Second Place or First Loser?

There seems to be a recurring theme with my son's baseball teams as of late. While blessed with tremendous talent, dedicated coaches, and supportive parents, this team gets close to the pinnacle of great success, only to falter at the finish line.

While their win/loss record is impressive, and they've beaten many talented teams along the way, in the end, does anyone really care who comes in second? The accolades always fall upon the victors, while the runners up dream of what might have been.

Last season after rolling through their district and state championship tournaments, as 12-year-olds, they fell in the semifinals at the regional tournament in Indianpolis and never made it to the Little League World Series in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. This year again, a squad including most of the same players from last year's team, missed a state championship as 13-year-olds by one run. Most upsetting to me was that in their final game, while the other team kept scratching out runs, our boys wilted in the 90-degree heat and some key players sat out in the late innings to rest. In the end, their opponents won the championship, erasing any sting from two regular season losses to our team.

So, while our boy's accomplishments in baseball set them far above many of their peers, they still have not proven themselves to be champions. What is it that separates a champion from someone who is just really good? What do the boys from Grosse Pointe need to push them to that next level where they will reach the top, rather than simply settle for a pat on the back for a "good effort."

For what it's worth, here's what I think those boys need to be champions.

First, they need to put the interest of the team first. The old cliche "there's no 'I' in team" is a lesson these boys somehow lost. In Grosse Pointe, parents raise their children to be "superstars"--and, unfortunately not every person is going to be a superstar in everything. Especially on a team, success comes when role players play their appointed roles. The ace pitcher has to win every game. The closing pitcher must foil any late inning rallies. The short stop must make every play. The clean up hitter needs to drive in runs. And on, and on. Not every player is going to hit homeruns, or throw no hitters, or even play an important role in every game. However, if a player's job one day is to pinch run, then that pinch runner better not make a mistake on the base paths. The run scored by a pinch runner could be the difference in a game. In a tight baseball game, there are scores of opportunities for every player to make a significant impact on the outcome of the game.

However, if someone is unhappy with their appointed role, even if that role seems minor and unimportant, and fails to give their best effort no matter the situation, the team could lose the game. I've seen far too many pouty boys on this team--and it helps explain their lack of ultimate success.

Second, a successful team is not afraid of adversity. One loss typically doesn't end a season. One injured player should not make that big a difference. One bad inning doesn't mean the game is over.

For boys accustomed to easy victories, adversity sometimes feels terrifying. In the past, the Grosse Pointe team sometimes crumbled upon encountering difficult situations. Errors in the field seemed contagious. And the team morale sunk and could not rebound. While here the boys have shown improvement, they need to develop additional strategies for dealing with bumps in the road. We need a spark plug, a rallying cry, something to help the boys regain their focus, intensity, and confidence when the game seems to be slipping away.

Third, the boys need to develop leadership skills. While strong parents and coaches make a huge difference in the lives of teens, sometimes when the adults overmanage and overcontrol, young people fail to learn how to reach within themselves for the strength to succeed. Ultimately, it's the child who stands at the plate, throws the pitch, and catches the ball. No matter how hard the adults work with the child, the child ultimately must perform. If a teen has not stood up and taken responsibility for his own success and failures, they may not feel fully connected to the dream of winning a championship. After all, who's dream is it anyway? The player? The parent? The coaches? If the players are simply living out the dreams of their parents and coaches, they likely lack the spirit and intensity to be a champion. However, if the goal of winning is something the child wants with all his heart, then maybe he can muster enough passion to truly become a champion.

Make no mistake, I'm proud of the accomplishments of the 13-year-old baseball boys from Grosse Pointe, Michigan. Their record of achievement has been impressive. However, if they want to move beyond impressive, to . . . say, remarkable, then they need to learn how to play as a team, learn how to deal with adversity, and find the passion within themselves.

Next week we go to Battle Creek Michigan to see these boys make a run at a national championship. Personally, I believe, unless these boys think they have the skills, the passion, and the motivation to win this tournament, we should save our money and go to the pool instead. After all, winning may not be everything, but in sports, it's almost everything.

Triathlon Journal

Twenty two years ago something horrible happened to me. And, I tell the story all the time. If you've heard it before from me, sorry.

I was living in Chicago with my twin brother Brian. At the time we were into fitness. My brother and I ran 5K and 10K races many weekends--which gave me a pretty impressive T-Shirt collection.

That summer (1988) I decided to take my fitness goals to a whole new level and run a triathlon. At the time Bud Light beer sponsored a series of these events across the county and I signed up for the event in Chicago.

For two months I trained--running three times a week, riding my bicycle, and swimming laps in the local pool. I was not on any specific training plan for triathlons, but I was in great shape.

The day of the race was during a serious heatwave. Even though the event was held in downtown Chicago near Lake Michigan, at 8:00 a.m., it was already 85 degrees, sun blazing, and the temperature was rising. While most participants seemed well prepared for the event, wearing the latest exercise gear and with new, expensive bicycles, I felt completely clueless. I was wearing an old T-shirt, well-traveled running shoes and cotton gym shorts. My bike was a beat up Schwinn Continental.

A quarter of a mile from the finish line that day I swooned. Not just passed out, I had a full-fledged heat stroke, which meant I was carted off in an ambulance and pumped up with IV fluids until I was well enough to go home. While in the ambulance I remember praying out loud, believing I had suffered a heart attack, "God, please let me live and I promise I'll NEVER do anything this stupid again."

Well I lived, and that was the end of my competitive running career. Never another road race, triathlon, nothing. After all, I had made a promise to God and I quit racing cold turkey.

