on Saturday, then he could throw no more than 40 pitches on Wednesday, a league rule instituted to save kids’ arms from injury. All the while, we have to put up with an annoying parent coaching first base, congratulating his kids on getting walks, not at all encouraging the weaker players to swing the bat. Hey, I guess if that’s your strategy and you can live with it, fine. But it flies in the face of everything we taught our kids all season: it’s a hitter’s game, get up there, take some hacks and make some noise with the bat, and put the ball in play.

In the top of the 6th we send up 2 batters and in no time at all there are 2 outs. At some point, one of my kids says to me with a silly smile on his face, “coach, I think we’re going to lose this game.” I barked right back at him, making sure everyone in the dugout could hear me, “don’t you EVER say that! You play this game to the end, and show that you want to win!” His smile turned sheepish, he apologized and found a spot on the bench. He’s a real good kid, and I like him a lot, but I’m sure I scared him at least a little bit with the severity of my tone. “Hey, I was just joking,” came his reply, and I smoothed it out by telling him not to joke like that, that we play the entire game, then we see who wins and loses.

Down to our last out and the last 3 kids, mired in the bottom of the order, I call time to talk to our batter, now walking up to the batters box. “I don’t like this,” he says to me in a quivering voice. He doesn’t come across as nervous kid, but he’s not real big, nor very athletic looking. Kids in the field are singing “We are the Champions” in anticipation of their post game celebration. I could tell he had very little confidence and was dreading becoming the last out of a game that we could lose, thereby ending our season. I tried to take a calming approach as I bent down to his level to offer some advice. “Take it easy,” I tell him, “we’re about to have a big rally and you’re gonna start us off. Have some fun and go get us a HIT!” Four or five pitches later, he’s fouling balls off, hanging tough with two strikes, protecting the plate until he sees one he can drive. His moment comes when he bloops one over the second baseman’s head and we have a runner on board. Now he kids on the bench have the rally caps going and the next two batters, they with the smallest strike zones, work the Eagle’s pitcher for a pair of walks, and before you know it, we have the bases loaded with the top of the order coming up. The other team is shaken. As far as I can recall without the scorebook, we got a couple of hits from our 1 and 2 batters and take a 2 run lead into the bottom half of the inning.

As happy as I am with our ability to rally, I’m equally nervous about holding onto the lead. Sure enough, having to limit my 2 best pitchers to 40 or less pitches each, I’m running low on options. There’s one out and the bases loaded, and I make a change. My next pitcher is capable of throwing fairly hard, but he tends to exhibit pronounced body language. When things aren’t going right, he’ll slump and drag his feet. When things go well, he’s the Eck-man, pumping his fist. A bases-loaded walk forces a run home, and now our lead is down to one. The kid gets a strike out and thinking it’s the third out, he sprints toward the dugout in jubilation, clenched fist and glove held high. I calmly instruct him to go back out and get one more out, sensing no embarrassment whatsoever, he returns to the hill to face another batter. In a typical pattern, he gets a head with 2 strikes, only to languish in a series of pitches that miss the strike zone. With a full count, the batter takes a shoulder-high pitch, one that I’ve seen go both ways all game long. The ump calls strike three and my boys joyfully scrum on the infield grass.

One of my favorite things is to gather for a players only meeting right after giving the other team a cheer and a high five. So stunned were the other team’s players, I saw tears still streaming down the cheeks of at least a few of them. Even sweeter to savor the moment. My boys didn’t quit and we told them how proud of them we were, not just for playing hard and winning, but for acting like gentlemen and real sports all season long.

We advanced to Saturday’s game and won again in come-from-behind fashion, this time against a team that displayed equally sincere sportsmanship. But on Sunday, we were a little low on pitching and couldn’t hold back a superior hitting team in the Mudcats, thereby losing in the championship game. Just getting there was a pleasant surprise, but the real reward of the season was the way we battled back in both our playoff wins.

A Slippery Spring, 2006

2006-04-03T04:52:00.000-07:00

These last 5 weeks brought the wettest weather of any March in the bay area in something like 75 years. It’s been depressing at times, but the biggest inconvenience for me is that numerous practices and games have been postponed. We’re very likely to face a period of hectic rescheduling, there will probably be availability concerns and a struggle to get fields.

On the positive side, though, it’s neat when a few hours of a single day can make you (at least temporarily) disregard the past or looming problems. Sunday was that kind of day, but there is a little bit of a back-story.

Two weeks ago on a Wednesday, I picked up my kids from school on what had been a minimum day for both of them. So the ritual is, they come home, have a snack, hang out and relax for a short period, then do their homework. On this day, we’re pretty much on schedule, I only had to do a little nagging to get them going on their school responsibilities. Meanwhile, I’m upstairs, pretty much engrossed in my work, I was midway through a project and hustling to make sure it would be delivered on time. I was pleased when Eric came to me and told me that he had finished his 4 pages of math and language arts, Natalie assured me that she was ahead of the game in a project due the next week. I spent a good deal of time that day on the phone as well, but was off the line when they called out that they were going outside and around the corner on scooter and bicycle.

“Put on your helmets!” I called out from upstairs.

“We don’t have to, we’re going to stay on the sidewalk,” came Natalie’s reply. I confess, I didn’t give it enough consideration, but when they didn’t hear me object, they took it as a sign of approval, and off they went.

Mary Ann got home minutes before 5pm, and no sooner was she in the door than the doorbell rang. A woman, about our age, stood on our porch with Eric, blood staining his shirt and smeared across his face, screaming out in pain. She explained how she came across the kids on the ground on her street, with bike and scooter sprawled out on the side of the road. She drove him home as Natalie struggled with the bent handlebars of her mountain bike, dragging the razor scooter along behind her.

The collision, as far as anyone can tell, took place when Eric was zig-zagging as his sister was trying to pass. He went down, his forehead somehow struck the pavement, and Nat put her arm out to break her fall from the bike. It wasn’t until that evening when he was finally calmed down that I took him to Kaiser for stitches, we ended up staying there until almost midnight. Nat had ice on her wrist the entire afternoon, but it wasn’t until the next morning that we decided to take her in for an examination. Oblique fracture of the right radius. When she fell, she landed on her right hand, the pressure caused the fracture near the top of the wrist. Full arm cast for 3 weeks, to be replaced by a wrist cast for another 3.

Now it’s not the only thing hat she misses out on, but softball season had just started. She pitched very well in her first two games, even fairly dominant in the opener. As it stands right now, she may be back before the end of the season, but it’s questionable what her rehab schedule turns out to be. We’ll deal with that when the time comes.

Eric’s stitches came out in a week, his scar will probably blend right into his eyebrow, and the road rash that covered his right cheek is all cleared up.

The weekend came along, rain cancelled Nat’s 9am game and the weather did not look promising for Eric’s 10am game. But, being coach, I have the responsibility to help the other coach and the umpire determine whether we should proceed or not.

It gets stressful when parents are calling at the last minute, with questions like “it’s pretty wet out, should we come anyway?” That combined with a couple of key kids either out sick or occupied with other activities, I don’t know that I would have enough to field a team. I told Eric he didn’t have to play because of his stitches, but when it became apparent that we needed him, he jumped right in without much hesitation, he even pitched a couple innings. But it was a painful day, we had trouble getting the ball over the plate and numerous walks led to long innings where the kids in the field saw little if any action, their boredom proved to be very trying. Eric got a hit and scored our only run, but that was only one of the bright spots in a 13-1 loss.

The other bright spot was with one of the 10-year olds, who, after initially shying away from pitching in the first weeks of practice, took the mound that day and threw absolute gas.

