Coaching Debut, Cultural Conficts, and "Ball, Ball, Ball!"

Hey fellow readers. I am really diggin' the fact that you guys are appreciating my pics/writing. I feel the love people. Dad, let me start by saying that I read your email with tears in my eyes...I love you, Dad. I really needed that. I can only wish to be a dad like you to my own kids. I assure you that I will try my damndest. Karly, thanks for the comments...I laugh everytime when you comment, Tiffany, no more Cheezits :-(...Alex, thanks for laughs that I know everyone shares with your words and I will wear a hat whenever I the fuck I want to, Ian and Emily, thanks for the talks guys, Joey, I will get you a choo choo pic soon, Phyll, it was really good talking to you the other day and I can't wait to share what I have seen and experienced when you get here, and Mom, thanks for working really hard on sending my package. I know that you want things to be perfect and I know they will because it is from you. Goes without saying that I love and miss you guys everyday.

Let me start with Wednesday. I had two practices this day. The Cadet team and N1 team. Jean-Luc is gone on a umpiring tournament somewhere in France, so I have the reins this week. Paul was back from his spring break in England and I could tell he missed having a bat in his hands. He was all smiles when we started working out. I am finding it easier to portray a coaching image to everyone. Little by little, I have become somewhat an authority figure in their eyes and they now know what I expect at practices. So they warmed up and I had a drill planned for these guys.

"Fly ball communication." I yelled.

Now in the states, once this is yelled at my past practices...those words are usually followed by groans. I will explain why in the following sentences.

So I placed the kids in different positions on the field. We had 9 this practice! Alright so I started just sky rocketing flyballs from home plate. They were all just admiring the little dots in the sky (baseballs) and making few catches. I expected this at first. I then got the point across that you have to say, "Ball, Ball, Ball!" for communication reasons and avoid collisions and dropped balls. Once they caught a couple balls consecutively, I then yelled....

"10 perfect."

Back home this could last awhile. Here in France, I was prepared to do this for the next 90 minutes. So at first, they would get up to about 5 then someone would fuck up. I'm sure at this point the kids were thinking....

"Oh this is kinda fun!..."

Well after catching up to 7 without a mistake then fucking up on '8', they were starting to get pissed. Hahaha, little Paul...

"Alle, puton de mierde! (LET'S GO, Fucking Shit!)" He would scream at the guys who were fucking up.

This continued for about 30 more minutes. The kids were yelling "Ball, Ball, Ball!" on the top of they lungs and would rejoice with satifaction when they caught it. They are starting to come together. Through this frustration and communication. Ok...so we got to nine. And the kids were chuckling nervously at the possible last pop fly. Paul then yelled.

"Tony, hit me the fucking ball!"
"You got it."

I reared back and hit the highest ball I could. Paul was at SS, and the ball was tailing towards 2nd. Paul called off Sam who was at 2nd and was sitting under the ball. Everyone had the look of desperation. This ball was just cometing down to Earth....

It found his mit.

All the kids just threw their gloves in the air and thanked whatever god they worshiped. The Bp felt earned to these kids and that is what I wanted. Their practiced ended great....

Now our practice....I have not gotten this mad in a long time.

After the kids rolled out, our guys started rolling in. It started to rain quite a bit but we were going to practice regardless rain,snow,hail,or tornado. We have to work out those 9 errors from last game. Not only that, but we have Montigny this weekend. Currently first, and us 1/2 game back. This is the matchup of the season. They have skilled players and good pitching. We have to be on top of our game.
So as we were talking in the dugout as rain was pouring down, I get a call from Vincent.

"Hey, I'm not coming to practice."
"Why?"
"It's raining and I am having a couple beers at a bar."

Unfuckingbelievable.

"Well, we are practicing and you are going to miss it. Do what you want. Goodbye."

This was the just a little more fuel being added to the fire. Charles then asks me.

"What are we going to do?"
"Well..we are going to wait this out for a bit, and if it doesn't let up, then we will go into the gym for groundballs."

He quickly retorts, "No."
"I am going home and I am not going to take anymore ground balls. We don't need to."

I could piss nails.

In the most relaxed and calm voice I replied.
"Charles...If you leave. You will not play on Sunday."

"Fuck it. I don't care. I am leaving."

Some of the guys looked astonished at this response. So Charles, walked off and went home.

There are some things that I can tolerate. I can deal with cultural differences. I CAN NOT deal with a blatent insult to my work. I have poured my heart into trying to incorporate baseball in Bois Guillaume. What just happened is a direct slap in my face. Charles might as well as stuck his middle finger in my face, now I know that gesture is universal.
At this point I was just beside my self. I wanted to destroy something. I wanted to pound my fist into someones skull.

I wanted to destroy something beautiful.

