Monday, December 21, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
T, C, & GWH: MatCoaPSS CHAPTER # 4
CHAPTER 4 Opening Night
There are certain memories that stay with you long after they've taken place. They hang around like a clingy girlfriend - always there, just waiting for something better to come along and replace them. Opening Night of my first J's season as manager is one of these memories. There was an electric current in the air and the smell of beer and stale urine in the dugout.
I remember driving to the stadium hours before the game and was surprised that two players were already there: the brothers Quinn. Darren told me that he needed at least 1,000 pitches to get warm and Kevin explained that he liked to get the feel of the grass he'd be diving on to make catches in left field.
I had experienced many Opening Nights in my career, but this was certain to be the most special. I spent weeks rehearsing my pre-game pep talk. I paced endlessly in front of the mirror, making countless minor changes to what I would say.
Moments before the game, I called the team to the dugout to deliver my masterpiece. Brett was the last to make it over, as he was on the phone. Just as I was opening my mouth to speak, he hit the speaker button on his phone and the voice of Paul Farinacci, half a world away, addressed the team. He gave a passionate speech consisting of the following themes: World War II, Asians, the J's history against the Shizz, and the Ohio State fight song (in that order).
I felt like Lieutenant Dan, robbed of my chance to be a hero and left crippled in the wake of another's decision to intervene. With a single phone call, Paul Farinacci had created a house divided. The ripple effect of this action would be felt for two years, before eventually boiling over into an off-season controversy that would end my career.
We took the field and delivered one of the most impressive offensive performances in J's history, with all 10 players having at least two hits, resulting in 17 runs. It was an easy victory, 17-7, and I was immensely proud to win my first game out.
After the game I noticed Kevin Quinn sitting alone in the dugout, tears in his eyes. When I asked him what was wrong he said, "I'm conflicted coach. Beating up on an Asian team like that, with none of their women in the stands to see me hit two home runs and drive in 6. Such a waste. I just don't know. Maybe I watched too much Band of Brothers last night."
I reassured him by letting him know that we'd play them two more times that year, leaving him plenty of chances to impress their Asian girlfriends. As I was packing up my things, I happened to notice Lee Rosen and Sean Djernes whispering to each other in a dark corner of the parking lot. I figured Sean was simply asking for some gambling advice regarding Kansas and the over under on total assists in the first four minutes of the second half. I distinctly remember noticing that Sean was skinny, his 150 pound frame shivering in the the chilly Santa Monica night air. Looking back on what this conversation would lead to, I wish I had decided right then and there to walk over and see what they were really talking about.
As I walked to my car, I happened to overhear Brett Spaulding, who was on the phone again, one of his dozen daily calls to Italy. He was saying, "Great speech Paul. You really inspired the guys tonight, got us motivated. We just wanted to win one for you and can't wait for you to get back."
Dejected, I got into my car (a 2000 Camry with an as-yet to be explained sticky gas pedal) and headed home. We had one my first game as manager, but I couldn't help but feel that something had been lost.
I remember driving to the stadium hours before the game and was surprised that two players were already there: the brothers Quinn. Darren told me that he needed at least 1,000 pitches to get warm and Kevin explained that he liked to get the feel of the grass he'd be diving on to make catches in left field.
I had experienced many Opening Nights in my career, but this was certain to be the most special. I spent weeks rehearsing my pre-game pep talk. I paced endlessly in front of the mirror, making countless minor changes to what I would say.
Moments before the game, I called the team to the dugout to deliver my masterpiece. Brett was the last to make it over, as he was on the phone. Just as I was opening my mouth to speak, he hit the speaker button on his phone and the voice of Paul Farinacci, half a world away, addressed the team. He gave a passionate speech consisting of the following themes: World War II, Asians, the J's history against the Shizz, and the Ohio State fight song (in that order).