I think I do a pretty good job of not playing favorites with the kids on my team, but this kid reminds me a little bit of myself in my youth. Like him, I was disappointed when I tried out for the division a lot of my classmates were in and didn’t make it. There was speculation that this kid would rather sit out the season than play in the lower division. He apparently had his heart set on playing triple-A this year, but wasn’t selected, leaving him open to the double-A draft. Each of the double-A teams was required to select four 10-year olds, and without really remembering him from the tryouts, I grabbed him. My thinking was that I would pick my 10s midway through the draft, other coaches took their 10s later because they had their eyes on 8s and 9s that they knew, or kids that went to the same school as their own kids - who knows.

What I could relate to, and this happened to me as a kid and to my own daughter just last year, was that two distinct options were available. Kids can play up and enjoy the prestige of playing in a higher league, they even have the opportunity to develop a stronger game as a result of better competition and a higher level of play. On the other hand, they can play in a slightly lower division and be impact players, the kind of player they’d have little chance of being in the upper division. That kind of impact was felt in yesterday’s game, I have a 10 year old pitcher who is near untouchable, but that’s not the important part for me. I think this kid is genuinely having fun, and he has a chance to be looked upon as one of the leaders of the team.

When it was all said and done, we came out ahead, 3-0. The rain slowed down just enough to allow our game to be played, after we finished it began to pour again, but I didn’t seem to mind any more. At least for the rest of the day.

Jake. Jake-mo. Jake-amo-J.

2005-12-11T08:24:00.000-08:00

2005 has been a year to remember. A good year all in all, but one that has marked a number of transitions. Unfortunate as it is, we have experienced yet another passing. I look over some of the posts I’ve made here and almost think of renaming this RL’s Grieving Blog (jokingly), but that only tells part of the story.

My first pet, I mean my own first pet, the one for whom I was solely responsible, was my golden retriever Lester. That was the animal that really touched peoples’ lives, my own and many others. He didn’t exactly touch everyone in the right way, but that’s another story.

Lester was mellowing in his years, it was 1990 and he was about six at the time. Mary Ann and I had lived together for about a year, I was so blinded by love that I agreed to let her bring a long one of the cats from Snowball’s litter to live with us. All the kittens at Mary Ann’s parents’ home had been snatched up or given away, leaving the last two, Max and Callie. We ended up with Callie, I was OK with one but not both. Callie had an annoying habit of kneading. She would jump up on your lap and sit quietly for about a minute. As soon as the warmth transferred comfortably from her own body to your lap or stomach, she’d start to gently knead her paws into you. It was kind of cool, almost a sign that she felt comfortable enough to do this. But gradually, paw stroke by paw stroke, the claws emerged from beneath the fur and you were soon her personal scratching post. Shortly thereafter, Callie would fly from my lap, often propelled by yours truly. I believe that cats do this instinctively to stimulate milk from their mother’s nipples. Was this a sign that Callie didn’t breast feed enough as a kitten?

Mary Ann had always maintained that you can’t just have one cat (a claim I later found to be completely baseless), and had worked on me from the beginning to take in a companion, perhaps to ease Callie’s neurosis. Up came a situation where a negotiation was called for, and to this day I can’t imagine what I stood to gain from it. She agreed to something from which I might have benefited, my concession to her was that we could get a kitten from the pound to keep Callie company. Even though I have no idea what she agreed to, I’m quite sure I never received it. But soon enough, there I was, looking into the cage that held the one cat with the tiniest meow. Out of all the cats we saw, this tabby was clearly the cutest. I was soon won over, even though he wouldn’t have been my own first choice. I had my eye on this big fat gray striped male with green eyes. I wanted a big lazy cat that sat like a lump in the corner, maybe taking the occasional swipe at Callie.

It was October, and while his orange markings bore a resemblance to the color of pumpkins, he became Jake, derivative of jack o’lantern.

Jake and Callie ruled the roost on Harrington Avenue, came with us and seemingly adjusted well when we moved to Rhoda. One of my favorite memories of Jake is from the lawn in the back yard. Lester was about eight years old and Jake was two, but a very naïve and protected two. The back yard was the dog’s domain, and God help the animal that should stray in there. One of Lester’s things (not really a trick) was to hold up a treat and make him refrain from eating it until you gave him the OK. It was a similar situation when Mary Ann brought Jake out to say hello one day, and fortunately, the image was captured on film. (I’ll post it as soon as I find it.) Jake, cautious, yet curious about this hulking animal sitting on the grass opposite him, sniffing the air in front of Lester’s nose. Lester, sitting patiently, drooling as though being tempted with a Milkbone, as if waiting for me to give him the go ahead to lunge.

Callie disappeared right when we were about to move into our current residence in ’95, I had Lester put down within about a year. His size and his age had left his mobility severely limited, this wasn’t the way I wanted to remember him. Jake became the one family pet, the survivor of all these years.

Jake now rests quietly in a corner of the yard. The kids helped me bury him, we poured a concrete slab yesterday and embedded decorative rock in the surface, spelling out his name.

Grip and Rip

2005-12-11T07:32:00.000-08:00

I golf. Yeah, about once every five years I golf. I won’t go so far as to say I’m a golfer, that would be wrong. I would probably have to own golf clubs and shoes in order to say that I’m a golfer. Many years ago I actually did own clubs, the shoes might be somewhere in the basement, but they’re long out of style with their metal spikes. The new spikes are these round plastic discs, they don’t seem as long but they look to provide more stabilizing contact points with the ground. Losing my footing on my most recent round wasn’t the problem, losing feeling in my toes was.

My brother, on the other hand, is a golfer. This is good, because if I ever have opportunity to play, I can borrow his clubs, which also means that he and I can’t play together. He also has feet roughly the same size as mine, so shoes are part of the deal when he has very generously set me up like he did last week. These shoes, however, a gift from his father-in-law, we're not of the ideal proportions. They're close, so who am I to be the ingrate?

The band was hired to play a private party at the Wente winery in Livermore, a client holiday party put on by D.B. Makely, an investment product wholesaler. D.B. lives the life. He’s a member at Wente, he has a one year old house, with six or seven bedrooms, just minutes from the winery and golf course, where he lives with his lovely and charming wife, Lisa. His generosity and graciousness are clear indicators of his personal success. He’s a funny guy and a pretty decent golfer. (Now he’s a golfer!)

Our trumpeter Jeff is a pretty decent golfer, I think for him it’s part of the whole financial planning and investments career. To me, that looks to be a world largely made up by golfers.

I like to hit balls, I enjoy the design of good golf courses and the meticulous care that the finer ones receive. I like to track the flight of a well-struck tee shot, or follow the high arc of a wedge from 100 yards out. The smooth, even greens, the manicured fairways and sand traps. Chasing shots down, searching for the OB ball, watching them skip off cart paths, that’s not so fun.

Here’s my idea of a good time on the golf course. It would have to happen at a private club, on a moderately warm spring morning. The group would make most sense as a twosome, any more and it would not only bog down, but it might get dangerous. We could start somewhere on the back nine, so as not to hold up any legitimate golfers, who are bound to be playing much faster than my group. Bringing along about two dozen balls each, we’d hit three or four tee shots each (hit till you’re happy), then drop and hit another four from the vicinity of your best lie. That could continue until you got to the green, then you could play maybe one or two, just so putts aren’t bouncing off each other.

This could start on about the 12th or 13th hole, play for a couple of hours, then have lunch. It’s not so much a round of golf as it is a moving driving range. Score? Why?

Crossing the finish line

2005-11-29T03:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I finished my first NaNoWriMo. The rules require completing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, but to say that I finished isn't 100% accurate. Apparently November is for writing and December is for editing.

