Montgomery County Mustangs
It’s More Than Baseball…
April 21, 2008 at 4:41 pm · Filed under Varsity Views
What a week! For those of you who didn’t see it, words can’t convey what we all experienced and saw. How do you describe the game with the Riders … other than indescribeable? How do you tell some one about the guts, tension, and fierce competition that was the 9-inning war with the Warriors on the next day? It was a tough game with a lot of twists and turns that didn’t turn out for us. Still, we clawed back from an early 3-0 deficit and we battled until the vert end.
Indeed, we battled hard and well on Thursday after the most difficult loss I have ever been associated with — not just with the Mustangs, but rather in my life of watching, playing and coaching baseball. I could not be prouder of a group of players.
As heartbreaking as the first two ball games were, the next two were extremely uplifiting. And to be clear, there was a lot to be encouraged about in the way you all played in those first two games, as well. We didn’t play perfect, but we did play well. We did peak at the right time. We got after it. We just fell just a bit short of advancing to Florida.
But we still won. We won the hearts … and the respect … of our opponents, their fans, and the umpires. The character of our players was on display and was noted by any one who took a glance. Tournament officials were blown away at both our players play and their conduct.
I will always remember and treasure our time together at the field after the Thursday game. Frankly, I was caught off-guard, but in a very, very good way. I am amazed at the goodness that has happened and continues to happen here. Praise God.
Parents and fans, you were simply the best … again. You have set the bar very high. Thank you so much for your support and encouragement during an incredible week.
What a joy to be associated with all of you.
Last year, we won one game at regionals. This year, we won two, and the two teams who narrowly defeated us played to advance to the HWS. Next year, if we continue to improve like we have, we should make it our goal to win three. It’s a long road, but the process and the climb are great, as we have seen. So, get on it.
And now … we press forward. There is more baseball to play, and more building to do … for this season and beyond.
See you all on the field,
Coach Rut
April 14, 2008 at 1:51 am · Filed under Varsity Views
Earlier this season, Coach Vario broke out the “3 P’s” — “Passion, Poise, and Purpose.” I like it.
As we head to Plano, I think these are appropriate to remember. We should always play with passion, poise, and purpose. We are MtB. We work hard and play hard, knowing that ultimately we represent a great program and a greater Savior.
To the three P’s, I’d like to add three “F’s” for us to keep in mind as we head out Tuesday:
First, we focus on the task at hand. On the field, this is simple: We get ready and execute the very next pitch and play. It may sound trite and simple, but it bears repeating. Teams get in trouble when the look too far ahead, or they think or worry about things they can’t control. In baseball and in life, all we really have control over is ourselves and our role in the next task God has placed in front of us. Remember how focused we were when we played TWCA. We have done this and we can do this again.
Focusing on a worthy goal with a great group of people is fun. This is the second “F”. So, let’s have fun in Plano. Funny, but fun doesn’t result usually if it’s forced or if it’s the primary goal of an activity, particularly a group one. But I think fun is a natural outgrowth of doing worthy things in the right way, especially with a great group of people. This is a great week and a celebration of our season, of homeschool baseball, and this program. So, enjoy the ride. I plan on having a blast this week, and you are welcome to join me.
Finally, let’s finish what we start. Finish. A lot of people, inside baseball and out, think a good beginning is enough. It’s not. Instead, let’s finish each play, inning, game, and the tournament itself. Let’s get after it until they tell us it’s time to come home. Remember the St. John’s game. Life rewards those who persevere, those who are determined to finish when others are faltering. So, let’s finish.
Finally, I’d like to return to one “R” that is our theme for this season — respect. Let’s respect every one we come in contact with this week in Plano — teammates, opponents, coaches, umpires, fans, every one. And … let’s continue in our quest to earn respect for this team and this program. Remember that you can’t make people respect you. You have to earn it. Yes, there are a lot of doubters in this world. My challenge to you is to make believers of those who doubt the Mustangs. Let’s do it.
See you on the field,
Coach Rut
April 12, 2008 at 10:14 pm · Filed under Varsity Views
I am reading one of my new favorite books, “The Mental ABC’s of Pitching”. There is so much in there.