I felt like Lieutenant Dan, robbed of my chance to be a hero and left crippled in the wake of another's decision to intervene. With a single phone call, Paul Farinacci had created a house divided. The ripple effect of this action would be felt for two years, before eventually boiling over into an off-season controversy that would end my career.
We took the field and delivered one of the most impressive offensive performances in J's history, with all 10 players having at least two hits, resulting in 17 runs. It was an easy victory, 17-7, and I was immensely proud to win my first game out.
After the game I noticed Kevin Quinn sitting alone in the dugout, tears in his eyes. When I asked him what was wrong he said, "I'm conflicted coach. Beating up on an Asian team like that, with none of their women in the stands to see me hit two home runs and drive in 6. Such a waste. I just don't know. Maybe I watched too much Band of Brothers last night."
I reassured him by letting him know that we'd play them two more times that year, leaving him plenty of chances to impress their Asian girlfriends. As I was packing up my things, I happened to notice Lee Rosen and Sean Djernes whispering to each other in a dark corner of the parking lot. I figured Sean was simply asking for some gambling advice regarding Kansas and the over under on total assists in the first four minutes of the second half. I distinctly remember noticing that Sean was skinny, his 150 pound frame shivering in the the chilly Santa Monica night air. Looking back on what this conversation would lead to, I wish I had decided right then and there to walk over and see what they were really talking about.
As I walked to my car, I happened to overhear Brett Spaulding, who was on the phone again, one of his dozen daily calls to Italy. He was saying, "Great speech Paul. You really inspired the guys tonight, got us motivated. We just wanted to win one for you and can't wait for you to get back."
Dejected, I got into my car (a 2000 Camry with an as-yet to be explained sticky gas pedal) and headed home. We had one my first game as manager, but I couldn't help but feel that something had been lost.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
T, C, & GWH: MatCoaPSS CHAPTER # 3
CHAPTER 3
Spring Traning
The gap between accepting the job and spring training was a mere 3 days. Always thinking ahead, Mr. Djernes wanted to make sure that I had all the time I needed to prepare. I wasn't worried - the level of training that the J's players did on their own in the off season was the stuff of legend. I didn't even bother calling anyone on the team, as I assumed that this was a team that would prefer a "hands-off" approach, a team of professionals. In retrospect, this was probably the biggest mistake of my coaching career and admittedly it was the first of many I would make while managing the J's.
From the start, Spring Training was a nightmare. Every manager, wants to make a good impression the first time he speaks to his new team. I had prepared what I felt was a great pep talk to make that impression. There was only one problem: although practice was scheduled to begin at 10 AM, the only player who had arrived by 1 PM was Jon Aronson. To this day, I'm certain he had no idea that Spring Training had even started. He told me that he was there to deal with a "customer" in the parking lot and that all of his "best business" was done over by the dumpsters.
Several hours later, a few players started rolling in. Coincidentally, paychecks for the first month of the season were available starting that afternoon. Figuring this was as good a chance as any, I gathered them up and began to speak, "Gentlemen. I know that there's a lot of tradition here. You've had some incredible success in the past and I plan to extend that legacy. But it's gonna take work. A lot of hard work. Games in October are won and lost on the work done April. So let's..."
Third Basemen Sean Djernes had raised his hand, "This all sounds great, but who are you?"
I could see by the look on everyone else's face (by everyone I mean Lee Rosen and Brett Spaulding, as they were the only other two players there) that they were wondering the same thing. I explained that I was the new manager of the team. This was greeted by more blank stares.
Rosen broke the silence, "But you're not Paul."
Djernes chimed in, "Yeah, Paul's the coach. Speaking of which, where is he?"
Spaulding answered, "He's in Italy. He'll be back in six months, 27 days, and 8 hours. This guy is the coach this season, we got emails about it last week."
Dejected, I called Mr. Djernes. He assured me that he would contact the team and that we would restart spring training the following week. I went home, collected myself, and set up a new game plan. I was determined to make this work. An extra week could actually help, I told myself. I would soon learn how wrong I was.
