Crosses in the Dirt

Believe it or not, coaches who compete against each other can be friends. A handful of commentators, fans, and reporters don’t like that. Takes the edge off the game, they say. Shows weakness, say others. Makes you hesitant to drive the nail in the coffin when you get the chance, claim fanatics.

My job is to coach a college baseball team. I compete against other coaches three or four days a week during the spring season. Only when provoked do I develop any sort of dislike for an opposing coach. It has happened during my career, but it is the exception rather than the rule.

I don’t think people on the outside looking in realize how much respect we coaches have for each other. We face the same daily challenges and frustrations. We struggle to maintain a proper balance between our coaching responsibilities and our family lives. We sometimes question how much difference we’re making in our players’ lives.

I stood and talked to one of my competitors during a long rain delay recently. He’s a great guy and a Christian brother who is going through a nasty divorce. He asked me to pray for him and I assured him I would. When play resumed, we tried to kill each other- within the rules, of course.

I wear the number 7 on my jersey. I have since I was a kid. Some say it is a Biblical number. I like that but I must admit the Scriptural significance was lost on me as a child when my attachment to the number 7 began.

During every baseball game I coach, I scratch a cross in the dirt near the third base coaching box to remind myself to keep things in perspective. I’m not trying to draw attention but I’ve had umpires, opposing third basemen, and rival coaches ask me about my crosses.

Some call it superstition, one umpire called it voodoo, and some opponents wipe it out each inning. I replace it every inning anyway but I guess they think I might be getting an edge. My favorite memory occurred a few years back when a fellow coach scratched two smaller crosses on each side of mine, an obvious reference to Calvary.

One particular coaching friend of mine has noticed my crosses for years. But only recently did I learn something about him. I know he is a Christian based on our past conversations, but I never knew why he wore number 77 on his back before this season.

His reasoning is truly inspirational. He wears 77 to remind his players that no matter what they do, he will forgive them as Jesus taught him to forgive. Not just seven times, but seventy times seven. “The one thing they’ll always know is that I love them unconditionally,” he says.

This coach is not soft on misconduct. He consistently punishes his players for discipline violations, even removing two of his players from the team this year. Their program has some disadvantages yet they are highly competitive in their conference. My friend is not only an effective coach, he is making a difference in people’s lives.

And guess what? Even though we coach our buns off against each other, we still respect and admire one another. Confusing to some, refreshing to others. It’s all a matter of perspective.