Sports are not just something we do around here.
They aren't games, they aren't hobbies and they aren't ways to fill our time...
Sports are something we live.
I remember the first time I saw my husband cry.
We were 18 years old and had just pulled into the parking lot of a Bakers Square to get some food after the last basketball game of our senior year of high school.
I put my mom's minivan into park and looked over at him and saw the tears rolling down his cheeks. I had no idea what to do, no idea what to say and was almost afraid to move.
He doesn't cry when he is sad, he doesn't yell when he is angry and the only reason I know when he is nervous is because I have been around 16 years and I've caught on to his mannerisms.
He was then and is now the steadiest line I have ever seen.
His composure during a downslide is one that I wish I could have ever.
Heartbreak or happy, up by 50, pitching a 17 strike out game or getting eaten alive on the mound you would never know by looking at him.
He is as steady as it goes.
This past weekend Joe coached his high school team in the sectional final game. He coached them to a regional title and to a win in the first round of the Class 1A sectionals. He coached and the boys played all the way to the top sixteen schools in the state...and then they lost.
And as we stood in the hall waiting for him to finish up his interviews, the team slowly started trickling out of the locker room to find their parents and friends and girlfriends and I saw in the faces of those seniors the same sadness that I saw in Joe's 14 seasons earlier.
The thing about high school sports is that for many athletes it is eventually the end of an awesome road. Despite what people who aren't insanely involved in sports think, there aren't just unlimited chances to play beyond high school.
After high school you have to stand out. You have to be something a little bit bigger and a little bit better. You have to be something a little bit more.
There are lots of athletes who don't ever play again after high school and even fewer that play after college and at a certain point it is no longer your choice if you get to play or not.
After a while, people choose you.
The sadness in Joe's eyes after he played his last basketball game years ago came from more than just the loss itself.
That loss symbolized an end. The last time he would ever step out on a basketball court as a player.
He still had baseball (my god did he still have baseball), but for basketball...that was it.
This past Friday when I saw the eyes of the players walking past me my stomach turned a familiar turn and my heart broke a little bit for them.
The thing about sports is that they take up all of your time.
They are all encompassing.
They dictate when you take vacations, when you see your family...
They start to define the way you see yourself before you even realize it.
You are the athlete, the coach, the big deal.
No matter how big or small the school, no matter how small or grand the venue, your sport starts to define you and shape your life and the lives of those around you.
Have you ever said the words "it's just a game" to an athlete or a coach?
Have you muttered them in the presence of a parent, girlfriend or family member of either?
You probably weren't met with a very understanding reaction.
You probably weren't corrected because when you live sports the way an athlete or their family lives sports, they know when you say those words that explaining why you are wrong would take way too long. You meant no offense, but offense was probably taken.
When you invest as much time and energy and emotion into something as athletes do into sports, it is never "just a game."
Sports are something we have lived as a couple pretty much from day one.
We lived it in high school and just like the families, friends and players that I watched in the emptying halls of that school this past Friday...it was meaningful to us. It dictated when we saw each other, what we did and it even started to shape who we were as a couple.
We lived it in college on the baseball field and off. Friendships were made, relationships were tested and for the first of many times, birthdays and big events in each other's lives were missed.
We lived it in the minor leagues. We spent months apart, lived in different countries for a little while, fell into massive credit card debt just to see each other and fell asleep talking on the phone.
And then, as decided by somebody else...his days spent living as a player and mine as the girlfriend of that player were done.
Just. Like. That.
You know what happens when sports is over?
You panic.
When you play a sport for a really really long time, it becomes who you are. You miss the people, you miss the time spent at practice, you miss the traveling and the the games. You miss being (enter your name here), the (enter your sport here) player.
Suddenly that is who you were...
There is some semblance of that when you are that person's girlfriend or parent or wife. You were the person on the other side of it all, you filled your days with games and your weekends with road trips and you had plenty of free time when you couldn't afford to make the trip. It was what you did, too.
And then it ends and you are kind of just there for a little bit. You figure it all out easier than you initially imagine, but it is a strange strange feeling when it ends.
For us, it didn't end for long...the gears just kind of shifted.
He is the coach now and I am the coach's wife.
And with that comes a whole new set of sports obstacles.
It's interesting being on this side.
In some ways it is similar. I'm still the person cheering from the sidelines, I'm still the ears that listen to the recap of the game for hours after it's over, I'm still the keeper of stats in my head, the bragger of the successes and the bearer of superstitions that you also probably don't understand if sports is not something you have lived.
I still cringe when I hear the negativity from the fans as it pertains to Joe and I still have to bite my tongue. Thankfully, there is not beer sold at high school games. (Although, in my defense, I only turned around and spoke back to a big mouthed fan at one single baseball stadium so I am pretty proud of my shocking ability to remain quiet through all of these years).
I feel the same frustrations now as I did then when it comes to people not understanding. It isn't just a game, this isn't just his job and you aren't the only one that matters. As his wife, I wish that people could understand what a good coach great coach puts into the game. I wish that when they so flippantly criticized they realized how much he puts into it.
It doesn't end after practice.
You saw the game once...a coach plays it over and over in his head the whole way home, talks about it once he gets home and wonders what he could have done differently.
You think a coach is a coach.
You think he coaches practices and games. You don't realize that coaches typically see your kids more than they see their own. You don't know that I'm incredibly thankful for the amazing staff he coaches with not just because they are also great coaches but because those guys become his family away from his family.
You don't think about the fact that we have had to toss a cell phone at his assistant coach at the end of one season in case I went into labor in the middle of a game. You don't realize that while you still get to eat dinner with your family, my kids don't because they are typically in bed by the time he finally gets home.
You and I find this picture cute for far different reasons.
To you it is just cute.
To me these were moments when our boys got to play with their dad for a decent chunk of time.
You might ask why he coaches if it takes so much out of him. You might think that if it is something that means so much time away from his family it is something that he should step away from or that he should just find a school closer to home to coach at. You might not understand.
But if sports is something you have lived, then you do.
You understand that it is something that you just need to be involved in somehow even when your days as a player are over. Whether you are coaching a team, running a training facility or announcing games...you just need to be there.
Someone who lives sports doesn't coach it or play it for the recognition or the chance to pump up his own ego when he wins. When you live a sport, you don't do any of it looking for credit, for a pat on the back or for a job well done. A great player or coach doesn't ask you to see what he puts into it.
He wants to play as a team and win. He wants to be better than the day before. He wants that for himself and for his team.
When Joe walked in at 12:45 in the morning after his team lost this past Friday, he looked proud and disappointed, but what stood out to me the most was the look in his eyes when he told me how the team reacted after the loss. They were sad and emotional, but when he walked onto the bus after the interviews were said and done they thanked him. They understood that it was about all of them, and that he worked hard with them. He wasn't a guy who chaperoned practice and bus rides.
He was their coach...and if it is coached right, the season means something more to coaches just as it does their players.
I was proud of him and his team in that moment. He deserved that as much as they deserved to play as long as they did.
They worked together...and they should all be proud.
We ate dinner as a family last night after a completely sports free day. And while each of us thanking him for how he coached this season might have been a bit much, we did make sure he knew that we were incredibly proud of him and his team's accomplishments this year.
He got to eat dinner on our red plate that gets taken out when someone deserves a little special recognition for a little something special because he did something special.
I'm proud of him and his team this season because they played the season as more than just a series of games. I think they might all deserve dinner on a red plate.
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