The trials and tribulations associated with Spring Training are too many to count. But some of the issues that arose over that month of preparation still bother me today. For starters, Michael Reiss told me that he didn't have to practice because Paul Farinacci wasn't practicing. When I asked what that had to do with anything he responded, "Anything Paul can do, I can do better. If he thinks he doesn't have to practice, I'll show him that I can skip practice better than he can." I explained that he wasn't practicing because he was playing baseball in Italy. I immediately regretted doing so because I had to spend the next 3 hours convincing him not to hop on a plane out to Italy to join a team in the same league.
With just two days remaining before the start of the season, Eric Snow was still nowhere to be found. It was not until I received security tapes from the Bellagio in Las Vegas that I knew where he was. Apparently, he had been in the poker room there for 17 days straight. They informed me that he was on his way back to Los Angeles after being kicked out of their casino for "Jackson-slapping" other players at his table.
And these were just the off the field issues I had to deal with. There were also a multitude of actual softball issues that required my attention. Sean Djernes was having trouble throwing the ball from third to first, insisting that with his speed it was more efficient for him to run to first to get outs. Kevin Quinn consistently slowed down on fly balls so that he could dive to catch them as he was convinced that defensive plays would be the deciding factor in this year's MVP race. Lee Rosen refused to hit the ball anywhere but over the shortstop's head.
Last but not least, Darren Quinn came into camp with 17 different pitches. He had his standard pitch, a high arcer, and a change up, each pitch with its own unique nickname. I kept trying to simplify his approach but he repeatedly told me, "Score ten runs and I guarantee victory. If we lose, it will never be because of my pitching, only because of the lack of runs scored. Remember that. So leave me alone, and let me do my job. Also, I have a list of ten items that I think could really make the rest of the team better, let's talk after practice."
From the start, Spring Training was a nightmare. Every manager, wants to make a good impression the first time he speaks to his new team. I had prepared what I felt was a great pep talk to make that impression. There was only one problem: although practice was scheduled to begin at 10 AM, the only player who had arrived by 1 PM was Jon Aronson. To this day, I'm certain he had no idea that Spring Training had even started. He told me that he was there to deal with a "customer" in the parking lot and that all of his "best business" was done over by the dumpsters.
Several hours later, a few players started rolling in. Coincidentally, paychecks for the first month of the season were available starting that afternoon. Figuring this was as good a chance as any, I gathered them up and began to speak, "Gentlemen. I know that there's a lot of tradition here. You've had some incredible success in the past and I plan to extend that legacy. But it's gonna take work. A lot of hard work. Games in October are won and lost on the work done April. So let's..."
Third Basemen Sean Djernes had raised his hand, "This all sounds great, but who are you?"
I could see by the look on everyone else's face (by everyone I mean Lee Rosen and Brett Spaulding, as they were the only other two players there) that they were wondering the same thing. I explained that I was the new manager of the team. This was greeted by more blank stares.
Rosen broke the silence, "But you're not Paul."
Djernes chimed in, "Yeah, Paul's the coach. Speaking of which, where is he?"
Spaulding answered, "He's in Italy. He'll be back in six months, 27 days, and 8 hours. This guy is the coach this season, we got emails about it last week."
Dejected, I called Mr. Djernes. He assured me that he would contact the team and that we would restart spring training the following week. I went home, collected myself, and set up a new game plan. I was determined to make this work. An extra week could actually help, I told myself. I would soon learn how wrong I was.
The trials and tribulations associated with Spring Training are too many to count. But some of the issues that arose over that month of preparation still bother me today. For starters, Michael Reiss told me that he didn't have to practice because Paul Farinacci wasn't practicing. When I asked what that had to do with anything he responded, "Anything Paul can do, I can do better. If he thinks he doesn't have to practice, I'll show him that I can skip practice better than he can." I explained that he wasn't practicing because he was playing baseball in Italy. I immediately regretted doing so because I had to spend the next 3 hours convincing him not to hop on a plane out to Italy to join a team in the same league.
