Page 93 of The Problem with Players

His embarrassment settled away slightly as he shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just get in my head a bit, and I can’t seem to focus out there.”

“I know. Footloose.”

“Why do you keep saying Footloose?”

“Because that’s what got me through my tough period when I was struggling. I was about your age when I had scouts coming out to watch me play. I always froze up on those days and would have some of my worst games. It wasn’t until I met a coach who gave me this technique that changed everything for me.”

“The Footloose technique?”

“Yeah. It’s where you take a moment and dance.”

He laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not shitting you, Cameron. And if you go back to watch some of my old tapes, you’ll see me doing it on the sidelines before I went up to bat. Even in the Major Leagues. It’s shaking off the pressure that is building inside you. It’s finding out that no matter what, life isn’t that serious. It’s agame, yeah, but it’s not the end of your life if you don’t win or lose.”

“Tell that to my dad,” he murmured.

“That’s the thing about Footloose,” I explained. “You don’t have to explain it to anyone else but yourself. Just try it, will you? If it doesn’t work, fine. But if you do it, realizing that no one’s opinion of you matters out there except for your own, then maybe you can get more out of your head and more into your heart. That’s where baseball exists, Cam.” I patted his chest, over his heart. “We play from here first. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Footloose,” he mumbled to himself. “And you just dance?”

“Hell yeah,” I said as I started dancing around like a complete fool. “You let loose.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “That sounds silly.”

“That’s the whole point. It’s light. It doesn’t weigh you down.”

“And a coach taught you this technique?”

“The best coach in all of baseball. I promise you. If you allow yourself to be a complete fool, you also allow yourself to achieve greatness.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Now, get out there with the guys. They need their leader to push them today before the game.”

He nodded and started jogging out to join the rest of the team.

I hurried behind him, hoping that he might take my advice.

As the practice continued, Avery stood next to me with her whistle hanging around her neck and a clipboard close to her chest. As the guys performed a play to perfection, I noticed the small grin that fell on Avery’s face.

“You’re pretty good at this, Nathan. The guys listen to you,” she told me.

“They like you more.”

“Well, no shit. I’m amazing.”

I snickered. “I think we can win this next series against Hamilton High. I think we’re going to take it home.”

“I sure hope so. The guys are working harder than they ever have. I would love to have a win under our belt. Then we can even make it to the postseason playoffs. Could you imagine that?”

“With you as their coach, absolutely.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop with the flattery. It’s annoying.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “This does feel good, though, being back around the game. Coaching. For a while, I thought about coaching at a big college level. I got a few offers, but I wanted to help get the farm back on its feet. I felt as if my time was better used here.”

“The farm seems to be doing really well.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But now I have the best of both worlds. Baseball and family.”

“A big college-level team would be a lot more exciting than this little high school,” she said.

---