Defeat

Last weekend, I spent it with friends up north. During one of our numerous conversations, we got on the subject of baseball, and then the slo-pitch league we play in during the summer. Kurtis, who spent most of that summer out west and wasn't playing, recalled how he went to the fields during the playoffs and saw me sitting alone on a bench. He was about to say "Hi Phil! Good to see you!" when he noticed I was alone, head bowed, crying profusely, and utterly broken. Instead, he went "Ok, well Phil is over there. I'll just go that way instead..." I'm glad Kurtis decided to walk away and not talk to me; I doubt that conversation would go over well.

That was my last memory of my first and last experience co-managing in a slo-pitch league. I could come up with all sorts of excuses for why we were eliminated earlier than I thought we would, but as in life excuses get you as far as nowhere. The truth was I overestimated my team and underestimated the opposition; two of the cardinal sins of any manager or coach. There are other misdemeanors I can plead guilty to, so I made a list of them.

• I cried in front of my team that day and apologized for embarrassing them; then, once they left for lunch, I stayed behind at a park bench to cry some more.
• I lost my batting gloves, and by 'lost' I mean 'hurled them in a random direction and neglected to look to see where they landed.
• For a summer day, the next five hours spent alone in my room were the coldest on record.

I vowed never to coach again, unless it was absolutely necessary. Much to my surprise, however, I was already considering next year, and getting better. "Next season" began in my room that August afternoon. There was too much at stake, and the memory of how last year ended is too fresh in my mind. This year will count for something, or I will quit for good.

Anyone got any batting gloves?