A Baseball Story

  On a cloudy, cold spring day in Phoenix, I watched the tryouts for the Arizona Diamondback “Golden Gloves.”  These men and women snag foul balls and toss them to fans.  Most teams employ boys and girls, but seniors fill this role for the Diamondbacks.  A friend invited me I and thought I might find a story worthy of telling.  I wasn’t disappointed, but the story was not one I anticipated.

  Seventy hopefuls convened on a Little League field to demonstrate their baseball prowess in a series of skills tests.  It rained the night before, the grass was wet, the warning track muddy and the balls dirty, but they didn’t care.  They were at baseball tryout camp.

  The youngest were in their 50s and the oldest, Dominic, 78.  He grew up in Brooklyn, a Dodgers fan.  He got his first uniform in the 1940s from the Police Athletic League, but didn’t play games because there was no field.  It wasn’t until later in the navy that he learned the game.  When I asked why he was there he replied, “I love the game and just want to be down on the field again.”

  Joachim learned to play from his mother.  Some like Bob, 74, a self-described “light-hitting catcher” and Paul, who played through high school are still playing senior softball.  Bob has four senior softball national championship rings.  Shirley, the sole woman in the group, volunteers for the team and wanted to try something different.  Each came with a desire just to be part of the game.  Each expressed their love of the game, and collectively the 70 showed enthusiasm worthy of little leaguers.

  They cheered each other in success or misplay.  They yelled each other’s names and high-fived every attempt ignoring the competitive aspect of the trials.  The club selects only twelve. That didn’t matter; it was a game, the game.  They had one more chance to don a baseball uniform and in this case a big league uniform.  It is a chance to walk onto major league field and once again be part of the game.

  This story, however, isn’t about the “players” but one of the coaches, Sean Payton.  I can only imagine the players’ excitement and nervousness.  He set them at ease.  He spoke of the importance of their role in “keeping the game moving” and “adding to the fan experience.”  He related his enthusiasm and spoke of his responsibility to “pass the baton of enthusiasm” to them.

  They cheered because he cheered.  He supported each of them and rallied their support for each other.  In less than two hours they transformed from a random assemblage of aspiring Golden Glovers to a team.  One of the D-back’s staff remarked, “He should be a motivation speaker.  I would go to one of his speeches.”  I replied, “He is, and you are there.”

  In his book, The Mentor Leader, Tony Dungy states that everyone has a platform, no matter how large or small, from which to speak.  He writes, “Building a life of significance … means being willing to step out in your life and onto the platforms of influence you’ve been given and touch the lives of people in need.”

  Sean uses his platforms to touch others.  He does not measure the moment by the size or age of his audience.  He spoke of being a role model.  He spoke of the values instilled through the game and the role of relating those values to kids and adults alike. Was he preaching baseball?  Yes, but more than that, he was teaching baseball.  He was teaching what America’s pastime offers, and what each of us can offer to everyone with whom we interact.  He lives his love of the game, and he lives his belief in the importance of each of us.  St. Francis of Assisi said, “Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.”  Sean does both.

  Throughout the morning a D-Backs photographer captured the event.  Just before the “team” picture, as though on cue, the sky cleared. The picture taken, the group gave a final cheer and disbanded.  It was a bright day in their week. 

  Most of them will not tread the foul lines of Chase field, but every one of them will remember their moment in the tryout camp.  They will attribute part of that memory to a man who knows what is “right” about baseball.  He made their presence important.  He was their coach for a morning.

          He reminded them of the joy of the game and the joy of playing.  He reminded all of us of our responsibility to teach playing the game of baseball and the game of life the “right way.”  Years their junior, he is a teacher they will remember as Coach Payton.