Who wears diamond-tex stained and hole-riddled baseball pants; a black ball cap emblazoned with the letter M and little gold stars; a gold, white, black or red baseball jersey (depending on the day or year) with the word “Mountville” spanning its front?

A Mountville Indian.

All too soon though, youthful arms, legs, hopes and dreams outgrow the proportions of an Indians uniform. Grownup ambitions, interests and realities quickly turn eleven- and twelve-year old Mountville Indians into young men; and Bob and I slowly lose touch with them. 

Sometimes we hear bits and pieces about what a former player has been up to since we last saw him in his Indians uniform.  And no matter where life has taken him, we wonder – did wearing an Indians uniform mean more than just a bunch of extra loads of dirty laundry for game-weary moms and dads? Did something he learned or experienced as an Indian survive as more than just a threadbare memory?

As Bob told the the team last night before the New Era championship game, “Baseball and life are synonymous. You will have failures and successes along the way. But it’s not where you start that matters; it’s where you finish. ”

Some Mountville Indians have gone on to become military captains, state police officers, lawyers, college professors, Olympic swimmers, real estate agents, teachers, businessmen, community leaders, volunteers, Eagle scouts, high school and college athletes, coaches, husbands, and dads.

Congrats Mountville Indians on your well-deserved New Era championship last night! You certainly finished well. Now, go on and finish well in whatever else you may do in your life – just like so many others who also have proudly worn the Mountville Indian uniform.

This weekend is the Manheim (PA) Father’s Day Tournament. I love this tournament! The Indians have participated in it every year since Bob began coaching, and it’s one from which I have many interesting and happy memories.

Like the time a stray ball mysteriously rolled onto the field from the direction where an assistant coach was standing, entering the infield at the most opportune time so as to be a distraction to the other team.

Or when some players’ parents were uncharacteristically hassling the umpire (who really was pretty bad) and Bob threatened to eject the parents if they said one more word (the only time I’ve ever seen him truly angry at a game).

And then there was the time when Bob was coaching third and stuck his hand out to intercept a hard hit foul ball (WHY?), which made impact with his ungloved hand with such force that we had to make an emergency trip to the doctor’s office between games to get his wedding ring cut off his finger.

Another year, we nearly beat a team that eventually went undefeated (39-0) for that season; losing to them by only 3-2. That team held the best season record in the county for several years – until the 2003 Indians shattered it with an unbelievable 51-0 season!

But my favorite memory from the Manheim Tournament happened four years ago. Bob was coaching third when my cell phone suddenly rang. It was the call we had been anxiously awaiting. Our only son had just become a first-time dad! 

Earlier that morning he had called and said, “We’re at the hospital. This thing is goin’ down today!” (I’ll never forget his unusual choice of words as long as I live.) Now it had actually “gone down” – and Bob was at third base completely engrossed in a game, so I couldn’t even let him know that Joshua – our third grandson, fourth grandchild, and potential future baseball player (of course!)  - was now on the family roster.

No worries though. Since I couldn’t contain my joy and excitement, all the Indian parents around me knew what had just “gone down” and collectively screamed at the top of their lungs, “It’s a boy!” Pause in game. Stands erupt on both sides. Players, opposing coaches, umpires applaud. Bob gives the thumbs up. Game resumes. We win. What a great Father’s Day. I love this tournament!

I love competition. Actually, I like to watch it far more than do it. I just don’t have that perpetual competitive fire burning inside me – at least, not like Bob does. I wish I did. Bob loves to compete; to make a game out of even the most mundane tasks. It’s in his DNA – and it drives me crazy sometimes. But, I believe the successes Bob has experienced coaching the Indians over the years, and even successes he’s achieved in the everyday things, have just as much to do with his “life is a game” mindset as they do with his total inability to regard losing as an option. Oh, he accepts losing, after the fact – game over, move on, no regrets (okay, “few” regrets), but never, ever is losing a notion his mind can even entertain DURING a game.