Through the years I've been rethinking those rash words uttered in the ambulance. Perhaps since I was under the false assumption I had suffered a heart attack, maybe my God would forget the triathlon promise. Also, in a true lawyer fashion, I thought of a hundred loopholes to my promise. Loopholes like: what did I really mean when I said, "nothing this stupid again."? Running a triathlon when it's nearly 90+ degrees? Yeah that's pretty stupid. Or, how about running with the wrong gear? Yeah, that's pretty stupid, too. So, if the weather was better, and I was better prepared, there should be no problem with the man upstairs if I were to try triathlons again . . . .

Fast forward twenty-two years. My daughter Lonelli has been on a personal mission to re-invent herself this year. One of the key components in this transformation has been an impressive training program with the goal of running a triathlon in August in Chicago. Eerily, the dates, course and distances are almost identical to the race twenty-two years ago where my competitive running career screeched to a halt. This summer, as part of her tune up for Chicago, Lonelli has participated in a number of mini-triathlons, which are called Sprints. In a sprint, a contestant swims, bikes, and runs, but the distances are roughly half the distances of a regular triathlon.

Clarisa and I went with Lonelli to her first Sprint a few weeks ago. The course was in a beautiful state park fifty miles north of Detroit. The day was perfect for a race, slightly overcast (no blazing sun) and seventy-five degrees. The course had a few hills, but nothing too challenging. The swim was held in a small lake.

For her first time racing, Lonelli did exceptionally well. And we all enjoyed the atmosphere at the event, lots of upbeat, fitness-oriented people encouraging one another along with their families and supporters. I had forgotten how fun these competitions can be. That day Lonelli suggested I do one of these tune up events with her--and my mind began to work.

In the six months since I left American Laser Centers, I've been on my own personal re-invention program, for which weight loss and improved fitness have been key components. And, a Sprint triathlon was definitely within my abilities.

When the summer began, I replaced running on the treadmill with daily, morning lap swims at the Grosse Pointe City pool. And in three weeks of training I worked my way up to a distance that was farther than the swimming portion of a Sprint. So I knew I could do the swim--I did it every day! And, the run was no problem. I exceeded the Sprint running distance at least three times a week during my regular workouts.

But, despite my optimism, three nagging thoughts dampened my enthusiasm. First, my bike is an ancient Schwinn Continental with a heavy steel frame and a headlight attached to the front. I bought it a few years ago for ten dollars at a second-hand shop as a joke--it reminded me of my old racing bike in Chicago! It was really not suitable for a race. Second, while I was capable of completing the triathlon components one event at a time, I had not combined any two of the events during the same workout since that ill-fated day twenty-two years ago. I needed to step up my training. And third, of course, there was the little matter of my promise to God . . . .

Without taking too much time to reflect or agonize over my concerns, I ended up throwing caution to the wind and signed up for a Sprint distance triathlon held on Belle Isle, which is a Detroit city park in the middle of the Detroit River. I decided my bike would have to work; I'd do some additional training; and, God would definitely understand. After all, I was doing this to support Lonelli!

So yesterday, at 7:30 a.m., I found myself standing in the Detroit River ready to begin my first triathlon in more than two decades. This time my gear was better--I was wearing a nice-knee length speedo bathing suit, which looked like every other contestant's suit. Further, I knew my shoes, shorts and shirt also were appropriate for the race. But, that old bike . . . .

I knew the swim would be a challenge, not so much because of the distance, but because of the conditions. Unlike swimming laps in lanes in a pool, an open water swim is far more difficult. Imagine what it's like with more than 100 men flailing away all around you, kicking, grabbing and trying to find some clear space to swim. Further, besides the crush of bodies, I experienced an adreneline rush at the sound of the opening horn. Within 100 meters I found myself hyperventilating. I almost panicked and quit the race. Fortunately, I was able to say a prayer, focus on my strokes, and I calmed down.

In the end, the swim went fine. And I felt good leaving the water and trotting to the transition area where I put on some shorts, my shirt, sunglasses, shoes and socks and hopped on my bike. All day I joked that I had the worst bike in the competition--which, in actuality was a true statement! The course was two laps around the island, which I completed. Since I had not trained a lot for biking, my strategy was simply to stick with a decent pace and save my legs for the run. I got passed A LOT during the bike portion. But, it was a beautiful day and I really enjoyed the 20 kilometers, it just took me forever to finish!

I felt surprisingly strong for my 5 kilometer run. As the course progressed, rather than slowing down, I sped up--and I found myself passing lots of competitors, many who were younger than me. I even had a nice little kick at the end of the course and crossed the finish line feeling pretty good.

Amazingly, in my first completed triathlon, I finished fourth in my age group (men between the ages of 45 and 49). I was ecstatic. When the final results were posted, however, I found out I was fourth out of a group of six competitors, which was less impressive. However, my run was the fastest speed for any man over 45 by more than two minutes. My swim, while not among the fastest times, was middle-of-the pack. But, the bike. . . . The man who won my age group swam slightly faster than me, ran a lot slower than me, but finished the bike portion TWELVE MINUTES ahead of me. I finished dead last in the bike. I may have been the slowest male biker in the competition!

When I picked up my bike as we were getting ready to leave, a group of people came up to me and said, "We wanted to see who rode this bike."

"Why?" I asked. "This is the worst bike here."

"Yeah," said one in the group, "you rode a 'ton speed.'"

"I know," I responded. "Feel how heavy this puppy is." The young man was amazed a racing bike weighed so much.

The first person spoke again. "We wanted to tell you that this bike is a collector's item. Have you ever tried to sell it? We were concerned someone might try to grab this bike and we wanted to be sure the owner claimed it." That was funny. Thousand dollar bikes all around and they were concerned someone might take my second-hand Schwinn!

Now my mind is racing. If I improve by bike time by six or seven minutes I can win won of these competitions. I need to sign up for another event. If I sell the Schwinn, I can pay for a decent racer!

Is this a new obsession? We'll see.