With just two days remaining before the start of the season, Eric Snow was still nowhere to be found. It was not until I received security tapes from the Bellagio in Las Vegas that I knew where he was. Apparently, he had been in the poker room there for 17 days straight. They informed me that he was on his way back to Los Angeles after being kicked out of their casino for "Jackson-slapping" other players at his table.
And these were just the off the field issues I had to deal with. There were also a multitude of actual softball issues that required my attention. Sean Djernes was having trouble throwing the ball from third to first, insisting that with his speed it was more efficient for him to run to first to get outs. Kevin Quinn consistently slowed down on fly balls so that he could dive to catch them as he was convinced that defensive plays would be the deciding factor in this year's MVP race. Lee Rosen refused to hit the ball anywhere but over the shortstop's head.
Last but not least, Darren Quinn came into camp with 17 different pitches. He had his standard pitch, a high arcer, and a change up, each pitch with its own unique nickname. I kept trying to simplify his approach but he repeatedly told me, "Score ten runs and I guarantee victory. If we lose, it will never be because of my pitching, only because of the lack of runs scored. Remember that. So leave me alone, and let me do my job. Also, I have a list of ten items that I think could really make the rest of the team better, let's talk after practice."
Despite all of this, I was optimistic about the upcoming season. Even with all of their problems, the J's had an abundance of talent. If I could only find a way to keep them motivated (or in some cases out of jail or simply alive), I knew we could win games. Conflict and controversy just seemed to be the norm for this clubhouse. I would soon learn that not only was the team okay with this kind of atmosphere, it actually thrived on it.
Monday, October 26, 2009
T,C, & GWH: MatCoaPSS
CHAPTER 2
JUST A SMALL TOWN BOY
JUST A SMALL TOWN BOY
The bus ride took 12 days (3 breakdowns, 4 flat tires, and 1 FBI seizure of the bus due to the fact that the driver was part of a drug sting), but to me it felt like 12 minutes. Stepping off the bus, I realized that I was in a foreign land. Santa Monica was full of girls in bikinis, college students, and hairy, sweaty, homeless men. Clearly I was a long way from home.
Having very little money to my name, and not knowing anything about where I was, I took the first apartment I could get. The place was filthy and I had 4 roommates (it was a modest 1 bedroom), but I knew that soon enough, making the money Ryan Djernes was sure to offer me, I'd be living in the lap of luxury. I considered myself lucky, several of my roommates happened to know the bus driver who had driven me out to Santa Monica. I was amongst friends. Unfortunately, what few possessions I did have seemed to be disappearing quickly. My roommates told me that Santa Monica was a high crime neighborhood and to be more careful with my stuff.
Within a week of arriving, it was time to meet with the Godfather himself, Mr. Ryan Djernes. For years I had heard comparisons between him, Al Davis, and Donald Sterling, so I knew that he was one of the greatest owners in the history of sports. When I first walked into his office, he had no recollection of ever calling me, and there were boxes and boxes of Purina Puppy Chow scattered all over the office.
With a franchise record of 13-23, it was understandable that he forgot. A man who's experienced that kind of success can't be expected to remember everything. I was just honored to be in the same room with the guy (even though it reeked of dog food). He explained that Purina was a side project of his and that nothing would ever come between him and his beloved J's.
He got right down to business and offered me a 1 year contract for five dollars a game and explained that all contracts were on a per-game basis because no one had ever coached for him for more than a year (the fault was always with the coaches, not ownership or the players themselves). I quickly did the math in my head and realized that this salary would be enough to live at my apartment for 3 years (thanks to Santa Monica Rent Control policies).
After signing in blood, another of Mr. Djernes' rules, he quickly explained the ground rules about how to treat his players. He told me, "Now I know you're just a small town boy, but this is the big leagues now. We average anywhere from 1 to 2 fans a night, and it can get pretty loud out there. Don't let the crowd get in your head. Follow your instincts, unless you disagree with me, then follow my instincts instead."