In his book, “The Heart and the Fist, the Education of a Humanitarian, the Making of a Navy SEAL,” Rhodes scholar and Navy SEAL Eric Greitens says that many SEAL candidates quit during some of the least rigorous physical challenges simply because they allow themselves to think about quitting. Once you open that mental door, it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion that you’ll go through it.

I thought a lot about competitive chutzpah, about winning and losing, as I read that book. And, if I look only to my own experiences, I would have to agree with Greitens. I’ve run in five marathons, but only completed three. I could always keep going strong until the moment I let myself think about how good it would feel when I stopped – and shortly thereafter, I almost always did. Bob, on the other hand, ran nine and finished nine marathons, not so much because he was such a stellar runner, but because he absolutely refused to quit.

Over the years, I’ve seen this same phenomenon play itself out time and time again among the Indians players too. It’s not always been the most gifted athletes who have excelled, but it was the ones who wouldn’t, or couldn’t allow themselves to give up.

Easy.  When it’s a trick.

Merriam Webster says both a play and a trick are “acts or maneuvers in a game,” but Webster tacks on to this common definition a caveat for  the word trick, and that is: “to achieve an end by deceptive or fraudulent means; an indiscreet or childish action.” Agreed Merriam.

In 2007, Alex Rodriguez played a “trick” on a Toronto third baseman by yelling “I got it!” as he ran past him. Ball drops. Three runs score. Poor form, Alex.

Recently a team the Mountville Indians competed against attempted a different trick – the infamous hidden ball trick. Equally poor form – but in this case, unsuccessful.

But it IS “legal.”  And so are lots of other things. But does that mean we should do them, or teach kids to do them? And, if the hidden ball trick is legal and such a good idea, why don’t more teams do it? “Because,” according to one veteran umpire with 44 years of experience under his chest protector, “it’s impossible to pull off.  It’s tried by youth managers who don’t know the rules.” (SOURCE: Yahoo Answers) More importantly, it cheapens a great game.

This isn’t about sour grapes. The Indians won that “hidden ball trick game” quite handily. This is about genuine disappointment. Disappointment that the “trick” was tried at all – and in our league; that the opposing coach was overtly proud of it; and on a larger scale, that something that is a “trick” by name and definition is even considered an acceptable “play” by some – just because it’s legal. It’s called a “trick” for a reason, and there’s no place or need for tricks in a game where real, well executed plays and well thought out strategies can, and should, suffice.

Twenty-five years. One thousand games. Immeasurable victories. That’s the inscription prominently engraved in the wooden bat presented to my husband by this year’s team at last night’s game.

It was the occasion of a significant milestone for Bob, the Indians, and the community; the celebration of Bob’s 1,000th game coaching the Mountville Indians.

An assemblage of current and former players, parents of current and former players, friends, youth association leaders, and family gave up what began as a beautiful sunny Sunday evening – one eventually interrupted by a  light rain shower – just to be there; to show their support and share this special time with Bob. (“Thank you,” light showers for arriving at just the right moment, and in just the right amount to only briefly delay the game, create an opportunity for the celebration, and disguise a few happy and proud tears.)

The celebration was perfect! A trophy presented to Bob; a touching tribute written and read in his honor; messages from former players who couldn’t be present; cards bearing hand-written and heart-felt words of thanks and appreciation; a game ball autographed by this year’s players, who clearly thought it was pretty darn awesome to be on the team that reached this 1,000th game mark with Bob; a gift card to a favorite restaurant; and even flowers and a card for the coach’s wife (Thank you very much!) Friends and family all fittingly gathered informally around Bob’s truck to share in the moment, up-close and personal.  And then – the bat, the one that the boys on the team were visibly proud to present to their coach, and he was equally proud to receive.

Yes, it was an absolutely perfect evening; a good time to reflect on the many kinds of victories witnessed and experienced over 25 years of coaching; victories both individual and corporate, public and private, fleeting and enduring, insignificant and immeasurably – immeasurable.

One of my favorite authors is Steven Covey. I like him because his ideas are practical and they can be applied almost universally. In his book “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,” one Covey-ism I especially like is: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response. In those choices lie our growth and our happiness.”

