a softball story

this is from a speech i gave at my toastmaster's meeting last week....it's true.

So what is our reward for this work? This dinner banquet once a year?
A dinner you still had to buy a ticket for? No we volunteer for that
ephemeral sense of JOY. We have learned the truth of the axiom, "'Tis
better to give than to receive." We come into such difficult
situations. We roll up our sleeves and we start to dig. We endeavor to
remove the layers of indifference or neglect that hide untapped
potential.

But boy…it takes a lot of work. I was a camp counselor one summer
during my college years. For 2 weeks I lived with a dozen 9 and 10
year old boys. Anyone who attempts to stop them from talking all night
of from having burping contests at the dinner table will quickly lose
most favored counselor status, even male counselors with hair down to
their shoulders and multiple piercings. 9 year old boys know "cool" in
substance is better then "cool" in appearance. This camp wasn't just a
2 week parent relief camp. No, this was Christian summer camp. The
mission was a tough one, to get kids to understand there is a God who
loves them and wrote a book for life that might not have the
appearance of cool but does have the substance of cool. The only group
harder to convince of this message would be a pile of rocks.

But I had a breakthrough with the entire of cabin of boys. It took
over a week of rule enforcing without temper tantrums on my part. It
started with hikes with a couple at a time and some rough housing on
the waterfront. It came during the staff vs. counselors softball game.
Some of those boys were serious Little League athletes. For some
reason they expected a lot from me…unknown to me. Unknown to them, I
never made the cut for the Little League team. Never. In fact, I
hadn't played on a baseball diamond for 10 years. I knew the rules and
the mechanics and could throw a ball and run but Catching and
hitting….they require practice.

Because there were more than 9 counselors, I sat on the end of the
bench for the first 5 innings. At 19 years old, I was a scrawny young
man, at least 40 pounds lighter. But the manager finally had to play
me and sit down some of his bigger, older, stronger, and more
enthusiastic players. It was a hard fought game. The counselors were
down a couple runs. In my first at-bat I hit a grounder to the
shortstop who started the double play and ended the inning. In
contrast, I performed flawlessly on defense, but not to my credit but
to my team manager's credit. He put me in the outfield, in right
field, where balls are hardly ever hit. The only balls that came my
way in right field were those tossed to me during our warm up before
play resumed. The staff got another run, through no fault of my own,
and my team was down 3 runs. I didn't have to bat the next inning but
we did get another run. Back out on defence in right field I was
agains spared from having to field any hits. Right field was shorter
than left field. It ended sharply at a rising hill covered in 80 foot
tall evergreens that blanketed the mountains of New Hampshire. The
next inning neither team scored, nor did I hit. But in the last
inning, I came up to bat with two of my teammates on base. An infield
ground ball was not the play that I wanted. My team didn't want it and
my cabin didn't want it. I had disappointed them already. They were
willing to cheer loudly for me. I was young enough to be called
"john." So it was very easy to chant "go John" instead of the other
cabins who had to chant "go Mister smith." There is something about
chanting "mister" that prevents it from rolling off the tongue. Being
a simpler chant, other cabins joined in to cheer me on. "go John." I
swung at the first pitch and nicked the ball backwards and high behind
me. Fortunately, it his the fence so that the catcher couldn't field
the ball. Strike one.
I did the same thing with the second pitch. Strike two.
The kids were getting nervous. The fielders had relaxed and had
actually walked in a few yards for the easy hitter….ME.
The third pitch was wide and I was patient enough to not swing. The
kids were really loud now. The next pitch precipitated something akin
to an out-of-body experience for me. I stopped hearing the cheers, I
stopped seeing the ball. I swung as hard as I could. The ball
ricocheted off the bat hard and high. The crowd erupted. I started
running to first base. The ball was high enough to be a pop fly, an
easy catch, but it was going to right field! As I stepped onto first
base the ball came crashing down into the trees just outside the
field. The crowd roared again. I hit the ball out of the park! A home
run!

I slowed from a sprint to a jog. I only heard the roar. I couldn't
distinguish any words. But the tone of the cheers changed as the 2nd
runner came home and I came up to third base. The right fielder had
searched the woods and found that big white ball! In fact, as I came
around 3rd the ball was on its way to the cut off man from the
infield. My home run was not automatic! Suddenly I needed to beat the
throw to home. I was horrified. The kids were horrified. I resumed
sprinting. I made a flying leap like superman to the plate and touched
the bag between the catcher's feet as he caught the ball. My walk off
homer became a full sprint 3 run, game winning home run.

Suddenly, I lived in a cabin of kids who respected me and anything I
had to say. They were now the hosts of the microcosm's softball hero.
The tangible proof of their admiration was presented to me before we
all turned in that night. After our evening bible reading, they gave
me a game ball signed by each of them. The best part of this trophy is
that they told me how they stole it. I now possessed a stolen
softball, stolen by the Christian campers, from the Christian camp,
for the Christian counselor….As you can see, I chose not to lose my
connection with them by making them return it. I had solved the
mysteries in my cabin. I had broken through. The JOY of our
relationship was more important over the long term than immediately
enforcing a rule. So I stand here with my reward. Its one of many in
my subsequent years of volunteering, coaching, tutoring, and
mentoring. I know all of you here have something so much better than
this dinner as your reward for your work, and I know it always brings
a smile to your faces like this brings to mine.