This all seemed simple enough. He then handed me the official roster, with a short note on each of the players. He said he knew his players better than anyone else and to always look to this sheet to be reminded of their personalities. I've never shared this with anyone, but have published it below:
Sean Djernes - Lack of Competitive Drive, Passive Aggressive
Michael J. Reiss - Me First Attitude, Should NEVER Win the Coach's Award
Lee Rosen - Steroid Addiction, Gambling Problem
Jon Aronson - Prostitution Addiction, Unnatural Love for Short Shorts
Darren Quinn - Dirty Texting Addiction, Unnatural Love for Dirty Texts
Brett Spaulding - Jersey Burner, Unnatural Love for Paul Farinacci, Jr.
Clint Jackson - Prostitution Addiction, Charged with Several Petifile Crimes
Eric Snow - Great Hustler, Serious Drinking Problem
Kevin Quinn - Sweet Lefty Stroke, Unnatural Love for Asian Women
Paul Farinacci, Jr. - Drinking Problem, Gambling Problem, Injury Prone
Jason Lepore - Pussy, Lucky If He Makes Through One Year Working for Me
I couldn't figure out why he left my name on the list, but I'm pretty sure it was simply a motivational tool. My one concern was with Paul Farinacci, a player who I knew was immensely talented but had the reputation of being cancerous in the clubhouse. As the team's former manager, I was reluctant to keep him on the squad for fear of dividing the clubhouse. Mr. Djernes told me, "He is a great player. Get over it."
Oh well, I though, may as well make the best of it. So I walked out of his office energized, ready to take the J's to a new level of success.
Having very little money to my name, and not knowing anything about where I was, I took the first apartment I could get. The place was filthy and I had 4 roommates (it was a modest 1 bedroom), but I knew that soon enough, making the money Ryan Djernes was sure to offer me, I'd be living in the lap of luxury. I considered myself lucky, several of my roommates happened to know the bus driver who had driven me out to Santa Monica. I was amongst friends. Unfortunately, what few possessions I did have seemed to be disappearing quickly. My roommates told me that Santa Monica was a high crime neighborhood and to be more careful with my stuff.
Within a week of arriving, it was time to meet with the Godfather himself, Mr. Ryan Djernes. For years I had heard comparisons between him, Al Davis, and Donald Sterling, so I knew that he was one of the greatest owners in the history of sports. When I first walked into his office, he had no recollection of ever calling me, and there were boxes and boxes of Purina Puppy Chow scattered all over the office.
With a franchise record of 13-23, it was understandable that he forgot. A man who's experienced that kind of success can't be expected to remember everything. I was just honored to be in the same room with the guy (even though it reeked of dog food). He explained that Purina was a side project of his and that nothing would ever come between him and his beloved J's.
He got right down to business and offered me a 1 year contract for five dollars a game and explained that all contracts were on a per-game basis because no one had ever coached for him for more than a year (the fault was always with the coaches, not ownership or the players themselves). I quickly did the math in my head and realized that this salary would be enough to live at my apartment for 3 years (thanks to Santa Monica Rent Control policies).
After signing in blood, another of Mr. Djernes' rules, he quickly explained the ground rules about how to treat his players. He told me, "Now I know you're just a small town boy, but this is the big leagues now. We average anywhere from 1 to 2 fans a night, and it can get pretty loud out there. Don't let the crowd get in your head. Follow your instincts, unless you disagree with me, then follow my instincts instead."
