Last night we went to a high school softball game here in town. For any of you that are from small towns, you know that social life in a little community centers around high school events.
Its bittersweet this year to go to the games. My dad has coached the high school girls' softball team for the past 11 years (and summer teams for a decade before that) but this year, because of his cancer, he wasn't able to be with the team. The sweet comes with the fact that we are at least able to still watch the game together.
Last week, the school booster club recognized my dad for his efforts by naming the softball field after him. He was flattered, honored, and a little embarrassed.
My school spirit was out in full force (by way of my girls).
And the Lord blessed us with the most beautiful evening to watch our Lady Cats move on to the district championship game.
After the dedication of the field last week, my dad received a card from a man who drove the bus for many of the away ball games during my dad's time as coach.
You deserve the honor of this field being named after you. You always dealt with the kids in a manner that encouraged them, instead of knocking them down, as I saw so many other coaches do, during the time I drove the bus. May God Bless You in all you do.
My dad wants to win ballgames, sure. But more importantly, he wants to teach kids how to play the game, always giving each and every player a fair chance. He believes that everyone has potential and never gives up on "his girls." I hope, if he wants to, that he's able to return to the field next year. Love you, Daddy (aka PaPa).
I should also add that my mother is a saint, at least in this regard, for listening to my dad many, many, many nights as he went on (and on) about ERA, batting averages and RBIs, reviewed team blunders, and discussed game plans. The field is yours, too Mom. Thanks for being a faithful fan of Team Randy.