The Prince and the Shoe

Campus Safety.

Its amazing how two words can trigger a flood of painful and promising memories.  After I finished college, I was broke, both figuratively and literally.  I needed a job and a plan and didn't feel capable of being a grown up.  I went back to what was safe for me...softball and school.  I became a graduate assistant for the team and took a job as a secretary in the Lee's Campus Safety office.

I logged parking tickets.
I assigned parking tags.
I made ID's for students and teachers.

Everyday I would look out the window of the 3rd floor of the admin building and stare at the fountain.  I would long for things to get easier and wonder when I would get one of those adult lives that seemed so perfect.   I couldn't imagine what that looked like for me.

I knew the fairy tale.  I knew the story of the Prince who rides in on a white horse and saves the princess from the evil stepmother.  The problem with that story is perspective.  My perspective.  In my world, things just didn't work out that way.  I was convinced I had something to do with it.

I went through the motions.

Staring.
Logging.
Assigning
Making.

Everyday I could feel a piece of me chipping away.  I continued to look out the window but I knew it was a matter of time before the parts of me that believed in something better would no longer be there.

I guess I never believed in the fairy tale.  The idea of "Love at First Sight" was such a dreamy, fantastical thought.  The idea of being rescued seemed quite primitive.  I didn't want to be rescued.  I wanted to be joined.

Quite simply, the part of the fairy tale that I actually believed in was the shoe.  The prince placed the glass slipper on Cinderella's foot and it FIT.  I would find myself wondering how the story changed if the handsome guy with the cool ride presented a shoe that didn't fit the princess.  Is it still happily ever after with sore feet?

Enter Campus Safety.  
Enter the new, young assistant basketball coach.
Enter the policy that all new employees must get a staff ID.

It wasn't love at first sight, it actually took months for that, but instantly I knew he wasn't like anyone I had met before.  He was driven, confident (maybe cocky, at times), with a kindness in his eyes that made me feel safe.

Last night, Johnson Central High School recognized something in my husband that I've known for 15 years and inducted him into their Hall of Fame.  Below is the speech he wrote for the presentation:

First of all I would like to thank Aimee, Noel and the committee for all of their hard work in putting this event together.  I would also like to congratulate the other 9 members of the HOF Class of 2014, many of which I have fond memories of.  I am truly humbled and honored to be joining my dad in the Johnson Central High School Hall of Fame.

 I have a few special guests that I would like to recognize and thank for being here on this special occasion. My parents, Robert and Lillian, my brother Adam and his wife Erin, my uncle Roger and aunt Diane, my good friend and radio sidekick Michael Lawson, and last but certainly not least my wife Autumn, son Tate and daughter Lily. 

The old African proverb states that, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Tonight I stand before you as a child of the village known as Johnson Central High School.  As I look across this room, I see a lot of villagers.  You see, my relationship with this high school goes way beyond the four years that I spent here as a student . My relationship with this high school dates back to the day I was born in 1974. With both parents working here, my formative years were spent running these halls and interacting with two decades worth of students, many of whom are in attendance tonight and are already in this HOF. There probably isn’t a place that I spent more time as a child than in that gym across the hall. No group of people had a bigger influence on a 9 year old boy, than the 1984 15^th Region Championship Basketball Team.  Being the son of their principal who was always tagging along, it would’ve been easy for them to get tired of me and push me aside. Instead, they accepted me as a little brother and made me feel like a member of the team. Guys like Harry Meek, Les Trimble, Mike and Mo Hall, and Roger Fairchild, who I am a proud to join as a member of this HOF, taught me the importance of being a role model to those who look up to you. As long as I live I will never forget that night at Virgie when Harry Meek hit the shot at the buzzer to beat Magoffin County and send Johnson Central to the Sweet 16 in Rupp Arena!  I also will never forget dad picking me up by the arm and spanking my rear end because I was so excited I took off running onto the court to join the celebration. I can honestly say this team and group of guys made me dream of some day wearing the black and gold and being a Johnson Central Golden Eagle.