This all seemed simple enough. He then handed me the official roster, with a short note on each of the players. He said he knew his players better than anyone else and to always look to this sheet to be reminded of their personalities. I've never shared this with anyone, but have published it below:
Sean Djernes - Lack of Competitive Drive, Passive Aggressive
Michael J. Reiss - Me First Attitude, Should NEVER Win the Coach's Award
Lee Rosen - Steroid Addiction, Gambling Problem
Jon Aronson - Prostitution Addiction, Unnatural Love for Short Shorts
Darren Quinn - Dirty Texting Addiction, Unnatural Love for Dirty Texts
Brett Spaulding - Jersey Burner, Unnatural Love for Paul Farinacci, Jr.
Clint Jackson - Prostitution Addiction, Charged with Several Petifile Crimes
Eric Snow - Great Hustler, Serious Drinking Problem
Kevin Quinn - Sweet Lefty Stroke, Unnatural Love for Asian Women
Paul Farinacci, Jr. - Drinking Problem, Gambling Problem, Injury Prone
Jason Lepore - Pussy, Lucky If He Makes Through One Year Working for Me
I couldn't figure out why he left my name on the list, but I'm pretty sure it was simply a motivational tool. My one concern was with Paul Farinacci, a player who I knew was immensely talented but had the reputation of being cancerous in the clubhouse. As the team's former manager, I was reluctant to keep him on the squad for fear of dividing the clubhouse. Mr. Djernes told me, "He is a great player. Get over it."
Oh well, I though, may as well make the best of it. So I walked out of his office energized, ready to take the J's to a new level of success.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Paul Farinacci Carrer Stats Compared to Team Carrer Stats
I will try to get as many of these out as I can. Click on the picture to see the full size.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Winter league fate to be decided at 1pm today, 10/21
Stay tuned J's, the league posts this season's schedule today at 1pm on their website, found at:
http://www01.smgov.net/comm_progs/community_sports/Softball.htm
Best case scenario: J's get into any league, wear their LA City Champions shirt for every pre-game, bring the trophy into the dugout to show case, win their first SM league title, and find a new drinking game for 2010. All is happy.
Worst case scenario: J's don't get in. The curse of Lepore continues, and a Missing Person's report is filed for said Lepore.
http://www01.smgov.net/comm_progs/community_sports/Softball.htm
Best case scenario: J's get into any league, wear their LA City Champions shirt for every pre-game, bring the trophy into the dugout to show case, win their first SM league title, and find a new drinking game for 2010. All is happy.
Worst case scenario: J's don't get in. The curse of Lepore continues, and a Missing Person's report is filed for said Lepore.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tits, Clits, and Game Winnings Hits: Managing at the Center of a Protein Shake Storm
As you all know, I have been a close friend of Manager Jason Lepore for many years now. Although I've never allowed it to get in the way of objectively reporting on the team he managed for two years, I must admit that I hurt with him when it was recently announced that he would not be returning to manage the team this year. When I spoke with him on the phone after the announcement I could hear him holding back the tears. And so I asked if there was anything I could do. Did he want blog space to make an official announcement? Did he need some cash to make ends meet while he got back on his feet? Did he want to try some exotic drugs and call up a few South Asian hookers to feel better?
He thanked me for the offer but kindly refused. Roughly a month later, he called me back to say there was something I could do for him (I was in the middle of the third activity I offered him in our last conversation). He asked that I publish the chapters of his soon to be released book, the likes of which hasn't been seen since Jim Bouton's Ball Four.
I couldn't say yes fast enough. And so, without further ado, I present Chapter 1 of Tits, Clits, and Game Winning Hits: Managing at the Center of a Protein Shake Storm below.
He thanked me for the offer but kindly refused. Roughly a month later, he called me back to say there was something I could do for him (I was in the middle of the third activity I offered him in our last conversation). He asked that I publish the chapters of his soon to be released book, the likes of which hasn't been seen since Jim Bouton's Ball Four.
I couldn't say yes fast enough. And so, without further ado, I present Chapter 1 of Tits, Clits, and Game Winning Hits: Managing at the Center of a Protein Shake Storm below.
