“Every dog has its day.” It is a phrase most everyone has heard, but I was surprised to learn its origin traces back to the 1500s when uttered by no less notable than Queen Elizabeth I.
Paraphrasing that early remark, its implication is that every dog and every person has a period of power or influence. I was reminded of this inference via a Facebook posting declaring October 6 as ‘National Coaches Day.’
Unaware of such an observance, research revealed President Richard Nixon issued the proclamation in 1971 while encouraging activities and ceremonies honoring coaches for the friends and counselors they become.
For many, October is most about football, the World Series, and Halloween. But its marked calendar observances also include Columbus Day, World Mental Health Day, and National Dessert Day. In fact, every October day is earmarked for some special occasion, as remote and silly as some may be.
I have no idea how many of the men and women out there who have devoted any of their time to coaching observed the day or even had any idea of its existence. But across the country, in every community, a coach organizes teams and plans practices and training, motivating players to strive to be their best. At the same time, coaches pinpoint areas for improvement and supply guidance. Every sport or competition requires a leader. More importantly, a leader who knows the game and drives athletes to work together as a team.
Often, a coach’s words will echo through an athlete’s mind for years to come. Although a coach’s goal is winning, they do so through a wealth of knowledge. Coaches work to build teams that bond well. They develop a work ethic and set standards for those they coach that carry with them throughout their lifetime.
Rarely do these coaches even know their impact on an athlete until years have passed. But anyone who has ever coached can recall fond moments when a past athlete reminds them of something they said or done that is remembered with clarity by the athlete affected.
During my lifetime love affair with sports, I had the opportunity to play for many coaches and learned something from all of them, but two specific ‘lessons learned’ have never been forgotten.
One occurred as an 11-year-old Little Leaguer when I was called out on strikes after taking a 2-2 pitch that I ‘knew’ was a ball. Inexplicably, my temper got the best of me. The next thing I knew, I took my bat and threw it over the backstop. The umpire immediately threw me out of the game. Complaining all the way back to the dugout, my manager, Goody Goodrich, quickly admonished me, telling me to take a seat. There, I sat in disgrace for several innings until the game concluded.
Coach Goodrich made me sit there until all the other players had gone home. He very sternly gave me a dressing down. In my defense, I told him it wasn’t a strike. “Yes, it was,” he said, “because the umpire said it was.” Then, he gave me some life-long advice.
“If you don’t like striking out, don’t give the umpire a chance to call you out. Swing the bat!”
I decided to do just that. For the remainder of the season and the subsequent 12-year-old year, I never struck out again. I went to the plate swinging, and the results ended up being very much in my favor.
The second took place years later, as I attempted to make the baseball team at the University of Houston as a walk-on. I had been among 70-some roster hopefuls and had progressed until the day before the final cut was made.
On that fateful day, we were practicing a first & third baserunning drill. The concept was well-understood. The first base runner was to get himself in a run-down, allowing the runner on third to score. Taking my lead off first, as the pitcher threw over. Instead of getting in the run-down, I dove back to first.
Coach Lovette Hill, an old-school coach with a pronounced Texas twang, erupted, telling me, in no uncertain terms, I screwed up. I sheepishly returned to the line of runners, awaiting my next opportunity for redemption. When that turn came, I nervously took my lead off the base. Then, BINGO, I made the same stupid mistake again, diving back to first base.
Coach Hill was livid and, adding a few choice words of emphasis told me to start running around the field. I don’t have any idea how many laps I took, but with each step, I became more fearful that my hoped-for college baseball dream was about to burst. Reality revealed itself the next day when I was cut from the team.
I never had the opportunity to thank Coach Goodrich or Coach Hill for those painful lessons. But in my many years of coaching, I have always emphasized to those I’ve coached that they can’t hit the ball if they don’t swing, and other than dominant pitching, baserunning can be the biggest reason between a win and a loss.
October 6th has come and gone, but if you have a favorite memory/lesson learned from a coach along life’s highway, take the time to reach out and tell him/her. You’ll both enjoy the experience.
