The Fighting Irish
Midgets
Take therefore no thought for the morrow:
for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
--
Matthew 6:34
This week is the
Nebraska state softball tournament, our daughter Eden's fourth trip to The Big
Show. She's a senior centerfielder and clean-up batter. Her team is 27-4,
defending state champions.
Pressure
situation! The team's fortunes may depend on how well Eden and the other
seniors can lead the team . . . keep them loose and having fun.
Meanwhile, we
parents are hiding our purchases of Maalox, Preparation H, Pepto Bismol and
smelling salts. We're feeling the squeeze, but don't want them to.
Maybe we shouldn't
worry. This team oozes personality and fun. They all dressed up like their
coach for Twin Day at school, down to the Mr. Magoo bald wigs. Their "in" jokes
and hand signals have gotten so complicated the CIA couldn't break the code.
We have a coltish
sophomore pitcher who wears her little brother's underwear elastic as a
headband - it's a long story - but is among the state's leaders for throwing
strikeouts and hitting home runs.
We have a catcher
with a Band-Aid on the front of her helmet, her whimsical solution when told by
a peevish ump to cover up the brand-name logo.
There's a lot of
laughing on that bus and in that dugout. They know how to be supportive when
someone's slumping, and how to celebrate success without getting stuck-up.
Three of their losses happened recently, so they're humbled, but more united
than ever. We parents get along. Everybody loves the coach. Most of all, these
girls love each other.
It has been that
rarity in youth sports today: a total delight.
Do they know how
special that is?
Do they realize
how much these memories are going to mean?
I hope not.
Because then they'll play tight. If they can just stay loose, have fun and
practice hard, and keep away from stress and worry, they'll win. I can feel it.
And I was reminded
of the importance of that attitude last week by my favorite copy shop guy,
Reggie. He tells this story:
It seems he played
Midget football in south Texas in the 1950s. These were poor boys, from a rough
neighborhood. They couldn't afford uniforms. But the game against their
arch-rivals was coming up.
Then their coach,
a career Air Force man, called a buddy connected to Notre Dame football. He
told him of the boys' plight . . . and by bus came several duffel bags full of
old Notre Dame uniforms.
Hand-me-downs from
heaven!
There were
enormous football cleats, leggings and jerseys. There were leather helmets and
preposterously wide shoulder pads. Best of all, everything was . . .
. . . GOLD!
They were no
longer poor kids from San Antonio. They were GOLDEN BOYS! The Midget Fighting
Irish!
Actually, they
looked ridiculous. Everything was 'way too big. But they didn't care. They
stuffed newspapers into the shoes, and tried not to trip. They pushed the
helmets back so they could see. And then they gathered for their coach's
pre-game speech.
He was honest:
they may look cool, but they were still going to lose. Get out there, give it
your best and have some fun, but don't be surprised if you lose.
First, there was
silence. Then, they burst out laughing. It struck them as hilarious. Knute
Rockne, he ain't!
They went out on
that field and were definitely the weaker team. But they were still laughing,
and it was contagious. Reggie remembers one dad cupping his hands and yelling
to his son, "You're running the wrong way!" and then falling down on the
sidelines, laughing.
But do you know
what?
They won!
They were loose.
They had fun.
And they won!
Now, I certainly
hope my daughter's team plays up to their potential, with excellence and
error-free ball. I don't want them to look or feel ridiculous.
But I hope they
play with that positive perspective and spirit - with love for the game, and
for each other.
No worries,
ladies.
Stay loose.
Have fun.
Get out there . .
. and play ball! †