Every muscle and bone in my body wanted to release furious anger.
About 15 minutes later, Chris suggested that we take ground balls on the soccer field astroturf. So we walked up to the neighboring soccer field. The guys all put their stuff away and started to get ready.
4 of the guys starting throwing a nerf football around.

"If you throw that fucking football one more time...I am going to run you until you have nothing in your stomach."

At this point, the guys saw a side of me that I don't show often at all. I lined them up and started training. I vented to them about how much disrespect I felt at that moment. I will not get into exact words but I can assure you that they could understand how crushed I felt. I don't think I have ever felt that madman's emotion before. I never want to have it again.

After they warmed up throwing the ball around, I motioned for them to come in for a talk. I first said I was incredibly grateful to have them here at every practice. I pounded my heart and said,

"This shows me you have this."

I then said,
"So put a fucking smile on your faces and let's take some fucking ground balls. HAVE SOME FUCKING FUN GODAMMIT!"

They all laughed and we took practice.
This venting needed to happen and it is done and over with.

A cultural conflict.

Thursday. Yesterday is gone. It is another day.
The French have another day off work because of some holiday. Man...they have a lot of these. So we had a rescheduled softball game today. I was to be the head coach! First time in my life that I had this kind of responsibility. I woke up and got ready for the day. I got to the field today at 9am and starting working on getting it game-ready. I was just getting ready to walk back to the dugout to start the lineup when I heard shouts of arguement. One of the father's of two guys ont he team, who never come to practice and he is a board member, states that he is going to be the coach and that he has a line up already written.

Ok, Tony. Deep breath. Destin. Cinque Terre. Children's Laughter......

Now....What?

The girls were almost in tears because everyone knew that I was going to be the coach and Jean-Luc specifically said that I had the reins all week.
"Tony, Tony, Tony, you have to coach us!"...."I don't want to play like this!"
Aww...this was really sweet. So I calmly said to the father.
I brought Laura over to translate every word I was going to say.
"Jean-Luc said I was going to be coach. If you have a problem, you can call him. If not, I want a clean lineup card."

"Ok, Ok, Ok, no problem."
The girls rejoiced with satisfaction and starting getting ready.

The other team showed up. Louvier. I was shocked as soon as I saw our competion. 10 grown men and 1 girl. These guys started warming up in left field. Maybe one or two of the players on their team was 15-20 years of age but the vast majority were in their mid 30's. Great. This is softball people. I really don't see the satisfaction of beating up on teenage girls.
There was no way I was going to alter my 7 girl starting lineup. I had to prove a point. We had to prove a point.
We took infield and looked pretty salty. Then they took infield....
A maniacal grim bloomed on my face....

We are going to murder these guys.

They struck in the first innings. One run off one hit and followed by enormous cheers. Are you fucking serious? Unbelievable.
We started off slow and found ourselves down 3-0 after the first two innings of a 7 inning game. I then huddled up the team.
"Guys...relax. Look at their pitcher right now."
He lobs a puss pitch.
"We are going to crush them. Just relax. We are going to score 20 runs this game."
They all smiled and we had another Woodchucks breakdown.

Then we put it to the old assholes.

Their is a six run limit per inning. Let me just say we used that rule for the rest of the game. Now I will tell you something even more unbelievable that happened in the 4th inning.
The score was about 14-3 at this point in favor of us. The other team's players had run to each other on three different fly balls. I then brought everyone together after the 6 run mercy took effect.
With a grin on my face.

"Now do you see why you say Ball, Ball, Ball?"

Then exploded with laughter. Now let me mentioned something that happened in the 4th inning. Virginie, our pitcher, was just mowing down these guys. Their head coach, 40 yrs of age lead-off hitter SS, calls time and heads to the mound. I then was summoned by the umpire. The girls were yelling with detest and I know that this wasn't going to be good.

"Wi." I breathed.
The other coach replied in broken English, "You have to change pitchers, no pitcher throw more than 4 innings."
Are you fist fucking me.
I then turned to Virginie.
"How old are you Virginie?"
"19."
"And how old are you?" To the coach.
He was baffled and insulted, as he should have been.
"It's the rules. Sorry. Change pitchers."

Virginie slammed the ball into my hands and took third base. Cami was to take the mound. This was the funniest thing that happened all day. Cami is a national French ball player who throws absolute gas. She threw her first warm up pitch.
It wizzed into Arthur's mit.
HAHAHAHAHA, I would just to have loved to know what the other team was thinking now. She continued to strike out the next 7 hitters in a row.
I was going to hold off stealing to show respect but not now. Green light all day. We won 27-3. I have to say that a little bit of today's and yesterday's emotions were morphined in today's win. It pleased me even more that every one of my players got on the field and atleast one at bat.
Their coach shook my hand and it was understood that their isn't any bad blood. So everyone and everything was tranquilo.

I love you guys and I will talk to you soon. Show me the comments. Au revoir.