An ongoing exercise in creative nonfiction.
As a writer, I cannot help but write, and write, and write; As an editor, I cannot help but cut, and cut, and cut. . . .
My blog readers know that for the last few weeks, I've been chronicling my son's recent youth baseball season, during which I served as his team's coach.
In the seemingly solitary act of writing, a writer is never truly alone. The process becomes a collaboration, a quiet exchange between the writer and the envisioned reader.
In this endeavor, I am gathering the astute insights of "first readers"—including you—to help guide my decisions as I attempt to craft a story that resonates with many.
The difficulty lies in striking the right balance between the specialized language of baseball and its accessibility to a broader audience. While the avid fans will relish the detail, others may find it distancing. A harmonious equilibrium between the game's rich language and general readability is essential to keep the story's heart without alienating readers.
I'm well aware that I can become overly wordy in these initial stages, a tendency not uncommon in early drafts.*
To my similarly verbose author clients, I often quote my favorite American sage:
"If I had more time, I would write a shorter letter." —Mark Twain
Rest assured, once this exercise is complete, I will revise and refine the narrative into a succinct, coherent piece, satisfying both the baseball enthusiast and those who appreciate a well-told story.
As a writer, I am compelled to write, and write, and write; as an editor, I find it equally natural to cut, and cut, and cut.
Now, without further ado, let's continue with the next chapter of our baseball serial: "A Spirit Unleashed."
*See also "Even Editors Need Editors," my February 7, 2023 blog post.
The Rockies were on a path that promised to be both memorable and thrilling, a journey that had only just begun. . . .
In the heat of baseball battles that were to come, coaches Tommy, Jerry, and their merry band of Rockies would grow and learn lessons together that transcended the diamond.
Throughout the season, Tommy maintained his unwavering focus on resilience, steering clear of any temptation to coddle his charges. His intent was to mold these young men into mature athletes and individuals who regarded America's pastime with the same reverence and thrill of competition that had always stirred his own heart.
To the delight of the Rocky coaches, players, and their families, the team began to flourish, and their chant—"We will, we will, rock you"—became a battle cry, a collective mantra of resilience and determination.
Meanwhile, Tommy's son, Tris, became a dynamo on the basepaths, a whirling dervish of energy and creativity. His favorite routine, a daring dance that involved getting caught in a "hotbox" rundown to force a defensive error and slide into scoring position, was his signature move.
Yet Tommy initially observed his son's baserunning exploits with mixed emotions. As a father, he wanted to steer his son in the right direction. He was torn between the guilty pleasure of an entertained fan and concern as a coach of integrity.
He was cognizant of the murmurs from opposing teams, coaches, and fans who were quick to label it "Bush League."
But if the peanut gallery hecklers believed redeploying baseball's ultimate insult would extinguish the competitive Rocky fire, they were sorely mistaken.
To discuss the situation, Tommy turned to Jerry, whom he had come to entrust as his moral compass.
They both saw eye to eye that if the players were having fun, they should be spurred on, not held back. After all, wasn't joy in the game what truly mattered?
What's more, Tommy was resolute that his son wouldn't be swayed by critics aiming to pull him down to their level of mediocrity and suppressive conformity. This was a lesson he'd learned the hard way in his own life, one he deeply regretted not grasping earlier. He was committed to ensuring that Tris wouldn't repeat his mistakes.
As the season wore on, his stance only solidified. He gave his son the green light to continue his hot box trick, recognizing its undeniable ability to ignite a rally. "Tris," he'd say, his voice imbued with a knowing chuckle, "I don't know how you do it, but keep doing it."
Tommy's attention was now wholly on his Rockies, allowing them to express themselves, wild and free. And as the victories continued to accumulate, the narrow opinions of defeated coaches and fans receded into insignificance, becoming mere background noise to be dismissed.
His choice to fully embrace the joy in competitive sports awakened the Rocky spirit. He wouldn't weigh his boys down with uninspiring coaching philosophies. No, he infused them with an infectious love for baseball and solidified their joy in playing the game, a fulfillment of his heart's desire from the start.
From that point forward, his Rockies would play with passion and energy, unburdened by the opinions of others.
Seven games past that inglorious season opener, the Rockies stood tall with 7 wins against that single loss, and were perched all alone in first place in the league. But in their shadow lurked their arch-nemesis, the mighty Swaggers, who had surprisingly found a way to lose twice to date, leaving them tied for second at 6 and 2.
The stage was set for a rematch between the league's elite teams; Tommy was bound and determined to have his Rocky troops primed and ready for that battle.
Next week, Chapter Five: "The Soup-Can Drill" . . .
Comments