In a rush to get to 50K, there were inconsistent character details, less than perfect grammar and a whole lot of run-on sentences. Last night I started reading it it back, fixing parts that needed adjustment, things I could only see from the perspective of the end of the story.

In a nutshell: Through a closed bedroom door, a young girl has the courage and tenacity to explore the mysteries of her late grandfather's past.

I've combed through it a little, got it to a state that is more readable, and dropped it into a layout. Here's a PDF. Enjoy

A Novel Experience

2005-11-08T09:40:00.000-08:00

Last year I heard about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and the unique experience of writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. This year I'm giving it a whirl, my story falls into the young adult category and is based loosely on an experience of my friend Darlene, who sings with the Bob Claire Orchestra.

I became fascinated with a story she related to me one night at rehearsal. Probably a year and a half ago I started scratching out an outline after talking through my idea with my daughter while we went on a neighborhood walk one evening.

I'd heard Ann Arbor, a DJ on KFJC, talk about NanoWriMo, she had some guests on her Wednesday morning show that recanted their experience. I briefly thought about my story, but never found myself with the time or inclination to commit to actually doing it.

Recently, I have done some work with a new company on a multimedia project. Our experience together was smooth and harmonious, and the client was thrilled with the work we produced. To celebrate the completion of the job, we all met for lunch, which was the first time I met face to face with these new partners. Yet through working so closely together, we'd developed a friendship and had a really nice time. It was over lunch that I realized that we all seemed to have a story we were harboring, a woman on the client's side started talking up nanowrimo. That turned out to be the nudge I needed, and now here I am.

Here's a look at my novel in progress, and here's a look at NaNoWriMo.

Holy Toledo

2005-10-18T16:31:00.000-07:00

Another homage to someone who has passed away.

When I was a kid, I grew up listening to Bill King broadcasting Raider and Warrior games. He had a distinct gift in his use of language that endeared him to me and thousands of sports fans across Northern California and beyond. Not just knowledgeable in sports, he's always come across as more of a renaissance man - well traveled, highly appreciative of art and literature, a jazz fan - in short somewhat ecclectic.

And oddly enough, his passing was very much like my dad's in July. Both men from the midwest, relocating on the west coast after serving in WWII, apparently making it through a scheduled surgery, only to succumb in recovery.

Good bye Bill, it was great having you along all this time.

Homestretch

2005-09-17T20:25:00.000-07:00

I read that James Doohan, Mr. Scott of Starship Enterprise fame, recently joined Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry’s final resting place – the final frontier if you will – when his ashes were transported via rocket into space. I’ve never given much thought about my own resting place, be it in a box buried in the ground or thrown to the winds of the cosmos, but my family did have to give the matter some consideration when our dad passed away in July. A few ideas were tossed around right after his death, but it took a short while to physically receive the package that contains his ashes. There are several ideas that still hang on among the family, but our first real opportunity to carry out a plan transpired yesterday, Friday the 16th of September, 2005.

Those that knew my father well were aware of his main hobby and the source of much of his satisfaction in the world of sports – thoroughbred horse racing. Now it just so happens that his next-door neighbor of the past several years has been horse trainer of note Greg Gilchrist. Greg, his delightful wife Patty and my parents became friends because of their mutually amiable nature, the fact that they’re just plain old good folks, and their common interest in the ponies. Not so much my mom, but she’s been in the know about the who’s who of racing through my dad.

I’m not sure if my brother Mark gets the credit for thinking it up, but I recall him mentioning that one appropriate place to have my dad’s ashes scattered would be on the home stretch at Golden Gate Fields, a venue with which he was intimately familiar. I don’t know a lot about when he first became so interested in horse racing, but some of my own richest memories came from times when we accompanied him to the track, and how he would alternately study races and a horse’s history, consult with his buddies on why a pick was good or not, and act as a kind of apostle of the Daily Racing Form – also known as the “bible.”

A golden opportunity arose one week ago tonight. My mom, now living in the house of my childhood all alone, was invited to dinner with her neighbors, the Gilchrists among them. My mom shared with Greg our idea of having the ashes disbursed at the track, and Greg graciously agreed to arrange an event that will live forever in my memory.
As I write this, the thoroughbred Lost in the Fog is the probably hottest race horse in the U.S. He’s a 3 year old, undefeated in 8 major races, and set to run in the Breeders Cup next month. Greg is the horse’s trainer, owned by an absolute gentleman by the name of Harry Aleo.

Apparently, when he works out there’s usually some kind of media circus that shows up, workouts are filmed, interviews with Greg and Harry are commonplace. This particular week, Greg had been somewhat secretive, not announcing the workout until Thursday evening, when he’d apparently been planning on it all week.
So arrangements are made to have Russell Baze, 1999 inductee to the Thoroughbred Racing Hall of Fame (and second only to the legendary Lafit Pincay in career wins) in the saddle for this session, and to have Russell spread a small container of ashes as he crossed the finish line at Golden Gate Fields.

Friday morning comes along cold and gray, a steady breeze sending cool air and a blanket of fog through the Golden Gate, directly in line with the track at the foot of Gilman Street. Jeanne and Drake were right behind me as I pulled into the stable parking lot, I entered the stables and with the help of the gate attendant I located Greg who introduced me to Russell. We soon encountered Mark, Suzanne and Elizabeth parking their cars when my mom showed up with Patty and we were all set to witness the event. Within a half hour we found ourselves in the box seat section of an empty grandstand, perched directly across from the red and white pole that is the finish line, below us the finely manicured winners circle. In fact, the infield is just as meticulously manicured, the preparations for the upcoming meet are well underway.

Thoroughbred horses are magnificent animals. I haven’t had too much opportunity to spend time around horses, we occasionally go riding at Bonnie and Jeff’s ranch in Yuba City, where they board about a dozen at a time, more when a polo match is taking place in their arena. There the horses are fit and healthy, but just common horses. The animals at a track on par with GGF – even the ponies the trainers keep for work out assistants – are powerful and athletic. They’re all high strung, but some horses are trotting out to the track with a herky-jerky nervousness, their mounts doing all they can to keep the animal in control until it’s time to do what they were bred for – run with all out abandon on the soft dirt of an oval course. But with Lost in the Fog there’s a difference, he’s got a sort of sophisticated and confident presence on the track, a little bit like a veteran slugger calmly making his way from dugout to on deck circle. Not a tall horse, but sturdy and somewhat thickly muscled.

Russell is riding him from the stable gate on the southern end of the oval with a training assistant riding alongside. They’re part of a small procession of horses heading out for a morning workout, deliberately make their way heading against the grain on the home stretch. They turn around before the end of this straight segment of track and embark on a warm up trot as if they’re heading home toward the finish line. Russell reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a plastic medicine container, deftly flips the lid open with his thumb and empties its contents in a short white puff of dust.

It’s pulled off perfectly, we’re both content and proud to have witnessed this, but there’s still the matter of the workout. Now the horse continues a moderate trot around the first turn and ramps up to a gallop and full sprint around the back stretch. To see this orchestration of man and beast is awe inspiring. To a casual observer, one might think that a horse race is littlle more than a dozen horses breaking free, running full tilt to the finish, but a closer look reveals much, much more. The combination of grace and power was a beauty to behold, both Russell’s and Lost in the Fog’s head are almost still as the horse glidingly streaked alongside the same ground where my dad had just been honored.

