Feeling unappreciated? I was! Take a read: Plaque (Sumner, Illinois, circa 1993) It was late summer of 1993. Zec was 10 years old and finishing his sixth full baseball season. I had coached him for all of them. It had been a miserable year; we lost more games than we won. Many of my players were kids with marginal talent at best and many of the parents were less than objective on the relative skill of the offspring. (Do I still sound a little bitter?) I counted the days until the season ended. Finally the big day came, the end of the season awards. I knew the ritual. I give the kids their trophies, say a few nice things about each player (hoping my nose didn’t noticeably grow) and then someone interrupts me, tells me what a great coach I am and gives me a plaque. I liked those plaques; my office was full of them. On tough days I would look at all my trophies, certificates and plaques to remind me that I am not really such a bad guy. The ceremony began and I did my part, but no one interrupted me despite the many chances I gave them to do so. There was no applause, no thank you and certainly no plaque. Stunned, I concluded and everyone quickly went home. Each kid left carrying a trophy (didn’t you used to have to accomplish something to win a trophy?) but the coach got nothing, zippo, nada, the big skunk-aroo-no, the only plaque I had was on my teeth. I was alone in the universe. At first I reflected on how sorry the kids were. I doubted any of them would ever find work. Then it occurred to me they were destined to be sorry with that group of parents; ingrates that they were. They obviously had no idea of how blessed they were to have me for a coach. I was feeling underappreciated, ignored, taken advantage of and just a little depressed. Then the voice of the Lord spoke to me (or something did). Did I spend my whole summer coaching for a $10 plaque made of laminated pressboard to appease my ego? If I did, I was an unabashed idiot. Was I so petty that I needed the half-hearted accolades of a handful of people who cared little about me to justify my efforts? What is driving this thing? That day I realized I was a sick man. That was the last year that Shane Bishop ever coached. The Shane Bishop who coached the following year did it to teach a great game, make a difference in the lives of young people, spend time with his son, influence parents for Jesus Christ and to show God’s love to my community. It was the best year I ever had! We won game after game, several baseball families came into the church and it was fun. The difference? I was coaching for the right reasons and it made all the difference in the world. They even gave me a plaque.
Posted on: Wed, 06 Aug 2014 22:12:18 +0000
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