Jeremiah's School of Levitation

Well, the boy didn't make the All-Star Team. The combine-like tryouts were intense, with coaches with clipboards and stopwatches scrutinizing the 8-year olds like they were pro prospects. There were numerous fielding and baserunning drills, and the boy performed beautifully. His glove was sticky and his running was taut and his throws strong and long. But then came the hitting drill and, well, he only hit three out of six pitches. That was what sunk him. It was uncharacteristic of him, since he had the one of the best on-base percentages and the most home runs on his team. One bad day, and that did it.

His team sent seven boys to the tryouts and only three made it. I won't make any judgements about those who made it, except to say that my son could probably be considered a more consistent performer than, well, at least one of those chosen. But, one of those chosen put on a hitting display that made some people gasp, and even though his fielding was lacking, his hitting was strong. And, in baseball, a hit is what everyone sees and remembers the clearest.

A sports All-Star, I told my son, is not decided by a single performance on a single day, but by consistent performance over the course of a season, or a career, which, using that criteria, makes him a sports All-Star. Though I'm sure that Cowboy fans remember quarterback Clint Longley because of his monster Monday Night game years ago, the Hall of Fame remembers Cowboy quarterback Roger Staubach because of his monster career of many years.

So, though my boy was dejected, he has as much heart as he has body, and was just glad to be invited and glad to see that his team sent twice as many players to the tryouts than anyone else. Coach also assured him that he was my boy's biggest fan, and that he was indeed the best all-around player on the team. In a conversation later, coach told me that the boy has many years of baseball ahead of him. I agree.

And, of course, life is full of not making the team. I know this very well. I was a round kid and not only did I get picked last when teams were being chosen in grade school, I would then be trade bait ("Okay, how about we trade Jeremiah to you for NOTHING?") and, when the trade didn't work out, the rest of my team groaned and grudgingly dealt with my lumbering, goofy presence. Ten years later, though, after I worked my ass, and my goofiness, off, people clambered to have me on the team, but, for a long while, it wasn't that way. Not making the team just means that you need to keep working because, if you do, one day, you will not only be on the team, you just might BE the team. I know this very well too.

So, we smiled the rest of the night and celebrated the fact that my son made MY All-Star team years ago and that, when he comes home, he's got nothing to prove, no tests I'm clocking him in, and no competition. I may be a Little League Dad, but there is a clear distinction between "Little League" and "Dad" as to which one is guaranteed to stand behind my son and trumpet his abilities and, ultimately, give him the trophy he deserves.

OMG, this got me all misty. Boy-child has a soccer try-out this Friday for the 'stepped up' soccer league in the fall. I'm more worried about it than he is. You're an awesome dad, Jeremiah!

I second that motion!!! your boy is a lucky lad... :)))

Welcome to the big leagues already! Perhaps you might remind the boy that the fellow who founded Chrysler Corp. was motivated by losing his job with Mr. Ford.

Mona: Oh, garsh... Of course, he might be a better hitter if I knew how to pitch the dang ball. I could never play baseball--I used to be bad when I was a kid, and now I'm worse. I bet that, even at my present age, I wouldn't have even made the 8-year old All Star team.

ipod: Yeah, now that you mention it...!

TG: Good point. I've always said that the first people I'll thank whenever I publish a book will be my family, but the second person I thank will be the guy who rejected my first book because he motivated me to try harder.