CHAPTER 1
A DREAM COME TRUE
A DREAM COME TRUE
Most people don't grow up wanting to become a coach. They'd rather play. It's simple, really. Most of us would rather be rich and famous instead of standing on the sidelines shouting directions to the rich and famous. But since the age of 8, when my athletic dreams were drowning in a sea of inability, I've wanted to coach. Those who can't do, teach and those who can't play, coach.
I sat down and began to read every great coaching book I could get my hands on. I was voracious. Coach Wooden's Pyramid of Success, Sacred Hoops by Phil Jackson, What it Takes to be Number 1 by Vince Lombardi, and, of course, Bad as I Wanna Be by Dennis Rodman. These were my Bible, my Torah, my Bhagavad Gita. I strove to be the best I could be....by making others be the best that they could be.
For 10 years I studied and at the age of 18, got my first coaching job. I was the Assistant Water Boy for the Defiance Desperados, a D League Kickball team with a franchise winning percentage of .087. For years I languished. I coached everywhere, in every sport. I spent time as an Assistant to the Assistant Trainer's Assistant for the Massapequa Mustangs (Dodgeball). I worked as an Intern for the Babysitter of the Assistant Coach of the Tallahassee Titans (Curling). I even found myself as the Assistant White Board Eraser (Pre-Game Speeches Only) for the Wayne Weavers (Professional Basket Weaving). And then, in the summer of 2004, I got my big break.
After a lengthy interview process, I was name the head coach of the Bingham Bed Wetters, an F League Softball Team. In just three years, I raised their franchise record from 14-145 to 20-190. They'd never seen such success. And so it was that I was sitting late in my office one night, working on the lineup, that my phone rang.
On the other end of the line was the legendary Ryan Djernes himself. He wanted me to fly out to Santa Monica (in actuality he meant that I should take a bus and he'd pay for 1% of the fare, a deal I couldn't pass up) and meet with him about becoming the next head coach of the Soft J's. I packed up and left a note on my desk, resigning as the most successful coach in the history of the Bed Wetters.
I sat on the bus, riding West, gazing out the window the whole way. It was all happening, my dreams were coming true. I knew that I'd get the job, and I knew that the Soft J's would never be the same.
I sat down and began to read every great coaching book I could get my hands on. I was voracious. Coach Wooden's Pyramid of Success, Sacred Hoops by Phil Jackson, What it Takes to be Number 1 by Vince Lombardi, and, of course, Bad as I Wanna Be by Dennis Rodman. These were my Bible, my Torah, my Bhagavad Gita. I strove to be the best I could be....by making others be the best that they could be.
For 10 years I studied and at the age of 18, got my first coaching job. I was the Assistant Water Boy for the Defiance Desperados, a D League Kickball team with a franchise winning percentage of .087. For years I languished. I coached everywhere, in every sport. I spent time as an Assistant to the Assistant Trainer's Assistant for the Massapequa Mustangs (Dodgeball). I worked as an Intern for the Babysitter of the Assistant Coach of the Tallahassee Titans (Curling). I even found myself as the Assistant White Board Eraser (Pre-Game Speeches Only) for the Wayne Weavers (Professional Basket Weaving). And then, in the summer of 2004, I got my big break.
After a lengthy interview process, I was name the head coach of the Bingham Bed Wetters, an F League Softball Team. In just three years, I raised their franchise record from 14-145 to 20-190. They'd never seen such success. And so it was that I was sitting late in my office one night, working on the lineup, that my phone rang.
On the other end of the line was the legendary Ryan Djernes himself. He wanted me to fly out to Santa Monica (in actuality he meant that I should take a bus and he'd pay for 1% of the fare, a deal I couldn't pass up) and meet with him about becoming the next head coach of the Soft J's. I packed up and left a note on my desk, resigning as the most successful coach in the history of the Bed Wetters.
I sat on the bus, riding West, gazing out the window the whole way. It was all happening, my dreams were coming true. I knew that I'd get the job, and I knew that the Soft J's would never be the same.
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