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Skillet: The Older I Get

Britt Nicole "All this time" LIVE

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Indiana University Football Fantasy for Two

On March 2, the Fellowship of Christian Athlete's rep from Indiana University reached out to me.  Many, many people reached out in the following weeks aftere the tornado and continue to do so.  Being the FCA rep at Henryville H.S., Dave Hudson (the FCA rep at IU and for southern IN) emailed me.  That started a relationship that has developed quickly over the last six weeks.  We met last Friday and spoke about possibly expanding my responsibilities with FCA in southern Indiana which is something I have been interested in the last few months.

But how that meeting came about was pretty amazing to me.  Mr. Hudson works closely with the IU football team and coaching staff and he conveyed to me that they wanted to do something to help the Henryville community post tornado.  Me writing this is going against Head Coach Kevin Wilson's  wishes in that he wanted to maintain low publicity, in fact, he wanted none.  But I believe that something like this needs to be public.  It needs to be known that Coach Wilson is not in Bloomington just worrying about putting together a winning football program (keep working coach!) but cares about the community he is serving.  Hudson and the IU football team coordinated some things that were so unbelievably impressive that I felt it had to be acknowledged here. 

I was asked by Hudson to speak to the football team at chapel last Friday before our meeting to discuss my future in helping FCA.  I felt it was a great way to thank the players personally and Hudson felt it would be good for the players to hear from someone directly affected that day (though minimally).  As we arrived we went to the football offices and were whisked almost immediately into head coach Kevin Wilson's office.  Impressive office, but even more impressive was how congenial he was not to just me but to my wife Kristi and especially my two kids.  Everyone associated with the football program were more than gracious with us as we walked around the building.  Maybe it is because I am an IU fan, but it seemed genuine, I mean...I am a basketball coach, it isn't like I have any D1 football recruits that played for me.

Coach Wilson offered and we quickly accepted for the kids to go down onto the football field and to run around and play.  I laughed while speaking with Hudson and my wife and got the thought across that the kids don't even realize what they are getting to do right now.  I know IU football didn't have the greatest season last year, but with Coach Wilson's intensity and focus, if he gets the right players, I truly believe they will be competitive in the near future.  What impressed me about Coach Wilson is that from what I know even though they didn't have the greatest season on the field last season, he seems to "get it" off the field.  Ultimately he will have to win and he knows that, but I felt much better about the football program after Friday night.

I went in and addressed the entire football team and coaching staff speaking for 15-20 minutes and then when finished my family was invited by Coach Wilson to hang around for awhile.  He spoke to me again personally and had very kind words to say about living in Oklahoma and knowing somewhat what the people of Henryville were going through.  The players were accomodating and kind to us and showed me respect.

I have spoken about the IU programs that have reached out because they have done so to me personally.  I do know that the University of Louisville football team came to Henryville and worked, they visited injured people in hospitals, and so did some of the Indianapolis Colts players.  There have been many people from all over who have either sent items to Henryville or physically visited and/or worked there in cleaning up.  It has been amazing.

We finished the night with the kids playing on the football field again and Hudson and I speaking about the future.  I hope that the team and coaching staff got as much out of the night my family and I did.  We are IU fans, so I doubt that the football team did get as much from some nobody former basketball coach, but Coach Wilson was able to make some dreams come true for two people....oh yea and my two kids, too.

Yahoo's Ryan Kartje Does An Excellent Job

Recount of post tornado Henryville H.S.

Little League vs. High School

Man oh man, how much do I appreciate my mom and dad, David and Elizabeth Hunter.  Growing up my parents did something that I didn't appreciate until I became an adult and even more when I became a teacher and coach.  That thing I appreciated was that one or both showed up at all of my sister's and/or my events. 

My dad knew very little about sports  and always joked about getting the sports mixed up that we played.  My mom just loved us and probably knew more than dad and was for sure a lot more competitive when it came to us being successful or not.  But they sat through little league games and practices from the time we started playing until, well, they still came to my games when I was a varsity basketball coach.

It is painful for me to sit through my kid's little league practices.  The coaches are doing a fine job, and I couldn't be happier (they volunteered, I didn't, I just want to be dad), but the talent level and the lack of knowledge of the kids (they are 4 and 7 years old, I can hear it now...backoff Coach Hunter) drives me crazy.  I am not pointing fingers at other kids, I am also speaking of my own children.  They have so long to go, a long way to go.  I really am not one of those parents that expects perfection from their children at such a young age, I do want them to have fun, play hard, and listen to their coaches.

Then I went to a j.v. baseball game this past Saturday (it was in my backyard).  These were younger kids trying to show why they should be playing up at the varsity level.  It was a beautiful Saturday, not a cloud in the sky, just warm enough that a long sleeve t-shirt might be too much.  And I sat there and watched what I hope my kids become some day.  Hard nosed, competitive, with more advanced skills.  Playing for the love of the game, playing to show the varsity coach why they deserve varsity PT, playing for themselves, yet playing for the name on the front of the chest.  My son watches these players as well as all players at games we go to, I can only hope that the role models he and my daughter choose are the ones I would pick for them like those we saw Saturday.

Now, back to my kids, I am only half kidding about being driven crazy at my kids practices (I love their games), and I do love my kids and I will go to their practices and work with them in the back yard.  Because that is this time isn't it?  To be frustrated, yet loving.  To work with them to improve, yet let them have fun.  To try and "coach" them at home and have them not listen to one word I say because I am dad.  This is that time right?  And these will be the times I reflect upon in the future when they are playing high school sports and me wishing I could get this time back because I loved it....even though they drove me crazy. 

The time will pass by too fast.

Father Forgets by W. Livingston Larned

After writing about how I struggle sometimes, ok, a lot of the time with my kids, Al Eckert an administrator at Silver Creek Middle School sent me this writing, and I thought it was so good I wanted to share with everyone.

Listen, son:  I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead.  I have stolen into your room alone.  Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me.  Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are things I was thinking, son:  I had been cross to you.  I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel.  I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes.  I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too.  You spilled things.  You gulped down your food.  You put your elbows on the table.  You spread butter too thick on your bread.  And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!”  and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon.  As I came up the road I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles.  There were holes in your stockings.  I humiliated you before your friends by marching you ahead of me to the house.  Stockings were expensive—and if you had to buy them you would be more careful!  Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes?  When I glanced over the paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door.  “What is it you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither.  And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me.  What has habit been doing to me?  The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding—this was my reward to you for being a boy.  It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth.  I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character.  The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills.  This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush and kiss me good night.  Nothing else matters tonight, son.  I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours.  But tomorrow I will be a real daddy!  I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh.  I will bite my tongue when impatient words come.  I will keep saying as if it were a ritual:  “He is nothing but a boy—a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man.  Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary on your cot, I see that you are still a baby.  Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder.  I have asked too much, too much.

What's that have to do with sports?  Take a moment and ask yourself as a parent how you react to your children when they are playing athletics.  There is nothing, nothing wrong with expecting for them to be as good as they can be, to work hard and to listen to their coaches, but sometimes, sometimes we just need to be mom and dad.