Michael Papelbon

This spring, I made a conscious decision to not coach baseball. I had recently been coerced into taking over the head coaching gig for Pee Wee football for the upcoming fall, and I had a thick book of offense and defense to learn. So I figured that I could use the time off from coaching to prepare for the fall. Apparently, I underestimated the power of other parents' apathy, and Michael's team soon found itself with no coach. After one of the other parents suggested that we all take turns coaching, with each parent taking the job for a week, I knew I had to step in.

So I became the manager by default, and while it has been fun, it's also been stressful. We play three times a week. That’s three nights of dealing with ten 7-, 8-, 9- and 10-year olds, mostly by myself. However, one of the positive things to come out of this is that we’ve discovered that not only does Michael enjoy pitching, he’s actually pretty good at it. His motion was a bit clunky at first, but now he stands in the stretch, glove pressed tightly to his face, head down, staring at the batter, and then fires quickly. He throws pretty hard for a small guy, but throws mostly strikes, which, at this age, is the most important thing. He loses focus once in awhile, but I would guess that’s a problem with most 8-year olds.

Now, he’s out in the front yard for long stretches, throwing to his pitch-back, and calling balls and strikes. I’m sure his interest will fade a bit once mountain bike season starts, but it’s been fun watching him have fun out there (which is evident by the hopping and dancing in between pitches). As a coach, I have to temper my praise to be equal with that for any other kid on the team. But the dad inside me loves watching him try and succeed.