When I first read that quote just a few short months ago, I liked it so much that I highlighted it in bright orange. I couldn’t have known then how soon I would be leaning on that quote to give me strength and encouragement to face a very serious health issue.

Finding out that I had stage three ovarian cancer – the “stimulus” – initially engulfed me in a tsunami of emotion. I was nearly numbed, paralyzed – able to react, but not to respond. In time though, I realized the one thing I could do – no, I needed to do – to help myself was to “choose” how I would respond to a situation that I didn’t expect, couldn’t change, and really didn’t like one bit. So I made the choice to focus on the things within my own control – diet, exercise, rest, attitude etc. – and let go of everything else.

Despite my current health challenges, I’ve made it to quite a few Indians games this season.  I have to say that I’m pretty impressed with this team. These kids have talent. Over the season their baseball skills should grow even more. And, if they’re anything like so many other kids who have worn a Mountville Indians jersey, they’ll also grow in other important ways; ways that will matter far beyond the confines of a baseball diamond.

They’ll learn that things will happen that they don’t expect, can’t change, and really don’t like one bit. But if they’re paying close attention between the situations drills, batting practices, and game days, they’ll also learn that how they respond to those situations is always a choice – their choice. Sometimes it’s the only thing they actually can control. And recognizing that, then choosing well, will make all the difference.

The annual Mountville 12U baseball tournament was held last weekend. I always look forward to this and the other local tournaments, many of which have been scheduled on the same weekends for years and years. They’re almost akin to holidays for me – something I highlight on my calendar and anticipate each year.

Tournaments offer unique opportunities for athletic teams to test their staying power against multiple and sometimes new opponents in a compressed time frame – frequently at new venues. There’s a level of intensity and excitement surrounding tournaments that can’t be found at most single game match-ups.

Over the years, the Indians have traveled from a few miles to several hundred miles to compete in tournaments of all varieties but, for me, the local tournaments have always held an especially appealing allure. Not only do they unite communities and foster enduring friendships, they also often supply the financial lifeblood that helps sustain and support the small organizations that sponsor them.

An increasing number of local tournaments have struggled or ceased to survive as travel all-star teams have grown in numbers. This is true not only for baseball, but also for many other sports. Players often play for both their community team and an “all-star” team. Sadly, many times travel team organizations and their coaches are less invested and interested in the local community and more focused on the development of a son-player, the perceived exposure to “scouts,” and/or the prestige and caliber of competition high-profile tournaments may provide for an aspiring major leaguer.

This seeming conflict of interests is easily resolved though. Local tournaments and travel teams CAN successfully coexist and even thrive. Most player allegiance and commitment conflicts that dual team membership (local and travel team) may create can be managed successfully – a win/win for everyone -  when coaches, parents, players and organizations at both levels understand and are committed to the importance of sustaining  the essential fabric of local athletic organizations. Travel teams that espouse a “community team/league first” philosophy, can be every bit as successful as those who focus exclusively on travel-team. The trick is to schedule travel tournaments on weekends that don’t conflict with the local tournaments.

I’m proud of the Mountville players, parents and coaches for many reasons – but especially because they are a shining example of how this delicate balance can work. Kudos to all of you! And, kudos to both the Mountville Indians and Mountville Phillies for winning their respective sections of this year’s Mountville 12U tournament.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Happy Mother’s Day to all Indian moms – past and present. Thank you for sharing your children with Bob and me for the past 25 years. It has given us great joy  – watching them learn and play the game Bob has always loved, and I have grown to love (really, what choice did I have?).

Our kids, now with kids of their own, were all athletes in various sports. And there was nothing we loved more than watching them compete. Now, our grandkids – and your sons – fill that void. 

We can’t even imagine a life without sports – and certainly not without baseball – not just because we enjoy athletic competition, but because of the unique opportunities and experiences sports provide for kids to develop important life skills; skills they will carry with them far beyond the athletic field – skills that will help them be confident, disciplined, gracious, and resilient adults.

This is why Bob coaches – and why I’m so glad he does.