There are a lot of things I can't seem to remember these days ... important things like whether or not I turned off the stove or unplugged the iron or where I put my keys or what day of the week it is or whether I've eaten anything or if I've taken my medications. But I do remember in vivid detail playing softball when I was a teenager on a team that won three consecutive championships. I'm pretty darn sure that remembering important things like stoves and irons and car keys and days of the week and food and pills is way more important than remembering all those softball games from more than 30 years ago. Even so, I can't remember if I ate lunch today or where I tossed my keys when I got home tonight, but I remember what the dirt of the infield felt like on my cleats ... I remember the thud of the bat as it made contact with the ball ... I remember the pain of getting smacked in the neck by a hard-hit line drive ... I remember the smell of the oil on my glove. There's a lesson there, you know ... when I forget what's important and remember what's not ... there's a big lesson there, friends, a really big lesson there.
A few nights ago, a friend joined Ollie and I for our evening walk ... a friend I met on the trail just a few days after my little fat buddy wiener dog J.R. died. She's quite a few years younger than me ... seems like everyone I know these days is quite a few years younger than me. She's married to a really great guy, has two beautiful, amazing and talented children, and is truly one of the kindest, most caring people I've ever known. She lives one street over from me and she's the one who will lead the charge on digging me and my sweet dogs out of the basement should a tornado ever hit my house ... no really, she promised. We talk about all sorts of things when we walk together, and she has this wonderful gift of being able to get me to smile even on my darkest of days. She talks when I need to listen and she listens when I need to talk, and I'm so very blessed to call her my friend.
As we neared the end of our walk the other night, my friend began talking about her teenage daughter, saying, "I think my kid learned a big life lesson last week." She related the story of what had happened at her daughter's basketball game a few days earlier, telling me how angry her daughter was as they drove home after the game. After much prodding, her daughter finally told her that the coach had called her a loser ... yep, you read that right ... the adult coach called my friend's kid a loser because they were behind in the game. There's so much I could say about that jerk-face coach, but he's not worth my time nor the effort it would take to type out the choice words I have for him. It's my friend's kid who deserves the spotlight in my post this evening, not some arrogant, mean, condescending jerk.
After telling her mom what the coach had said to her, my friend's kid calmly said, "I'm quitting the team ... I'm quitting. I won't be treated that way, Mom ... he can't talk to me like that." As my friend went on to tell me that she and her daughter's father had discussed the situation and agreed they would support their daughter's decision, all I could say over and over again was, "Good for her and good for you guys." And as my friend and I said goodbye that evening and Ollie and I turned to make our way home, the tears I had been fighting to hold back spilled from my eyes, streamed down my cheeks and dripped onto the front of my shirt. I picked Ollie up and cradled him in my arms as I whispered into his furry little ear, "Good for her for standing up and saying no more, Ollie, and good for her parents for being behind her all the way. Good for them, Ollie, good for them."
Now here's the thing, friends ... there are some of you who are reading this post and you're fuming mad right now, and you're fussing and cussing and saying that kids shouldn't be allowed to quit a sports team just because a coach gets after them or calls them names. You're steaming mad at me for saying I agree with my friend's kid and I most definitely agree with her parents ... just go ahead and take your place in that big old long line with all the other people who are mad at me about something I've said or done or haven't said or done. But while you're stewing and fuming, think about this ... fast forward a few years and let's say my friend's kid is dating a boy who suddenly becomes verbally or even physically abusive to her ... should she quit seeing him? Would it be okay to quit then? What's that you say? That's different? Just how is that different? Really ... tell me just how that's different.
And one more thing since some of you are already mad at me anyway ... I think the world would be a much better place if more parents supported their kids the way my friend and her kid's dad supported their daughter ... a much, much, much better place. Yes, I've heard the phrase a gazillion times, too ... "Quitters never win, and winners never quit." I disagree ... quitters sometimes win in a big, big way ... sometimes quitters win in a bigger way than we ever dream possible.
Go get 'em, kiddo ... something tells me you're going to change the world ... something tells me you already are.
No comments:
Post a Comment