This is the second part of a two-part story that began last Friday. Thanks for reading.
As the ball continued its descent, it became increasingly obvious that it was destined for me. My dad, recognizing the situation, leaned away, giving me a clear path to catch the ball. My eyes widened and my knees bent as I prepared to make the catch. The ball struck my outstretched hands just as I expected. Now, all I had to do was cradle it into my chest and proudly display my souvenir. However, something went wrong.
As the ball continued its descent, it became increasingly obvious that it was destined for me. My dad, recognizing the situation, leaned away, giving me a clear path to catch the ball. My eyes widened and my knees bent as I prepared to make the catch. The ball struck my outstretched hands just as I expected. Now, all I had to do was cradle it into my chest and proudly display my souvenir. However, something went wrong.
The ball did not strike both hands simultaneously as I had planned. Instead it hit my left hand, bounced off my right hand, hit my chest and then shot into the row in front of me. I reached down frantically, looking for the ball. Suddenly, a gentleman two rows in front displayed the ball high above his head as the crowd acknowledged his accomplishment with a few cheers. A young boy, about 12 years old, turned around and looked at me. He looked genuinely confused. “How did you drop that?” he asked me. I have no idea. I just shook my head, still looking at the hands that had failed me. If there was one thing I could usually count on in life, it was that if someone threw me something, I would catch it. I stood silent, in disbelief. My dad, recognizing my disappointment, put his hand on my shoulder and did what good dads do: He took the blame. “That was my fault, Kev. I was in your way. I should have gotten out of your way.” I forced a smile. “It wasn’t your fault, Dad. I just dropped it.”
Sitting in those green bleachers, the bright sun bearing down on me, I never felt lower. Nothing in my life made sense. Even the things I could always count on, simple things like catching a baseball, were no longer a given. The kid’s words lingered. “How did you drop that?” It was like he was asking me the question I kept asking myself, “What’s wrong with you?” How on earth did I get to this point? More importantly, how was I ever going to get out of this rut? Maybe, this was my new reality. Maybe, I needed to accept the fact that things weren’t going to change, that I no longer had the ability to impact the direction my life was headed. Maybe, the rut was just beginning with no end in sight.
After the game, we returned to the car. My father and his friends sat in the first two rows, and I climbed into the third row where I sat by myself. I was relieved to be alone. The guys began talking and laughing, and I sat quietly in the back. I pulled out my iPod and stared at it. Maybe some music would relax me. Then, I noticed the small icon that said “Notes.” I opened up the application and stared at the blank screen. I sat up straight. Yes, my life was a mess, but that blank screen represented an opportunity. I could hear my old friends speaking the words that always brought me comfort: “This is just a rut. They don’t last forever.” I began to type.
For two hours, I pecked away at the tiny screen. At one point, I heard my father say, “What is Kevin doing back there?” One of the guys replied, “He’s playing on that gadget.” That made me laugh. I was sitting up straight now as my thoughts turned into words on the page. The first line that I wrote read, “I’m in a rut. A big, long rut.” From there I began to dream. I wrote down what my life would look like one year from now. I was specific. In order to right the ship I needed two things to happen.
First, my girls had to be out of daycare and home. Second, for the sake of my kids and my marriage, I needed a new job, one that would allow me to stay home during the day and make enough money in the evenings. I wrote, “My girls will be taken out of daycare. I will start a tutoring business. I will teach struggling readers in the evenings, and my business will be successful. In one year, my business will have grown and will provide the income we need. I will dedicate my free time to finishing Paradise in Front of Me. I will give it the time and energy it deserves.” From there, I continued laying out the life I wanted for my family and me. Somehow, as I wrote, I began to feel in control again. My confidence seemed to be returning slowly as the words poured out onto the page.
About two months after dropping that foul ball, I resigned my job as a teacher. A month after that, I opened Finch Tutoring in the upstairs office of our home. I had one student.
. . . It’s a spectacular May evening at the baseball stadium in Salem, Virginia. The year is 2014, and I am taking in a Salem Red Sox game with my best friend of 35 years, Pete. We are seated down the third base line, about 20 rows up. We are relaxing, drinking a beer, looking at the mountains, and enjoying a lazy spring day. Suddenly, there is the familiar sound of a ball striking a wooden bat. Immediately I turn and yell, “Pete!” I can tell the ball is heading our direction. Pete, relaxing two seats down from me, is looking at the ground. He looks over at me. “What?” I’m standing now. “Pete!” As the ball arcs upward, I’m sure it’s heading right at him. “Oh!” he says, recognizing the situation.
As the ball begins descending, it starts drifting left. It is coming fast, right at me, and I’m in trouble. My full cup of beer is still in my right hand. I should have set it down. There’s no time to think. I reach out my left hand as the ball comes whistling at me. I feel the impact as it hits. My beer splashes and I close my eyes. There’s a brief moment of silence and then a roar from the crowd. I stare in amazement at my left hand which is now holding a baseball. I raise it above my head as the crowd cheers. A man looks up from his seat. “How did you catch that!” I have no idea.
