Moments in the Sun...

Opening Weekend of the 2009 college baseball season is officially in the books, and for me, it was one to remember.

For the first time since 1975 I was not a participant in the special brand of excitement felt by players and coaches across the baseball landscape, as they begin "working on a dream"- the pursuit of a championship season. Instead, as Friday arrived, I was trying to unplug a clogged drain in one of the apartments, whose renovations have occupied my time since August. A foul smelling, dark brown liquid was spewing from under the kitchen sink and over the new tile floor, settling in a putrid puddle under the cabinets and in the track of the patio door.

Great career move!

My family and I left Florida in June to move to my in-law's farm along the Tennessee River. We survived six months in a mobile home not much larger than the first base dugout back at Florida Atlantic, except there were no college baseball players there; just Mary Beth, Luke and Maggie, two dogs, three cats, and the occasional skunk.

A friend told me of an investment opportunity too good to pass up.

That should have been my first warning sign.

We purchased a tri-plex in Kodak, Tennessee, about two home runs from where the Tennessee Smokies play their games. "Tri-plex" might sound impressive, but it was a dump. Our hopes to get in and out fast, with few problems and limited spending were dashed quickly. Needless to say the place was a nightmare.

Recently, my partner bailed, and I am alone trying to finish the project and get it rented. That situation became less enjoyable as each day brought baseball season closer.

What was I thinking?

Friday was a cold day at the foot of the Smokies. I tried calling my successor at FAU and wish him luck, but speaking with John McCormack and knowing I was not part of the action made things worse. I decided to get my work done for the day and get back to our new house and my family. Maybe I'd get home in time to walk down by the river and look for arrowheads with the kids.

Then the sink blew up my day.

I finally climbed onto the roof and tried to work the snake through the air vent and down to the problem.

It didn't work.

As I sat there debating if I was more cold than frustrated, I could hear music playing from the radio in the kitchen below. It was a song by a country group called Emerson Drive called Moments.

I sat back and took a few minutes to feel sorry for myself.

In the song, a young man encounters an old homeless man as he walks out onto a bridge. It's a bit like Jimmy Stewart in It's A Wonderful Life, as the old man prevents the younger from jumping. He tells him that "looking at me you might not know it, but I had my moments...moments in the sun...moments when I was second to none..." Each man feels he is more than appearances would lead one to think. The young man has a beautiful wife and much to live for despite his current situation, and the old man was a hero in the war, and again, that night, a hero on that bridge.

There have been times this fall when that song would pop into my head and I would smile, thankful for my moments.

I climbed down, locked the apartments and headed back towards home.

 But it was Opening Day, so I stopped in Knoxville and bought my first ever ticket to a college baseball game. That seemed very, very, strange.

Oregon State was in the field and Tennessee batting in the bottom of the first as I entered Lindsey Nelson Stadium as just another fan in jeans, dirty (OK-Smelly) work boots, and a John Deere hat. I walked from one end of the stadium to another, admiring the beauty of the green grass and dazzling white uniforms from all different vantage points. It was a far different view than from in the dugout. Different in more ways than I'll take time to share.

But I enjoyed watching Todd Raleigh and Pat Casey compete against each other, as I wondered what other fans used to think, looking down at me doing the same. They sure looked professional- did I? Their players looked like the real thing- did mine? It was all very strange.

By the sixth I was really cold and felt the need to be with my family. Perhaps I needed assurance that I had made the right choice last spring. In my heart I know that I did, but at this "moment" I felt very out of place at the ballpark.

Arriving home I knew it was about to begin again. It was 6:30 PM...the first pitch had been thrown at FAU without me. My son Jim sent me a text, "Opening Nite... U not in dugout...weird!" I gave my wife a hug and she told me I could now experience the joy of watching on GameTracker!

I periodically checked on Mac and the boys as the Rams of Fordham gave them a closer game than any coach wants in his debut. Mac had talked about playing more "small ball", but Tom Hatcher must not have listened. He went deep twice.

This morning, as BP played out in Boca, I sat with the kids at Mass as the snow fell outside, hiding the mountains from view.

That was a "moment" I'm happy to have had.

KC