For one thing, the writer (H.A. Dorfman) equates excuses with a pitcher’s “demons”. Check this out: “The pitcher must first slay his demons, before he can slay dragons. Excuses die, achievement endures.”
Honesty is a prelude to progress, in other words.
Dorfman is also a fan of the “yellow light moment”, where the pitcher or player steps away (from the mound, the plate, his position, etc.) and refocues, controls his breathing, his intentions, and then redirects his thoughts.
I like this one: “Brilliance in retrospect is not good enough for those who aspire to be excellent.”
Mostly, I really love this book because it reinforces some great simple truths about staying focused on the next pitch and play. We must remove distractions, focus on the task at hand, and then … do it. And what we are doing is really pretty simple.
Finally, in the chapter on “Execution”, there are these two gems that I think are very appropriate as we head into next week:
From Wilson Alvarez, on how he pulled himself out of a slump on the mound: “I’m just trying to be aggressive and not trying to throw the perfect pitch. I’m just letting it go and seeing what happens because I’ve got eight guys in the field who can make the out for me.”
And then this …
“They (many pitchers) try to squeeze information into their heads about their mechanics, about the hitter, about irrelevant circumstances and consequences and leave no room for the common sense of focusing on the target and delivering the baseball aggressively.”
In hitting, the most important thing is focusing on the ball (broad to fine focus). Likewise, in pitching, we focus on the target and deliver the ball aggressively.
It’s a pretty simple formula, but it works.
See you on the field,
Coach Rut
April 11, 2008 at 9:26 pm · Filed under Varsity Views
The other day at practice, we were talking about the wheelbarrow story that paints a word picture of what it means to believe.
Years ago, the man who led me to Christ shared with me the wheelbarrow illustration. Here goes:
A man had a tight rope stretched all the way across the Grand Canyon. He pulled out his wheelbarrow and started pushing the thing across. Sure enough he made it across, and then, he came back. Pretty soon he began to draw a crowd. As the man went across the canyon again … and again … the crowds grew larger and more vocal in their applause.
One young man in the front of the crowd was particularly boisterous, and he was cheering the loudest. The man with the wheelbarrow asked the young man in the front of the crowd, “Do you think I can make it across the canyon?” The young man emphatically answered, “Yes, sir, I do.” With that, the man with the wheelbarrow took off and again crossed the canyon. The crowd was cheering wildly as the man returned across the canyon. The winds began to whip, though, and he stumbled … but … he regained his footing and amazingly made it back across the canyon.
The crowd was now in an absolute frenzy, especially the young man in the front. Once again, the man with the wheelbarrow looked at the young man, and this time he said, “You said you thought I could make it across.” The excited young man proudly said, “Yes, sir, I did.” The man with the wheelbarrow looked at him and said, “You were right last time. Indeed, you thought I could make it. But do you believe that I can make it?”
The young man paused and thought a minute. “Wait, I already answered that,” he said. “No, you didn’t,” responded the man with the wheelbarrow. “You said you thought I could make it across, and you were right. But do you believe that I can make it?
Frustrated, the young man said, “Well, yes.” The man with the wheelbarrow looked back at the young man and answered, “Well, get in the wheelbarrow then.”
You see, there is a difference between thinking something and believing in something.
What about you? What do you believe in? Ultimately, I think belief affects actions.
When I say I believe in the Mustangs, I am talking “wheelbarrow” belief. We are not a perfect team, for sure. But guess what? There are no perfect teams out there. We’ve talked about this. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have focus on the next pitch and play, stay true to what we have been taught, and we will be fine.
Also, next week we’ll have (for the first time this season) our whole team together. This season, we’ve had to string things together through injuries and all, but I think we’re stronger for it.
Throughout this season, each of your teammates has shown himself worthy of your trust and belief. As you’ll see on Monday when we review, we are a prepared team, too. You should use your preparation as a basis to fuel your confidence and belief. We know how to have good at-bats; we know where we fit defensively now; we know that we can and should trust our defense and pitch aggressively in the strike zone; and we know what to do in every situation we will encounter.