Summer Vacation 2006

2005-08-26T07:18:00.000-07:00

Here’s the synopsis, some day I’ll go back into my notes and transcribe to this blog, but for now…

Day 1
Highway 92 to Half Moon Bay, south on 1 to Santa Cruz. Play Frisbee on the beach with Eric, Nat plays in the sand and Mary Ann naps. Beach boardwalk, all the cool rides – Eric is now fearless when it comes to roller coasters and his enthusiasm is unbridled. We run into the Gotch family and hang for about our last hour there. Spend the night in Seaside with Will.

Day 2
Breakfast, some shopping, visit Will’s office and take mom with us to lunch. We’re on the road around 2pm and heading south on 101. Traffic in Santa Barbara gets us off the freeway and onto the beach for an hour or so. On the road again, we land in Claremont around 10:45.

Day 3
Leisurely start, early afternoon we’re on our way to the San Dimas water slides where we soak up sun and stand in line with the pierced and tattooed masses. Back to Claremont, Marjie has made us a salmon feast for dinner.

Day 4
Rohan is accompanying us to San Onofre, Nancy decides it’s too cold out for Citlali, who is recovering from a cold. Surfing lessons for the kids, Ro and I take a couple shots at it as well. Drive back up to LACMA, the girls have tickets for the King Tut exhibit. We’re back in Claremont by 11pm.

Day 5
Early start, we meet up with Zan and Julia at Disney, spend the next 14 hours on rides, watching parades, and taking in fireworks. Back at our Claremont home away from home by about 11pm.

Day 6
I fly home with the kids at 11:30, Mary Ann drives back to the bay area with Marjie. Subbie is in San Jose on business, he and Marjie will return together.

There it is for now, all in all a great trip, made enjoyable, memorable and affordable through the generosity of our hosts!

A brief visit so far

2005-08-17T22:26:00.000-07:00

The A's were alone in first place for exactly one day. Glad I was there.

Steal of Home

2005-08-13T08:52:00.000-07:00

I was generously given tickets to Thursday’s A’s game, it happened to be the rubber game in an important series with the Angels. Originally I was getting 2 tickets and taking one of the kids with me, but it soon turned into an opportunity to take both kids, and before you knew it, there was the prospect of all 4 of us, Mary Ann included, landing some fat seats right behind the Angels dugout. I made sure my week’s work commitments were fulfilled as Thursday approached, this was going to be a true day off. But, ‘tis the nature of being self-employed, something always seems to come up at the last minute, and I found myself cranking out revisions to a project early Thursday morning.

11:15 rolls around, peanuts in hand, kids in tow, I’m off to pick up the tickets from Claire’s house. I pick up 3, the plan at this point is for Mary Ann to connect separately with Claire and meet us at the game. It’s the perfect day for baseball: sunny and about 75 degrees, the crowd is growing as we are shown our seats, just out of spitting distance from where Mike Sciosia and Bud Black stand making small talk with well wishers wearing field passes.

The satisfaction given by unsalted peanuts wears out well before the first pitch, and the kids are getting hungry as the game gets underway. “We’ll eat when mom gets here,” I offer.
Eric comes back with, “but what if she doesn’t get here?”
“Don’t worry, she’ll get here." Next comes my attempt to distract him from a growling stomach. "See the guy with the real dirty helmet?” I ask. “Vladimir Gurrero. Very dangerous hitter. After he bats we can go get something to drink.” The Angels are retired 1-2-3 in the top of the first, the A’s go quietly in their half, even as Jason Kendall leads off by getting hit.
Bottom of two, Guerrero, leading off absolutely mashes Joe Blanton’s third pitch and the Angels are up 1-0. OK, I explain, he’s not going to do quite as much damage with nobody on base this early in the game. As he’s rounding third, we’re already on our way up to the concession stands for a soda. Blanton puts a couple runners on, but gets out of the jam, and the game goes on.

A few phone calls later, we learn that Mary Ann won’t be making it after all, she and Claire had trouble connecting, and in the interest of not letting a ticket go to waste, Claire gives it to her neighbor Gustavo, a true A’s fan from way back. As soon as I find this out, I take the kids up for food. Mmmm, coliseum chicken and fries. $20 later, we're back in our seats.

Our seats are in section 114, row 16, right on the aisle. Great vantage point, and a pretty good spot for foul balls. But it seems that there are a lot of lefties batting today, most balls that have a chance of making it into the stands are either hit into the screen or sprayed over to the third base side. There was one towering popup off the bat of Dan Johnson that came to our section, unfortunately, the lady who tried to catch it was escorted by coliseum staff to first aid to treat a pretty serious bruise with ice. It’s exciting, and a little bit scary for the kids, when a ball like that just seems to hang in the air when you think it has a chance of coming down near you. I had just enough time to put on Natalie’s glove, which was sitting on the ground. I doubt if I’d have enough time had it been Eric’s, given his smaller hand. Nevertheless, it came down about 6 rows in front of us and about a dozen seats to the right, someone else’s souvenir this time. I would hope that the lady who sacrificed her thumb would be the one to go home with the ball, but my attention was directed to the on-field action.

The game goes on, and the A’s find themselves down 4-0 in the bottom of the seventh inning. Each time I listened to Bill King and the A’s broadcasters this week, they emphasized how difficult it was to come back against the Angels bullpen when they held a lead after 6 innings. Brendan Donnelly has a violent and explosive delivery, regularly hitting the mid 90’s on the radar. Jay Payton was in far less awe than I was, he sent Donnelly’s first pitch over the left center field fence for a solo shot. Enthusiasm and hope begins to swell among the 35,000 at the ballpark. The untouchable Angels bullpen had been touched up for a loss last night, why not today as well? Mark Ellis promptly hits a soft liner to left, and Kendall reaches base right after him. With 2 out, Eric Chavez sends the ball arcing majestically into the right field bleachers and suddenly we have a tie game. The stadium is delirious, as soon as Chavez connects, the volume shifts from rumble to roar while the ball is still traveling over the infield dirt. I can’t really say this because the tickets were given to me, but right there, my money’s worth.

Justin Duchscherer looks crafty way beyond his 26 years, he mixes speeds, comes with a nasty curve ball and generally fools the Angel hitters and we’re tied coming into the bottom of the ninth.

I’ve been to a lot of games at this stadium. In fact, I got a little misty prior to the game when the jumbo screen showed highlights of the A’s dynasty days of the early 70s, an era afforded to me by the generosity of my dad, who made it possible for all of us to attend world series games. But coming back and winning in the bottom of the ninth on a freak play was about the last thing anyone expected. Our seats provided a clear sight line between home and third base, we seemed to have been situated perfectly to witness Jason Kendall alertly sprinting down the line as Francisco Rodriguez muffed the return throw from the catcher. Now the crowd is really going crazy, players are mobbing Kendall on the field and for the first time all year, the A’s are in first place.

A day I hope my kids remember a long time from now.

Family Night

2005-07-22T08:10:00.000-07:00

My sisters were up from LA for my dad's funeral a week ago, now they're on their way back down south. For a few occasions, the entire family was on hand. I feel very fortunate that my family is so close knit and close by - 4 of us live within a couple freeway exits of each other.

When we were much younger, dad used to take us to A's games on family night when tickets were half price. I soon discovered family night on my own, a night where the money saved on admission was spent primarily on beer, it made for some memorable times.

Wednesday night was the eve of my wife Mary Ann's birthday, and Suzanne suggested celebrating it at the ballpark, since everyone was in town. Only it wasn't the Oakland Coliseum this time, no, it was Laber Field (Owen Jones), and it truly was Laber Field on this particular evening. My entire family (with the exception of my own kids!) was on hand for a night of playoff softball. First some background: a couple years back, Mariano asked if I'd be interested in playing on his men's league team, comprised historically of guys whose daughters played fast pitch softball in the local league (originally Bobbysox, which then became OGSL). I couldn't say no, the games were played at my neighborhood park, the last time I'd played in a league there was on a co-rec team in the summer of 2001. In my first game with the Dads Club, we beat the other team by about 15 runs and I'm thinking, it sure feels good to play again.

