| General Non-Fiction posted November 4, 2023 |
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I wanted to share a blog I did about values
Seventeen Inches
by T B Botts
Today when I opened my email, I got a forwarded message from my older brother, Mark. He was sending a message to my younger brother, Brett, who has a son who really enjoys baseball. When I saw the title- Seventeen Inches- I wasn't sure what to expect. We all share a good sense of humor, and thought he might be forwarding some off-color joke. As it is though, he sent an article that really hit home with me, and one that I hope will impact you as well, hopefully in a positive way. I don't know the author of this article; I wish I did. He certainly deserves credit for it, and I'm in no way trying to claim it as mine. I just want to pass on something that I think is worth reading, so here it is.
Seventeen Inches
Twenty years ago in Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opreyland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA's convention.
While I was waiting in line with the hotel staff, I heard other, more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend. One name, in particular, kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment- "John Scolinos is here? Oh man, worth every penny of my airfare."
Who is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter: I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948. He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung- a full sized, stark white home plate.
Seriously, I wondered, who is this guy?
After speaking for twenty five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice some of the snickering among some of the coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder where he was going with this, or had he simply forgotten about home plate since he'd gotten on stage. Then finally...
"You're probably all wondering why I'm wearing home plate around my neck," he said, his voice growing irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility. "I may be old, but I'm not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I've learned in my life, what I've learned about home plate in my 78 years." Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. "Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?"
After a pause someone offered, "Seventeen inches?" More of a question than an answer.
"That's right." he said. "How about in Babe Ruth's day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?" Another long pause. "Seventeen inches?" a guess from another reluctant coach.
"That's right," said Scolinos . "Now how many high school coaches do we have in the room?"
Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear. "How wide is home plate in high school baseball?"
"Seventeen inches!" we said in unison.
"Any minor league coaches here? How wide is the plate in pro ball?"...... "Seventeen inches!"
"Right! And in the Major Leagues, how wide is home plate in the Major Leagues?"
"Seventeen inches!"
"SEVENTEEN INCHES!" he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. "And what do you think they do with a Big League pitcher who can't throw the ball over seventeen inches?" Pause. "They send him to Pocatello!" he hollered, drawing raucous laughter. "What they don't do is this: they don't say, 'Ah that's OK Jimmy, if you can't hit a seventeen inch target, we'll make it eighteen inches or nineteen inches. We'll make it twenty inches so you can have a better chance of hitting it. If you can't hit that let us know so we can make it wider still, say twenty-five inches."
Pause. "Coaches... what do you do when your best player shows up late for practice? Or when team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven? What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him?"
The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach's message began to unfold. He turned the plate towards himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. "This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline. We don't teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We just widen the plate!"
Pause. Then to the point at the top of the plate he added an American flag. " This is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?"
Silence. He replaced the flag with a cross. " And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it."
"And the same is true of our government. Our so called representatives make rules for us that don't apply to themselves. They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. We allow them to widen home plate! We see our country falling into a dark abyss while we just watch."
"When they do not meet that standard, and if our schools and churches and government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve, there is but one thing to look forward to...with that, he held the home plate in front of his chest, turned it around and revealed it's dark black backside ... we have dark days ahead!"
His message was clear. Coaches, keep your players- no matter how good- your own children, your churches, your government and most of all yourself at seventeen inches.
I was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curve balls and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable. From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.
Today when I opened my email, I got a forwarded message from my older brother, Mark. He was sending a message to my younger brother, Brett, who has a son who really enjoys baseball. When I saw the title- Seventeen Inches- I wasn't sure what to expect. We all share a good sense of humor, and thought he might be forwarding some off-color joke. As it is though, he sent an article that really hit home with me, and one that I hope will impact you as well, hopefully in a positive way. I don't know the author of this article; I wish I did. He certainly deserves credit for it, and I'm in no way trying to claim it as mine. I just want to pass on something that I think is worth reading, so here it is.
Seventeen Inches
Twenty years ago in Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opreyland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA's convention.
While I was waiting in line with the hotel staff, I heard other, more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend. One name, in particular, kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment- "John Scolinos is here? Oh man, worth every penny of my airfare."
Who is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter: I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948. He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung- a full sized, stark white home plate.
Seriously, I wondered, who is this guy?
After speaking for twenty five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice some of the snickering among some of the coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder where he was going with this, or had he simply forgotten about home plate since he'd gotten on stage. Then finally...
"You're probably all wondering why I'm wearing home plate around my neck," he said, his voice growing irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility. "I may be old, but I'm not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I've learned in my life, what I've learned about home plate in my 78 years." Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. "Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?"
After a pause someone offered, "Seventeen inches?" More of a question than an answer.
"That's right." he said. "How about in Babe Ruth's day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?" Another long pause. "Seventeen inches?" a guess from another reluctant coach.
"That's right," said Scolinos . "Now how many high school coaches do we have in the room?"
Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear. "How wide is home plate in high school baseball?"
"Seventeen inches!" we said in unison.
