My Hatefulness

Often, we fail to recognize our own hatefulness because we naturally, and sometimes easily, find justification for it.

"Well... but... look what THEY are doing. It's not worse than that."

"I said what I said because they said that other thing."

"I believe what I believe because it's what I know, it's what makes me comfortable, it's what my parents believed, I don't really understand the other sides, I just can't relate. I just believe what I believe."

"I reacted or responded the way I did because, in that moment, I couldn't see anything but what was right in front of me."

"I think what I think because I have never experienced that ANY other way but this one way."

"It can't be possible. I would be a horrible person if that was REALLY possible and I just ignored it... avoided it... failed to acknowledge it. It just can't be possible."

"OH MY GOD this is uncomfortable. NOTHING good can come of it... I feel like I am losing control. I AM. I am losing control. I can't see what is next. How can I be prepared for anything if I have no idea what might happen next..."

I have spent my whole life working to understand the experiences, beliefs and ideas of others. I grew up knowing that my normal was not the normal of others and wanting more than anything to explore the normal of others so I could relate. What is like me is fine. But that which is different is my preference. I crave diversity. I seek it out. I love it, in all things.

My hatefulness rears its ugly head in the moments when I am scared. Fear is my monster.

I am not often afraid. In fact, my mom has always said that the one thing that scared her most was that I wasn't afraid of anything at all. But as I grow older, I become more afraid. I become increasingly aware that I can't conquer everything, I can't fix everything, and I can't save everyone. Sometimes people will get hurt. And sometimes, I will get hurt.

If I allow it to consume me, I lose valuable time that could be spent continuing my journey of learning about people and loving people which is all I want to do in this lifetime. It is never my intention to allow my hatefulness to breach the surface of the loving, caring being I am purposed to be and intent on being. But it happens.

And for that, I am heartily sorry.

The Team that Always Loses

When you are the coach of the team that always loses, you begin to question not only your ability but the impact you are having on your players. You wonder if your ability to see potential, to see the good in others, and to sometimes be a "fixer" has clouded your view of reality.

People do not play sports "just to have fun." There are cave carvings in France that depict running and wrestling competitions. So, before we had written word, we competed. Sports are played to find a winner. Who is better? And, eventually, who is the best?

As an athlete, I had my share of success in grade school and high school. I played for some really great teams. College was a different story. I didn't go to school to play sports but I ended up playing in a program that was rebuilding. It is a program that, today, has found tremendous success and grown from just 60 athletes to hundreds of athletes. As young as the age of eight, I understood that, ultimately, the goal was to win. Losing is not fun so whoever says we are just playing to have fun is either lying or trying to make the best of a ridiculously bleak situation.

As a coach, I have always chosen to lead the athletes that everyone else cuts from the team. I am the "B" team coach. And my "B" teams have always found their niche in the sport and excelled to success. Until last season, I had never had a year with no wins.

Teaching a sport is relatively easy. Teaching teamwork and decision-making skills and execution under pressure is an undertaking that is markedly more difficult when you work with kids who never played organized sports until high school. Day to day is fun. Practices are more than just bearable. They are training grounds on which we watch as athletes blossom from hesitant and nervous kids. But game time brings the pressure to not just play well but to win and most of my kids? They don't believe they can win. Some don't believe they deserve to win. And after a few losses, I am no longer convinced that I have what it takes to help them experience victory.

In the midst of a game, I doubt myself. I don't know what to do next. The wheels start coming off and short of dressing out in uniform myself, I feel desperate and frustrated and discouraged. I know everyone is watching and listening and I think maybe I just don't want to do it any more. I don't want to torture these kids by forcing them through the motions every day. I don't want to drive 40 minutes for a 2 hour practice every day. I don't want to develop a new line up or teach the rotation ONE. MORE. TIME.

As the coach of the team that always loses, I shed a lot of tears. I reach back into my past and try to dig up any ounce of glory I once lived so I can remind myself that it's all worth it. I wish that I could bottle up my good times and pour them over the heads of my players so they can feel that big win JUST ONCE. Because like potato chips... you can't have just one.

As the coach of the team that always loses, I wonder if there will be a next year. For any of us. Then I remember, I still have to get through tomorrow and the rest of the week and the months of September and October. So I try to shake it off and get some sleep. But the sleep does not come easy.

Glimmer of Light

Wandering woefully along a desperate path
The glimmer of light at the end
Seems so far off
So I continue.
Distractions come frequently in various forms
Like ice cream and playful puppies
And a new guy
Who's so familiar.
The sand slips from the top glass
Into the bottom so quickly
Day after day
And I wait
For the heavens to turn my life over
End to end so
I can start again.
Sometimes encouragement makes an appearance
But only briefly so I will not falter
For I know
I cannot stop
Not now, not ever, not even on the most painful days.
Whether I run or skip or walk or trudge
Up every hill
And down into valleys
The key is to move it or lose it forever.
Sometimes I forget the greatness of my purpose
I lose sight
Of the why.
But I look up and see that glimmer of light
In the face
Of a child
Of a student, of a friend, of a relative, of a stranger
In need of love
of a little hope.
Like an empty cup, I beg and borrow and steal
For a refill so that I can pour out again
Into those around
Me, those nearby.
Sometimes I wonder if that glimmer of light at the end
Of this path is really anything at all or
Just a figment
Of my imagination.
Wandering willingly along a hopeful path
The glimmer of light at the end
Seems so bright today
So I continue.