Now our team, the Dads Club, has had our share of ups and downs, but regardless of outcomes, this is a group of guys that just plain enjoys playing ball. We've crushed teams as many times as we've been crushed. We've scratched out wins, we've given up winning runs at the end when we were certain that we'd come out on top. A few faces are bound to change from season to season, but the core (or what I recognize as the core over the last couple years) remains loyal.

By virtue of finishing the season in second place, we played the third seed team in the playoffs in a 6:45 start. The Base Hitters are a talented group, they hammered us about a month ago down at Allendale park, we returned the favor just about a week ago. We figured that they were out for blood this time, they were taking infield and BP 45 minutes before we started. But not all their team showed on time, we had all ours at the field by 6:30, they had a couple straggling in close to 7pm - in light of playoffs, the umpires were pretty lenient with the forfeit rule.

So with my mom, sisters and nephew in the stands, nieces hanging out and watching the young ones, my brother playing first base and nephew in right field, there was a real nice feeling that settled in over the park as the sun slowly set beyond the trees on the third base side, and beyond that, over the bay on a beautiful summer evening. In my first at bat I hit a ball over the left field fence to put us ahead 2-0. I usually don't consciously try hitting home runs, I just try to hit the ball hard and if it goes, it goes. It wasn't until after I made it back to the dugout that I started thinking about my dad and how he used to come see Mark and I play Little League, then even as adults if the field was convenient. I suppose the standard thing for big leaguers is to cross home plate and point to the sky in tribute to a loved one, but I missed my chance and would have felt funny anyway - after all, this is just Oakland rec league softball. Miserable hack night as I fondly call it.

The lead changes hands, we're back on top and close them out in their final at bat, game over. So we sit around, eat some Church's chicken (Suzanne had arranged food for the family) and patiently wait our turn to see who we play in the championship game at 9:15. CC Company jumps out to a big lead, their third baseman yanks a huge homer about half way up the hill in right field, and the tone is set. The Dogs scratched out some runs and made it somewhat respectable, but still lost by about 10. I could sense that a couple of our guys were getting nervous, but on this night I was relaxed and ready to simply go out there and play - let it be a game. Earlier in the week I'd told Mariano that I probably wouldn't play, I'd developed some swelling in my right knee and the ice, rest and ibuprofen hadn't really helped yet. Wednesday afternoon I called him again and told him I'd be good to go, but maybe he should be available by phone just in case we needed him to run up there.

By now the Laber family is gone, except for Mark, Nils and myself. Jennifer is there with Piper and Gigi, Taylor Warman is hanging tough and that's all we have watching from our side, a far cry from the number we had attending the early game. CC puts a couple balls over the fence and in the second inning they're up 10-1. We gave them too many outs in the first couple innings, it should have been closer, but they'd still have been up by about 5.

The sign of a great team - no, let me rephrase that - the sign of a team on a great night is that they refuse to quit. We had a few shut down innings, played improved defense (Nils made an incredible shoe top catch in right) and were aided by the fact that CC had to play 2 in a row, while we earned a rest during the middle game. Whatever the case, we hung in there, scratched out a couple here and there and found ourselves within striking distance in our last at bat with the top of the order coming up.

When your leadoff batter delivers, you are buoyed with confidence. Blaze started us off with a single and Dan (years ago shunned by the CC team and his fellow parishioners) followed with a hit of his own. Gary looped one into short right along the line to score a run and there are runners on for Mike, our legitimate power threat. I'm thinking, this is time for Mikey to hit one out. But instead he singles and drive in another, comes around to score the tying run on Mitch's single. Now it's up to Nils to keep things alive, but perhaps in anxiety, he hits a grounder to the left side of the infield, forcing Mitch at second for the first out.

My turn. I wanted nothing more than to hit one out right then and there. Their pitcher likes to work fast and I'm sure he'd quick-pitch me if I wasn't paying attention, hoping to sneak a strike past me. My ritual is to fill in the holes in the batters box with one foot out, then keep an eye on him until I'm ready to step in. Down the lines at Jones are the deepest parts of the park, I'm thinking that the ball has lost a little bounce and my best shot is center field. His very first pitch was right where I'd been looking for it, but instead of lofting it (which probably would have resulted in a fly out) I hammered a slicing line drive to right that took the right fielder on an unexpected visit to the corner - they were playing me to pull, my last time up I froze the left fielder for a double to the fence. As I'm rounding first, I see the blur that is Nils out of the corner of my eye, streaking for home, easily beating the throw.

Ball game.

We hung at the park for a short while, all the guys from CC were in their cars in scant minutes. Mariano was there to stake claim to the trophy, there was much joy among those who lingered around the first base bleachers. Mark, Nils, Mitch, Dan and Gary came by the house ever so briefly, as Mark sat in the driveway waiting to cart Nils off, we agreed, this one's for pops.

So Long, Pops

2005-07-10T07:03:00.000-07:00

Back in April, my dad came to see one of Natalie’s games. Although I mismanaged it and we lost, he had a chance to see her pitch, both in warm-ups in the bullpen and in the game where she mowed down just about every batter she faced. That day he had trouble getting around, exacerbated somewhat by the fact that parking at the Piedmont field is pretty far from where the games are played. I didn’t have a good idea about his discomfort that day until he hobbled down to the bullpen on the right field side and witnessed Nat’s fastball and change up combination.

We had a few opportunities to see and hang out with him, but it was always in the context of a family gathering, most of that time would be spent sitting around a dinner table. I guess I equated his immobility with simple stiffness. It wasn’t until late June that I became aware of the circulatory condition in his leg.

Thursday was another jam packed day. Work, getting the house ready for the new tenant, getting the van fixed, practice, a hospital visit, and on top of that an invitation to see Robben Ford at Yoshi’s. Our hospital visit went very well. Eric had spent the day with a buddy of his, he wouldn’t be allowed due to his age, nor would any of us have been comfortable having him along in the ICU at Eden Hospital. Mary Ann, Natalie and I met my mom there, my dad was in bed connected to a number of apparatuses. He seemed weak, but content, he smiled often, as we all did. Not once did it occur to me that this was the last time I’d speak to him.

I’m home and in bed by midnight. I’d told myself earlier in the evening that this was the night I’d break my little cycle of insomnia and finally get a good night’s sleep. And as good as the show was, I remember feeling just a tad sleepy as we sat tossing back a couple beers and a few sushi appetizers.

I’ve lost relatives to a number of afflictions, most related to old age. Many friends have lost parents as we’ve all grown older, I’ve wondered at various times what it would be like when the time came for an immediate family member, even my own time.

I’d settled in to sleep after briefly telling Mary Ann about the show at Yoshi’s. She would have enjoyed it, but she’s not one to be passionate about mostly instrumental music ala Robben Ford. In what seemed like no time at all, the phone, perched right above me on the headboard shattered the silence, and as if in a dream I answered. My mom’s voice on the other end assured me it was no dream. My dad had gone code blue and she said he probably wouldn’t make it. With her pragmatic delivery and my understanding of the severity of the situation, I was off the phone and getting dressed in about thirty seconds, shortly on the freeway and on my way to Eden Hospital.