I stand a few seconds after the crowd has returned to watching the game, my two minutes of fame now over. I stand on the warm spring night and smile. I can’t stop looking at the ball. Four years ago, I wrote down a plan. Four years later, I operate a successful tutoring business where I have the privilege of working with about 20 students a week. My book is done and published. My girls never returned to daycare. My life, while neither perfect nor free from challenges, is something for which I am grateful for every day.
Four years ago, I dropped a baseball, and it changed my life. Ruts will continue to come and go, but I have learned that in the lowest times it is important to keep looking ahead. Ruts don’t last forever, and your life is never totally out of your control. If you don’t believe me, there’s a baseball placed in front of me at my desk. It’s staring at me right now. It’s a reminder that in order to achieve your dreams, you need to first believe in them. So, if you’re in a rut, grab your notebook, your phone, your tablet, your laptop, and get to work. Put those goals in writing. Own them. There’s a baseball headed your way, and this time you’re going to catch it.
Sitting in those green bleachers, the bright sun bearing down on me, I never felt lower. Nothing in my life made sense. Even the things I could always count on, simple things like catching a baseball, were no longer a given. The kid’s words lingered. “How did you drop that?” It was like he was asking me the question I kept asking myself, “What’s wrong with you?” How on earth did I get to this point? More importantly, how was I ever going to get out of this rut? Maybe, this was my new reality. Maybe, I needed to accept the fact that things weren’t going to change, that I no longer had the ability to impact the direction my life was headed. Maybe, the rut was just beginning with no end in sight.
After the game, we returned to the car. My father and his friends sat in the first two rows, and I climbed into the third row where I sat by myself. I was relieved to be alone. The guys began talking and laughing, and I sat quietly in the back. I pulled out my iPod and stared at it. Maybe some music would relax me. Then, I noticed the small icon that said “Notes.” I opened up the application and stared at the blank screen. I sat up straight. Yes, my life was a mess, but that blank screen represented an opportunity. I could hear my old friends speaking the words that always brought me comfort: “This is just a rut. They don’t last forever.” I began to type.
For two hours, I pecked away at the tiny screen. At one point, I heard my father say, “What is Kevin doing back there?” One of the guys replied, “He’s playing on that gadget.” That made me laugh. I was sitting up straight now as my thoughts turned into words on the page. The first line that I wrote read, “I’m in a rut. A big, long rut.” From there I began to dream. I wrote down what my life would look like one year from now. I was specific. In order to right the ship I needed two things to happen.
First, my girls had to be out of daycare and home. Second, for the sake of my kids and my marriage, I needed a new job, one that would allow me to stay home during the day and make enough money in the evenings. I wrote, “My girls will be taken out of daycare. I will start a tutoring business. I will teach struggling readers in the evenings, and my business will be successful. In one year, my business will have grown and will provide the income we need. I will dedicate my free time to finishing Paradise in Front of Me. I will give it the time and energy it deserves.” From there, I continued laying out the life I wanted for my family and me. Somehow, as I wrote, I began to feel in control again. My confidence seemed to be returning slowly as the words poured out onto the page.
About two months after dropping that foul ball, I resigned my job as a teacher. A month after that, I opened Finch Tutoring in the upstairs office of our home. I had one student.
. . . It’s a spectacular May evening at the baseball stadium in Salem, Virginia. The year is 2014, and I am taking in a Salem Red Sox game with my best friend of 35 years, Pete. We are seated down the third base line, about 20 rows up. We are relaxing, drinking a beer, looking at the mountains, and enjoying a lazy spring day. Suddenly, there is the familiar sound of a ball striking a wooden bat. Immediately I turn and yell, “Pete!” I can tell the ball is heading our direction. Pete, relaxing two seats down from me, is looking at the ground. He looks over at me. “What?” I’m standing now. “Pete!” As the ball arcs upward, I’m sure it’s heading right at him. “Oh!” he says, recognizing the situation.
As the ball begins descending, it starts drifting left. It is coming fast, right at me, and I’m in trouble. My full cup of beer is still in my right hand. I should have set it down. There’s no time to think. I reach out my left hand as the ball comes whistling at me. I feel the impact as it hits. My beer splashes and I close my eyes. There’s a brief moment of silence and then a roar from the crowd. I stare in amazement at my left hand which is now holding a baseball. I raise it above my head as the crowd cheers. A man looks up from his seat. “How did you catch that!” I have no idea.
I stand a few seconds after the crowd has returned to watching the game, my two minutes of fame now over. I stand on the warm spring night and smile. I can’t stop looking at the ball. Four years ago, I wrote down a plan. Four years later, I operate a successful tutoring business where I have the privilege of working with about 20 students a week. My book is done and published. My girls never returned to daycare. My life, while neither perfect nor free from challenges, is something for which I am grateful for every day.
Four years ago, I dropped a baseball, and it changed my life. Ruts will continue to come and go, but I have learned that in the lowest times it is important to keep looking ahead. Ruts don’t last forever, and your life is never totally out of your control. If you don’t believe me, there’s a baseball placed in front of me at my desk. It’s staring at me right now. It’s a reminder that in order to achieve your dreams, you need to first believe in them. So, if you’re in a rut, grab your notebook, your phone, your tablet, your laptop, and get to work. Put those goals in writing. Own them. There’s a baseball headed your way, and this time you’re going to catch it.