I've been playing sports my whole life. Baseball, soccer, basketball, you name it, I've probably tried it. I've had a countless number of coaches, some good, some bad. But I never thought my life could be so drastically changed by one person, one person who made it his mission to be more than a coach.
I met him when I was 12. I was in the sixth grade and I just started taking softball seriously. He was friends with my travel coach at the time, and I learned that once I got to high school, he would be my high school coach. He was a big man, strong in a way that made it seem impossible that he was 62. He always had on matching clothes, with a large, expensive watch, and wore multiple rings that were bigger than a quarter. The only thing bigger than his rings was his heart.
I could tell you 100 stories that described the type of man he was. He took me and a bunch of other girls up to a college camp one of his best friends ran. He was determined to make us better in anyway he could. One time on our way home from the college, which was two hours away, we stopped for dinner at a Burger King. He noticed a boy at the table next to us didn't have anything to eat. He went to talk to him and he ended up buying him food because he discovered the boy didn't have any money. No one else at our table had even noticed he wasn't eating.
He showed me how much he cared about me when I was 13. My cousin had just passed away and it was the first time I really experienced death. I was at the funeral and not one of my friends had showed up to support me. I went up to receive communion and when I turned around to head back to my seat, I saw him standing in the back of the church. I ran up the aisle to him and he engulfed me in a big bear hug. It was the first time of many that he was there for me. I wasn't even one of his players yet.
Once I got to high school, I got to be around him more. From March 15th to the end of May we were together every day for practice and games. He never ceased to amaze me in his caring for our team. We were all like daughters to him, and he proved it every day. From my freshman year to my senior year, we always had 10-15 uniforms. That's no exaggeration, and they all were paid for out of his own pocket. Anything we needed, even if we didn't ask, we were given.
My sophomore year there was a girl on my team who didn't have a glove. She was very kind and shy, and usually ended up borrowing someone else's spare glove for practices. My coach took notice of this and asked her if she had her own glove, she said no. The next day there was a brand new glove sitting on the bleachers waiting for her.
He made lineups for every game. They had a picture of a girl fielding on them, which he colored in to match the uniform we were wearing that day. It also had a quote on it in the top right corner. At the end of the game, whoever he thought was exceptional that day, got the lineup. I still have all of mine. He was always surprised to hear that I kept them after the game had ended.
On top of being an amazing person, he was an amazing coach and player. He had 501 career wins and is in two Hall of Fames for softball. He could hit a softball, at 70 years old, 350 feet, I've seen him do it. He won a state title with his old high school that he coached, and a district title with mine. He always made practice fun, whether it was goofing off and telling jokes or having us play football with a softball and always rigging it to have his team win, everyone would leave practice with their stomach hurting from laughing so hard.
He's sent dozens of girls on to college softball, including me. I know I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today without him. He believed in me from the day he met me, when I was the little 12-year-old who spent more time chasing after the balls she threw half way down the street than actually pitching them, to the day I stepped in the circle for the first time as a division one pitcher.
He passed away last week at age 70. I struggled to remember the last time I saw him for awhile, for you never know it's going to be the last time you'll see the man you never thought would die. After some deliberation, it came back to me. He had invited me and the other captain from my senior year over to his house this past summer to play with his granddaughter and have some pizza with him and his wife before we both went back to school. We spent a lot of time there and as we got up to leave he gave us each a big hug. When I got mine he told me how proud he was of me and right before he let go he said, and I quote, "Just remember, the fat guy loves you."
I hope he knew how much he changed my life. I entered high school as this scared little girl who didn't know if she could be the player everyone thought she could be. I was terrified to fail and let everyone I knew down, especially him. He gave me the tough love I needed my sophomore year, and at the time I didn't understand it, but the next two years played out to be successful years for me, with no one else to credit other than him, for pushing me past a level I didn't know I could exceed.
I found a letter that he handed out the first day of practice my senior year. There's a line in it that says, "Perhaps someday...Maybe even years and years from now... some of what I've shared will make sense to you. For now, just know that you've got a coach who cares, really cares, about you and about your future---as a player- but more importantly as a person!!" I hope he knew that we as a team, cared just as much about him as he did us. And I hope he knows that everything I am, and ever will be, as a softball player, and as a person will be because of him.
I love you, XE.