I though about speeding down there as I left the house, then I looked over my shoulder at the assortment of softball equipment shifting in the back of the van. I had my CHP excuse at the ready, but the more I thought about it, the less I saw the need to speed down there. As I drove southward I was so full of hope, I kept imagining that he would pull through. These hopes were dashed, after making it into the hospital and getting somewhat lost on the way to ICU, I was greeted by a nurse whose first utterance to me was “I’m sorry.”

The day after I’m in kind of a state of shock. I met my family at the hospital the night he died and wasn’t back home until around 4:30am, awake again around 7:30. The ability to get up consistently before the sun rises is directly attributable to my dad, once the sun is up, my time to sleep is over. The first day was kind of a roller coaster ride, but still very surreal. I tried to occupy myself with some of the tasks I knew I needed to do, but I was very distracted and unfocused. I don’t want to give the wrong impression, I wasn’t blubbering away uncontrollably, but I’d relax and lay back a bit to settle myself, realize the gravity of the situation and take stock emotionally. Two of Mary Ann’s sisters called that afternoon after their mom delivered the news and the opportunity to talk to them about it really helped put my mind at ease. Before then, around noon, I received a sympathy call from a friend, I had trouble getting words out without a sustained pause now and then. But after talking it through with Marjorie, I became confident and able to make some calls to other friends of mine who’d gotten to know my dad.

Saturday rolls along and we have a softball tournament. There was never a question of missing it in light of his recent passing, at the risk of sounding cliché, this is what dad would have wanted. I only mentioned it to a couple of people throughout the day, but when we were finished with our third game (which we won), I huddled the kids together and explained to them how important the team was to me, and that their efforts this long day in the sun were appreciated in a heart-felt manner.

His passing is sad, but there are a number of positives to draw from. He lived each of his 79 and a half years to the fullest. He was known, loved, and respected by many, liked by even more. Devoted and loving husband, father of 6, grandfather of 9. He was a living example of fairness, compassion and tolerance. 22 years ago the surgeon who performed his triple bypass estimated that he’d extended his life by 10 – 15 years, every day beyond that was like a bonus. My family is at peace with the outcome, there was very little suffering, for which we are all very grateful.

I will miss him very, very much.

Ring finger

2005-07-01T07:18:00.000-07:00

Robyn Anderson called me last night in a panic, just as we were geting home from practice, she couldn't find her wedding ring. We held practice at Curt Flood field - I've been bounced around about 3 times in the last couple weeks, but we're finally back at Laber field (Owen Jones).

I lined up a pitching workout for Nat and Josie with Sara Adams, so while Annie and Jim worked with pitchers, I asked Robyn if she'd help me run infield defense. Robyn's game to help just about any time I ask, this was no exception. After assigning players to positions, I absent mindedly get ready to hit grounders when it occurs to me that she may need a glove. I glance over and she's using mine - no problem. We go through a number of drills, I'm shouting instructions and coaching in my usual fashion (old Yeller), things are going OK. During a water break, Robyn and Mary Ann are in the 3rd base dugout chit chating and watching my niece Elizabeth, at some point they made a comment about the size of my mitt and how it was sometimes difficult to catch with it - Mary Ann's used it once or twice.

Water break over, we're ready to resume and apparently Robyn can't get her hand all the way into the glove. She manages to work it out and we continue, by now we're doing a fly ball drill where they can finish up and come in for a popsicle. I anticipated a much warmer afternoon, earlier in the day it had been hot, but now there was a breeze coming in off the bay. Robyn, Kera and Shauna had to leave early, they were hosting 30 people for dinner, so they're driving off by around 5:45. The usual routine, I have people helping take equipment up to the car, I lock the gates as we wait for the last of the parents to pick up their daughter.

Now I'm home and on the phone with Robyn, looking through equipment bags, examining the mitt in which she thought she lost her ring. As she's describing the situation from an hour earlier, I have the glove in my hand, pushing my fingers as far as the can possibly go into the glove, squeezing, bending, shaking it, I'm certain there's not a ring to be found inside it. I have emptied equipment bags, buckets, searched the floor of the van - nothing. She calls again 30 minutes later to tell me she can't get into the field because it's locked up, so she slides herself under the gate somehow (she's slender enough to do this), and before long I'm off the phone again.

Enter Mary Ann. She asks for the glove, puts her hand in, then starts kneading the fingers. "Aha!" I'm thinking, how can that possibly be? I missed it, the ring was there in the ring finger of my glove the whole time. We call Robyn as she's sitting dejectedly in the dugout at Flood and I'm almost positive she shed a tear of joy. Hey, I guess it took a woman's touch.

Midway through tournaments

2005-06-29T05:55:00.000-07:00

It's June 29 and we're at about the half-way point for tournaments this summer. We have 3 scrimmages in Napa this weekend, then it's Benicia, San Anselmo and we're done. Many good things have come about as a result of this, but I'll be the first to admit that I'll enjoy the break when it's over.

(By the way, Paul Ash has taken some very cool pictures. )

One thing that I've enjoyed has been the nicknames we're throwing around. Good way to break the ice, get the team chemistry working.

Kelsey: Swamp Dog
There was a record producer years ago that went by this name. For me it conjures up a player who will do whatever it takes, not afraid to get dirty, someone a little shifty. Plus I've been threatening to call her this for the last year, it wasn't until now that she actually became the swamp dog.

Bria: Quarterback
When I was about 25 I played with a guy who was a high school quarterback - he was our centerfielder. He was one to pride himself in taking charge in the outfield, directing traffic, making great plays. Bria had wanted to play a different position, she was a pitcher and first baseman during the rec season. My intention was to emphasize to her how important her role as an outfielder would be.

Kelly: Skywalker
I wish I had this kid for the entire season, she is going to miss the last 2 tournaments. Kelly has speed and hustle, and so much desire that I've used her as an example more than once. She's not great swinging the bat, but she finds a way to get on base, and when she leads off, it's usually not more than 2 or 3 pitches before she makes her way to third.

Erin: Buckeye
I wasn't sure if she was going to be Buckeye or Hawkeye. She wears an Ohio State sweatshirt and an Iowa sweatshirt to practice sometimes. Very good player, and a kid with confidence and a sense of humor.

Alexis: Spidey
I pulled this one out of thin air so I'm not sure how much sense it makes, but Alexis is quite a good player. She benefits from being around her older sister who plays on the 12U tournament team, and her dad who is an experienced ballplayer himself.

Kera: Wheels
Talk about being born to run, Kera is pretty darn fast, and once she gets going on the bases, she donesn't want to stop. Even if it mean running through a third base coach's stop sign.

Haley: Stingray
I credit Kelsey for coming up with this one. At first I was at a loss coming up with one for Haley. She's the one who is really bound to gain the most from this experience, I think in a couple of years she'll be one of the top players in the league.

Taylor: Pepper
I started calling Taylor this going back to last year. She's got a saucy mouth and a strong bat. The first time I ever interacted with her was 2 years ago, she was heckling me as I took batting pracice.

Morissa and Elena: Moose and Mouse, or, Oscar and Felix
Best friends, same school, same team - I first liked the Odd Couple names, but the kids made the change based on their relative sizes.

Jordan: Mungo
Just like Alex Karras in Blazing Saddles, Jordan is a very strong girl. When we started scrimmaging with Alameda and San Anselmo, she was murdering the ball. She's going to be a good pitcher very soon.

Audrey: Supermodel
What can I say? She reminds me of Cindy Crawford, who strikes me as not just a pretty face, but a physical woman with brains. Audrey will not be overshadowed by her older sister.