"Any minor league coaches here? How wide is the plate in pro ball?"...... "Seventeen inches!"
"Right! And in the Major Leagues, how wide is home plate in the Major Leagues?"
"Seventeen inches!"
"SEVENTEEN INCHES!" he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. "And what do you think they do with a Big League pitcher who can't throw the ball over seventeen inches?" Pause. "They send him to Pocatello!" he hollered, drawing raucous laughter. "What they don't do is this: they don't say, 'Ah that's OK Jimmy, if you can't hit a seventeen inch target, we'll make it eighteen inches or nineteen inches. We'll make it twenty inches so you can have a better chance of hitting it. If you can't hit that let us know so we can make it wider still, say twenty-five inches."
Pause. "Coaches... what do you do when your best player shows up late for practice? Or when team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven? What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him?"
The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach's message began to unfold. He turned the plate towards himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. "This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline. We don't teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We just widen the plate!"
Pause. Then to the point at the top of the plate he added an American flag. " This is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?"
Silence. He replaced the flag with a cross. " And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it."
"And the same is true of our government. Our so called representatives make rules for us that don't apply to themselves. They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. We allow them to widen home plate! We see our country falling into a dark abyss while we just watch."
Seventeen Inches
Twenty years ago in Nashville, Tennessee, during the first week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the Opreyland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA's convention.
While I was waiting in line with the hotel staff, I heard other, more veteran coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the weekend. One name, in particular, kept resurfacing, always with the same sentiment- "John Scolinos is here? Oh man, worth every penny of my airfare."
Who is John Scolinos, I wondered. No matter: I was just happy to be there.
In 1996, Coach Scolinos was 78 years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in 1948. He shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing polyester pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate hung- a full sized, stark white home plate.
Seriously, I wondered, who is this guy?
After speaking for twenty five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice some of the snickering among some of the coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder where he was going with this, or had he simply forgotten about home plate since he'd gotten on stage. Then finally...
"You're probably all wondering why I'm wearing home plate around my neck," he said, his voice growing irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility. "I may be old, but I'm not crazy. The reason I stand before you today is to share with you baseball people what I've learned in my life, what I've learned about home plate in my 78 years." Several hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the room. "Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?"
After a pause someone offered, "Seventeen inches?" More of a question than an answer.
"That's right." he said. "How about in Babe Ruth's day? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?" Another long pause. "Seventeen inches?" a guess from another reluctant coach.
"That's right," said Scolinos . "Now how many high school coaches do we have in the room?"
Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear. "How wide is home plate in high school baseball?"
"Seventeen inches!" we said in unison.
"Any minor league coaches here? How wide is the plate in pro ball?"...... "Seventeen inches!"
"Right! And in the Major Leagues, how wide is home plate in the Major Leagues?"
"Seventeen inches!"
"SEVENTEEN INCHES!" he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls. "And what do you think they do with a Big League pitcher who can't throw the ball over seventeen inches?" Pause. "They send him to Pocatello!" he hollered, drawing raucous laughter. "What they don't do is this: they don't say, 'Ah that's OK Jimmy, if you can't hit a seventeen inch target, we'll make it eighteen inches or nineteen inches. We'll make it twenty inches so you can have a better chance of hitting it. If you can't hit that let us know so we can make it wider still, say twenty-five inches."
Pause. "Coaches... what do you do when your best player shows up late for practice? Or when team rules forbid facial hair and a guy shows up unshaven? What if he gets caught drinking? Do we hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him?"
The chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting as the old coach's message began to unfold. He turned the plate towards himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed, complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. "This is the problem in our homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our discipline. We don't teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence for failing to meet standards. We just widen the plate!"
Pause. Then to the point at the top of the plate he added an American flag. " This is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be successful, and to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?"
Silence. He replaced the flag with a cross. " And this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate for themselves! And we allow it."
"And the same is true of our government. Our so called representatives make rules for us that don't apply to themselves. They take bribes from lobbyists and foreign countries. They no longer serve us. We allow them to widen home plate! We see our country falling into a dark abyss while we just watch."
"When they do not meet that standard, and if our schools and churches and government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve, there is but one thing to look forward to...with that, he held the home plate in front of his chest, turned it around and revealed it's dark black backside ... we have dark days ahead!"
His message was clear. Coaches, keep your players- no matter how good- your own children, your churches, your government and most of all yourself at seventeen inches.
I was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curve balls and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable. From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.
I was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about curve balls and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something far more valuable. From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others accountable to that which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and our society continue down an undesirable path.
 Recognized |
|
This is from a blog post I did. I now know who wrote this. His name is Chris Sperry and he's a baseball consultant, and a hell of a writer in my opinion. No doubt Coach Scolinos has long since passed on, but the words he spoke were never needed more than right now. We've lost our way in this country, and it's time to step back on the straight and narrow path before it's too late. I apologize for the length of this post, but felt it needed to be done in one fell swoop.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Artwork by Sgoolsby at FanArtReview.com
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