Thursday, October 4, 2012

Insomnia Diary

Here I go again, another night of where the body is dead tired and the mind not wanting to follow suit.  Perhaps its meant to be.  Things do happen for a reason don't they?  Truth be told, some of the best thought and ideas I've had to date do happen during my insomnia marathons.  Although I have class in the morning, so the sleepy meds better kick in pretty quick.  Speaking of class in the morning, Good Morning Ethics.  I swear if the Prof loses me again the first five minutes, I'm going to pull a Spicoli and have a pizza delivered to class.  I'm not pulling any punches here, I personally hold the Prof accountable.  His job is to teach, mine is to learn from his teaching.  If you instead choose to go off on a 45 minute tangent unrelated to the subject matter, then I feel every right to order a damn pizza.  Heck, might as well enjoy myself to supplement the incurred boredom.  Don't get me wrong here, I give 110% at school.  But if you're gonna stand up and be a windbag, then I'll consider you a waste of space and a complete waste of my time.  Come on, at least tease the intellect a bit.

Another sick twist on this, perhaps its my mind that's being high-maintenance.  Metaphorically speaking, my mind is like having a girlfriend that needs, needs, and then needs some more.  My mind constantly needs attention and needs to be kept busy, it never shuts down.  I seriously tease a meltdown if I don't have a laptop and internet connection when I'm not at the ballpark or spending time with my family.  Slug it a lack of intellectual satisfaction.

Baseball...baseball....baseball  Broken record and I dare not lift the needle, why, because its baseball.....duh.....big red truck.  I swear when it comes to baseball, I'm either "old school" or just an old soul.  Baseball at the Little League level has changed immensely.  Now that my playing days are done, I see the game in a different way.  I see it as a classroom in which a multitude of life's lessons can be learned from it.  I'm very proud to say that I feel I'm more than qualified in being a teacher in that classroom.  I love to Coach, to me its everything.  I Coach because my kids play, but I teach and treat all the players the same.  I don't put "Johnny" above the rest of the team and I certainly don't put my kid on a pedestal and pick his supporting cast.  Its truly awful to see that in Little League.  Then I think to myself, why do I scare people?  Why are people afraid of me?  I'm not there at the ballpark with an agenda and I'm certainly not one to shake establishments.  In the purest form of the phrase, I simply want to Coach.  If you don't like it, then that's fine.  I have no problem passing on my knowledge to my own kids and giving them a better opportunity in which to succeed.  Call me selfish, I really don't care.  Think about it though, you're a hypocrite to think that I'm being selfish by saying that since its those who don't allow me to coach that are truly the ones giving me the forum to better my own kids.  Now I feel like I'm in Rodney Dangerfield's shoes and not getting any respect.  Slug it being an untapped resource.  Do I feel the role should be given to me because I'm Steve Acree?......no.  Do I feel the red carper should be laid out for me?...........no  Do I feel the role should just be handed to me?...........absolutely not.  It does though make me wonder why you have those out there who don't know the game and are there for all the wrong reasons, yet they're qualified to call the shots?

This must be Russian baseball, because it sure doesn't look American
-Coach G

To not allow me to coach is like Mick Jagger telling Keith Richards that he doesn't want to write songs with him anymore.  I know the game and that's all that matters.  There is only one judge and one jury that matters to me when it comes to coaching, and that's my Dad.  He's coached on the biggest stage in Little League.....the Big League World Series.  He's MY judge and MY jury.

It's very bad to steal Jobu's rum.......its very bad.
-Pedro Cerrano, Major League

Are you saying Jesus Christ can't hit a curveball?
-Harris, Major League

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