Josie: Steely
Couple things going on here. Last year I told Nat and Kelsey about the steely glare a pitcher should have when facing batters. Josie has it. Then there's the Steely Dan song, when we play it, I love the way Earl improvs during the last break - "Josie you're a BAD girl"

Claire - Doc
This girl has an incredible demeanor - very positive, very enthusiastic. I can tell that she's smart, I wouldn't be surprised if she becomes a doctor when she's an adult.

Natalie - Pork Chop
Well, this is kind of a fmaily joke. Before I met Mary Ann, I rarely ate pork. Now that we have two kids, I couldn't imagine NOT eating it.

There are also nicknames for the coaches, but in a much less official capacity. Annie is Burger (name derivative), Maria is Popcorn (she can pitch with some heat), and Kelsey calls me Old Yeller (my propensity for shouting, no doubt)

A particularly fun day amid a series of fun days

2005-05-29T08:20:00.000-07:00

The tournament girls softball team I caoch with Maria Morris played a double header scrimmage in Alameda yesterday. I lined this up with Don Musso of Alameda about a month ago, a way to get both of our teams ready for tournament play which begins mid-June.

My thoughts:

Don is a great guy, very organized, passionate about the game, and a pleasure to deal with. His wife Danni organized food for the day, and really took care of us in a first class manner. His daughter Allie was delightful, personable and actively involved in coaching their team and inspiring their players. Their players can put the bat on the ball, they sent a few shots into our outfield, Don's daughter in particular hit a towering fly that went for a double. I wish we had more fields and parks like they have in Alameda.

Maria and Annie Berenberg are my base coaches and they're both awesome. They both know the game very well and as a result, I think they inspire our girls. Annie's just a kid, so she's playful in a older sister way with a lot of the girls on the team.

You won't find a better scorekeeper than Rob Cook. Going through the scorebook after I got home, I was amazed at the level of detail he provided - and it was just a scrimmage!

I like all our kids. I'm breaking the ice with a few of them, but they're a pretty fun group. Claire and Jordan, who we picked up from Piedmont, are pretty serious hitters - both sturdy girls who can put some muscle into their swings.

Josie and Natalie proved why their our top pitchers, but in fairness to the other girls, they've had more structured instruction. I'm looking forward to bringing the others up to speed, but I know who our horses are.

Our parents know how to have a good time. We had a mock scrimmage after everyone had a chance to eat. It was grown ups against the kids. I got a couple phone calls after we got home from parents telling me how much fun they had and what a great day it was. I said the same thing to both of them, this was a fund day in what will become a series of fun days.

The girl brings some heat

2005-05-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

About 4 years ago, there was a discussion among coaches in our girls softball league that revolved around whether 8 year olds should have to pitch in games, or if we should adopt a strict "coach pitch" approach. Someone made a point that having kids that young struggle to get the ball over the plate would eventually break their spirit and we run the risk of damaging their self confidence and their willingness to re-join. I was pretty new to coaching kids at the time and was willing to defer to those more experienced than myself.

Now that I look back, bottom line is I'm glad that cooler heads prevailed and kids were allowed to pitch. Nat's been going ever since and we're at a point where she's really developing into a decent pitcher. I admit I've had to nudge her along at various points, but now she truly loves to do it, with me not having to coerce her to practice like I used to. Now if I say "hey, let's pitch," she's generally agreeable. And whenever she has a mitt on her hand she'll say, "I wanna pitch, OK," not satisfied to just play catch.

But the best part is that she's not one-dimensional and focused solely on sports. I won't bore anyone here with all the wonderful things she does, but Nat and her brother are becoming fine, well-rounded kids.

Speaking of the boy, he had games last Saturday and Sunday, played great D at short and first, racked up about 8 hits and many RBIs over the weekend. Yesterday he played again, despite slightly damp field conditions, and he hit the ball harder than I've ever seen hit hit it before. 2 were absolute frozen ropes between 2nd and 3rd, the other team's shortstop made a great play on the first one. 2 at bats later, the same kid almost made another great play, but couldn't hold on.

Good bye, Bumpy

2005-03-30T07:02:00.000-08:00

We signed up to bring home the pet gecko that lives in my son's classroom. For a while now I've thought that a reptile or other caged animal might make a good pet - still not sure. We were given feeding instructions by his teacher, along with supplies and a cage of about a dozen crickets. We watched with anticipation as the crickets explored the cage, however, Bumpy didn't seem interested in any of them. OK, so she's not hungry right now, we thought. The next time she was scheduled to be fed, instead of sprinkling the calcium powder on the crickets (a method that seemed to hardly have any effect), we put a cricket into a container with the powder and shook it up until it was coated like flour over a ball of bread dough. Once in the cage it immediately got the gecko's attention and within 30 seconds Bumpy had lunged, bitten down and gulped the defenseless insect.
Other crickets soon perished, some fed to Bumpy, others either starvation or old age. By the end of our 4 days, 6 or so dead crickets littered the bottom of their container.
Alas.

Opening day is here

2005-03-05T07:30:00.000-08:00

Girls softball season starts today, with our first game next week.

I just gotta say, I'm very proud of the girls I coach. We had a scrimmage against another team in our division and I think the girls had a real good time. Rain held off just long enough - this is the 3rd or 4th time I've been on this side of lucky with the weather - and the newest kids with the least amount of experience did a fine job. But you know what, it was the returning kids who really kicked major butt.

First off, Aja put the ball in play twice, once for a pop out to the pitcher, and once for a clean infield single. Brea, Jaydia, Sophie and Anais all contributed at the plate, and Bria, with that tiny strike zone, reached base and stole like crazy.

On the other hand, returning players really showed how it's done. Lea is very impressive with her alertness, she was close to turning a double play on a grounder. Noa showed she's been listening by running all the way through first base, and Kelsey did an admirable job catching. Natalie's confidence at bat was very high, she absolutely smoked a line drive uyp the middle her first time up, and laid down a perfect bunt her second time. Yes, she hit some batters, but I chalk that up to rustiness. It did put a little fear into their hearts, more than one batter was backing out as the pitch split the strike zone.

There was more, but I'll save my breath for when games really count. Overall my kids looked and sounded like they were having a great time, whereas the other team was kind of quiet. They were pumped up and supportive, I expect it'll get better when Jeneba's there to cheer.

Spring training

2005-02-25T02:45:00.000-08:00

ML is on his way to the desert for the weekend. There's a once-a-year occurence where the Milwaukee Brewers, who train in Peoria, bring in volunteers to shag balls while prospects and vets take batting practice. Mark's brother in law lives in the area and has done this in years past, this year he called Mark and he, Suzanne and the baby are on their way for a weekend visit. From what I understand you bring your own shoes and glove and they outfit you with a workout uniform. Sounds fun, I'm anxious to hear about it when they return.

A dog's life

2005-02-21T11:31:00.000-08:00

There seems to have been a lot of talk about dogs lately. Friends of our recently got a puppy, we enjoy visiting and taking walks once in a while with them. Natalie enjoys this most often, she spends a fair amount of time with Kelsey and Claire.

And it's all been a very good thing from my perspective, I think the kids will have a better idea about what's involved in owning a pet. But those who know me well will know that very few dogs can ever measure up to my own, may he rest in peace, Lester.

Stories about Lester are out there (he once saved a life), and I'm at sort of a loss when I try to recall my favorite one. But there was a time when I almost lost him, and none of the subsequent legends would have come to be part of my memory.

I came home from work one rainy day to find he was gone, bored with his dog house and the cold rain. The yard was fair sized and he had companionship in Mark's black lab, Onyx. There were kids that he liked playing with, sometimes a couple of 8 year old girls would come to the door asking if they could play with him. This time, however, there was no sign of him anywhere. I made calls, checked his usual haunts - the elementary school around the corner was a favorite. Nary a sign. I posted flyers and put an ad in the local paper seeking his return. The ad ran a week, and on the day before it was set to expire I finally got a call.

