Even my son called me “Coach” when we were on the field. I suppose it was easier for both of us. I could correct, teach, and praise with the roles defined and accepted. He could play, develop, and be part of the team. Player and Coach. We were on the same team, but with clearly different responsibilities.
I was still Dad on the way to the game and the ride home. Talking about video games, the weekend plans, and school.
Coaching is now over for me in the sense it was for tee-ball, baseball, soccer, wrestling, basketball, lacrosse, and football. My office at home is decorated by plaques and photos, signed by my players and fellow coaches. With my kids moving into upper school, the rec league years are in the past. And I did not miss out of them. I am thankful.
Two ticks, so far,
in a forest of black fur,
still hungry, searching,
and not yet settled
into his skin.
Exhausted, he lets me comb
through his mass, a massage he thinks,
tongue a slab of deli ham,
my dog smiles with his eyes
and ears; surely this must be his
He swims through a bowl
of water, everywhere spashing,
then gobbles up his kibble,
perhaps thinking between breaths
that this day wasn’t his typical
Hills, mud, rocks and up, up, up.
More likely, he is thinking,
now that the air is just between
cool and warm and full of
critter scents and bird songs,
“Finally!” and “More!”
That device that my son uses to text me cryptic, yet extraordinarily complicated logistical, immediate, and preferential information requiring my action, could use an enhancement.
If there was only some way the developers could add some sort of 2-way, real time, voice-based communication; some tele-phonic feature that could work directly with my own device. That would be great.