So, what does next week hold? I don’t know. As I said at our Parent’s Meeting in January, I am a believer, not a prophet. I don’t know what the specific results will be. But I absolutely believe that we can and will play well. We are prepared to do so. A lot of people don’t think we can do this. That’s reasonable, I guess, and I understand. But won’t it be fun to prove them wrong?
Back to the wheelbarrow, you know, getting in that thing is not reasonable. I mean, the young man could get hurt, and bad. Indeed, if the young man jumps in, he doesn’t know what the result will be. He believes the man will make it across, but ultimately on this side of the canyon, he doesn’t know. But … he would never get the thrill of the ride without jumping in.
So … I am in. How about you? Are you prepared to trust, really trust, in your preparation, your coaches and your teammates, and go “all in” to put it all into play and execute like we know we can? If you don’t, you’ll miss out.
There’s room in the wheelbarrow, and a great ride ahead.
See you on the field,
Coach Rut
April 10, 2008 at 2:27 pm · Filed under Varsity Views
The following was sent to me by my friend, fellow coach, and rival Ray of the Thunder, proving again that its MtB for both of us.
So, hope you enjoy these words of encouragement from Tony Snow, the former Press Secretary to Pres. Bush:
“Blessings arrive in unexpected packages, - in my case, cancer. Those of
us with potentially fatal diseases - and there are millions in America
today - find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality
while trying to fathom God’s will. Although it would be the height of
presumption to declare with confidence “What It All Means,” Scripture
provides powerful hints and consolations.
The first is that we shouldn’t spend too much time trying to answer the
“why” questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can’t someone else
get sick? We can’t answer such things, and the questions themselves
often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an
answer.
I don’t know why I have cancer, and I don’t much care. It is what it is,
a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror
darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies
define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are
imperfect. Our bodies give out.
But despite this, or because of it, God offers the possibility of
salvation and grace. We don’t know how the narrative of our lives will
end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the
moment we meet our Creator face-to-face.
Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can
send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic
seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness
and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and
friends. You fidget and get nowhere.
To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into
life- and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on
this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a
conviction that stirs even within many non believing hearts - an
intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those
who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to
fight with their might, main, and faith to live fully, richly,
exuberantly - no matter how their days may be numbered.
Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want
lives of simple, predictable ease,- smooth, even trails as far as the
eye can see, but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists
and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance;
and comprehension - and yet don’t. By His love and grace, we persevere.
The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably
strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not
experience otherwise.
‘You Have Been Called’. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of
anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet, a loved
one holds your hand at the side. “It’s cancer,” the healer announces.
The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic
Santa. “Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler.” But
another voice whispers: “You have been called.” Your quandary has drawn
you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that
matter, and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that
occupy our “normal time.”
There’s another kind of response, although usually short-lived an
inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of
calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before
us the challenge of important questions.
The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change.
You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious,
and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence
of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful
caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger,
shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of Paul, traipsing
through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed
the antipodes ( Spain ), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not
about the morrow, but only about the moment.
There’s nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, for it is through
selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the
most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we
ever could do.
Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with
the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He
cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he
took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for
forgiveness on our behalf.
We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we
acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God’s love for others.
Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and
dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A
minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions
often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the
burden of two peoples’ worries and fears.
‘Learning How to Live’. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted
toward God’s arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so
doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have
emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love.
I sat by my best friend’s bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer
took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of
the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many
of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble and very
good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he
thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and
good humor literally until his last conscious moment. “I’m going to try
to beat [this cancer],” he told me several months before he died. “But
if I don’t, I’ll see you on the other side.”
His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn’t
promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity, filled with life and
love we cannot comprehend, and that one can in the throes of sickness
point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather
future storms.
Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not?
Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to
submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we
surrender our concern in things that don’t matter so that we might
devote our remaining days to things that do?
When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the
prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who
have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know
it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs
on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit.
Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to
lift us up, - to speak of us!
This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back
and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of
death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous
and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but
we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.
What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don’t know much, but we
know
this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak
or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe, each
and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the
hollow of God’s hand.”
T. Snow
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