A lady probably in her 60s called me at work and described the situation to me. She told me that her neighbor, some dangerous maniac who lived there about a year was suddenly showing up in his yard with a golden retreiver that matched the description seen in the ad. She had spotted him from over the fence. I was warned that this guy was probably going to kill me if if I stepped onto his residence, but she was just interested in doing the right thing as a concerned pet owner herself.

Great. I'm scared and apprehensive, preparing for the worst.

I drive over to the place that afternoon, I forget where in the flatlands of Hayward, the lady's house was well kept and sat close to the street, right next to a lot with dying grass upon which a 1930s bungalow sat. It wasn't as nice as her house, but I expected a weather beaten sugar shack by the way she described the situation on the phone. I spot Lester on the porch with a young girl and boy, maybe 8 and 5 years old. In the driveway, closer to the house sits a U-Haul truck and a pickup loaded down with what looks like the contents of the household. Not exactly Tom Joad, but you get the picture.

Turns out that this was about the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet, as for the neighbor lady's warnings, I have no idea where that was coming from. I explained to him the situation and when Lester saw me he ran to me excitedly, so the guy knew right off the bat that I was legit.

He'd had Lester for about a week and his kids had become somewhat attached to him. After all, this was a dog that was only disliked by cats and rodents. Mr. Phychotic (not) now has his own Lester story to recount to me.

I'd say it was around the end of March and the last of the rains were making their way through. Lester bolted from the yard and meandered arounfd the neighborhood, probably not expecting to embark on an epic walkabout, but nevertheless, he wound up on Foothill Boulevard, making it about a mile down the road to the Safeway store. Led by the aroma of rotissierie chicken, he made it behind the counter at the deli. The store manager's having a fit, on the store intercom he's trying to locate the owner, since his tags were somehow gone. My new friend steps up and says he'll take care of the situation. I think he had good intentions of finding Lester's true owner, but once his kids got in on the action, his willingness to make that effort subsided. He hadn't seen the ad, but I'm very grateful his neighbor did.

The kicker is that he was getting ready to pull up stakes and leave for Texas with family and dog in tow the very next day. His kids bid a tearful farewell, I think I even saw a tear welling up in his own eye.

So I came real close to losing him, but it turned out to be one of those experiences that helped build the legend.

Lester lived about 9 more years, I chalk this one up to his youthful exuberence.

Will work for fine wine

2005-02-21T11:19:00.000-08:00

My brother-in-law has been in the wine buisness for some time. Besides being a good guy to hang out with (knowledgeable sports fan, former professional musician) it's always been nice when the family gathers for an ocassion and he brings wine.

Last year I started laying out the catalog mailer for his former company. Nice guy that I am, I said I'd just jump in and do it - his office manager left abruptly and they had no one to prepare the catalog, an 8 page folded piece that goes to their wholesale clients. After I did the first one and Drake came back looking for help on the next version, he offered to pay me to do it.

It was my idea to take it out in trade, I enjoy wine with my dinner now and again. maybe have some friends over, maybe have something for the host next time we're invited to someone's home. As a result, pretty soon I'll have the beginnings of my wine cellar (or in my case, a wine closet.

Salud!

My Online portfolio

2005-02-20T06:53:00.000-08:00

I'm guilty of not having updated my site in a while, but it's still current enough to give a flavor of what I've been up to:
rlaber.com
My other domain name and site doesn't have any public content on it yet, I've been using it as a client test site. Someday I hope to have a sgnificant amout of work at www.rockylaber.com

DSD Interactive

2005-02-20T06:47:00.000-08:00

Allan Miller and myself have recently formed an alliance. We call it DSD Interactive, a web development and design practice.

We'll be posting a number of articles and resources for small-to-medium size businesses. Our focus is to work with entrepreneurs, executives and principals who don't have the in-house resources, IT staff or the know-how to put parts of their business online.

Allan's a brilliant database designer and engineer. We combine his back end expertise with my front end visual design skills, kind of a yin and yang approach.

The Brownie gig

2005-02-20T06:27:00.000-08:00

BCO website

My wife and I were invited to a 40th birthday party for a friend of ours from the kids' school. It was a real fun time, held at a small dance studio, we learned some salsa steps. I think it would be a great place to have a party, maybe we'll do Mary Ann's next milestone there.

So a lot of friends are there, not all are particularly close to us, but people we both enjoy hanging out with. One guy I talk music with is Kevin, he plays guitar in some kind of regular casual group (garage?). I started telling about a gig we played the night before at a school in Orinda.

Here are the pertinent facts:
The band sounded great - all the parts were tight.
The PA (weeks old) was absolutely dialed in. I heard every note everyone played or sang.
The crowd danced with zeal - I'd say 90% participation.
We got paid up front.

It's times like these you remember, I was brimming with pride.

Back to the salsa party. After a couple drinks, mingle, hang out - I end up with Mary Ann and a small group of people including Kevin and his wife. Someone asks me how the band's doing and I'm ready to launch in with my gig story from the previous night, but before I can get much more than a couple of words out, Mary Ann, a little too eager to provide her take on things, lets it be known that it was a dance for a Brownie troop. It was actually a father-daghter dance for the troop our keyboard player's girl belongs to.

OK, so I have a little egg on my face, but you know, it kind of tasted like an omelette. I hadn't mentioned to Kevin that the 7-10 year olds were screaming like Beatlemania when we played, nor that we signed autographs whn we finished. So I took my lumps, maybe blushed just a little bit, but you know what? I'd play that one over a dog gigs where the crowd doesn't give a shit or dance.

Feel the love! BCO!

Spring is in the air - baseball/softball

2005-02-20T06:02:00.000-08:00

Eric's baseball team held practice on consecutive days, both amid the worst baseball weather you can imagine.

When we left the house Friday afternoon there were a few drops coming down, but the sun was shining, so we figured it would pass quickly.

Wrong.
The drops persisted steadily, by the time we parked and walked the path to the diamond, a group of guys who had been shooting hoops were on their way out of the park, apparently having had their fill of guessing if it would clear up or not. Off in the distance, a line of kids was taking grounders, so Eric and I quickly made our way over to join them. I was about to start hitting to the kids when a flash went off behind us. The first thing I thought of was that someone was taking our picture, but I guess because we were so close to it, the thunder clapped before I had a chance to think otherwise. So there I am, aluminum bat in hand (yes, the handle is rubber, but is that enough insulation?), and the coach directs us to find shelter under a canopy of trees.
Practice over, and now it's really dumping.

An ominous start? I don't think so.

The coach finagled a gym for Saturday practice and we all agreed to see him there (the next day) at 3pm. I don't know much about him personally, but the way he conducts practice shows that he's been involved in youth sports for a while. He's stern, but very fair, and I will do well to pick up a couple of pointers for my own practices.

In fact, I already did.

I had a practice for my girls team Saturday morning, even though I was full-on ready to scrub it at 10am. Then I got a call from one of the kid's mom asking if we were still on. I looked outside and (optimistic me) figured "what the hell" - we're on for 11am.

So what if we only had 6 girls, I had 3 that really needed the work. We have a ways to go, it's going to be a challenge getting the whole team in sync. In reality we probably won't get there 100%, I can't see someone like Natalie or Kelsey firing a ball to one of the new players for an out on the bases. It may happen, but not consistently.

We'll wait and see if we get a break with the weather, what my players really need is one on one work with their parents - and a scrimmage so that when we start playing in less than a month they won't be shocked by the experience.