The four years that I spent as a student here were four of the best years of my life. I made many lifelong friends and had some of the best teachers that I had in my academic career that spans thru two post graduate degrees. Folks like Brenda Pennington, Patty Setser, and Shirley Chaffin, whom I playfully nicknamed “The Triumvirate”, were as tough and as good as they come. Throw in Cathy Gullet and I couldn’t imagine a better English Department anywhere. A funny story about the late Shirley Chaffin that many in the audience can probably relate to ……When I see Red, the first thing that comes to mind is surprisingly not Louisville or even Indiana….its Shirley Chaffin’s red pin and the damage it could do to an English paper. That sweet woman had to keep Bic in business for forty plus years. True story, as a freshman at Morehead we had to do an end of term paper in freshman English. When I got the assignment, my initial thought was I had just done a term paper six months ago for the toughest most thorough teacher I had ever known. Surely, if it was worthy of a 92 with Shirley it would be good enough for Mrs. Lemaster.  So, I pulled out the old paper and the only thing I changed was the date on the cover page. I got a 98, six points higher than with Mrs. Chaffin.

Some of the fonder memories of my childhood were traveling around the state of Kentucky with my dad and his FFA boys. Dad, along with Clarence Meek, Leon Burchett, TJ Cochran, and Roger Mollette built one of the best FFA programs in the state.  It was an honor to be a 4 year member of the FFA program that my dad helped build. Many of the leadership skills that have helped me have a successful career were learned and developed in the FFA Program here at Johnson Central. Being Chapter President for three years and winning the first two individual state championships in the programs history are things that I am proud of to this day.

As most of you would expect, one of the things that I am most proud of is fulfilling my childhood dream of playing basketball at Johnson Central. My senior season of 1991-92 was a special year. After losing several seniors from a top ten team in the state my junior year, not much was expected from the team.  We only had two seniors, myself and Tim Delong –the best 6’0 Center I ever saw, and we became affectionately known as the Cardiac Kids for our flare for late game come from behind wins. One that I will never forget is the first game against our arch rival Paintsville that year.  Paintsville was predicted to be one of the best teams in the 15^th Region and contend for the region title. No one gave us a chance against the Tigers, and we found ourselves down by 8 points midway through the fourth quarter. As we did many times that season, we mounted a furious comeback and I was able to cap the comeback with a three pointer at the buzzer to beat our rivals, 81-80. We made a similar comeback to beat them later in the year across the creek at Paintsville. They were so upset that they had lost two close ones against us, that they agreed to a third regular season game on a night that we both were off, thinking that surely a third time would be the charm. No such luck, we beat them again, something that I couldn’t be more proud of. We finished the season by winning the 57^th District Regular Season Championship over Sheldon Clark and would’ve been the #1 seed going into the District Tournament if it were seeded like it is today, but back then you drew your first round opponent and unfortunately for us we drew the Sheldon Clark team that finished second behind us in the regular season and was one of the best teams in the 15^th Region. We went into the post season on a roll and were considered the dark horse team to win the 15^th Region Title by the Lexington Herald Leader. That dream came to an end in Magoffin Co as Sheldon Clark beat us in the first round of the district tournament.  My senior season allowed me to realize another childhood dream by getting the opportunity to play college basketball at Morehead State University.

I had five great years of college that prepared me and propelled me into a career. I split those five years between Morehead and Milligan College.  Some highlights of my college career were getting to play against Kentucky in Rupp Arena, and winning a conference championship and playing in the NAIA National Tournament at Milligan for the first time in school history in any sport. Playing basketball in college opened the door to my first career as a college basketball coach. I was blessed with the opportunity to coach and recruit for eight years at almost every level of college basketball from JUCO to NAIA to NCAA Division I. The leadership and relationship skills that I learned at Johnson Central prepared me to travel all over the world and recruit talented basketball players from all walks of life.

Over the past few minutes I have talked about many of my accomplishments. None of these things would have been possible without the support of my parents. As I mentioned earlier, they both worked at this high school and I am so thankful that they included me in their careers as opposed to leaving me at daycare. I would like to recognize and thank my mom for all of her sacrifice over the years so that I never missed a practice, a game, or an opportunity to get better. I would like to thank my dad for always knowing the right buttons to push to motivate me to be the best that I could be both academically and athletically.  Excellence was the standard in the O’Bryan household. It’s amazing how life brings you full circle.

Fast forward to today, I find myself married to a wonderful woman who just happens to be a high school principal with a nine year old little boy and an 8 year old little girl. Every day I spend with them makes me feel like I am looking through the rear view mirror into my childhood. Cleveland High School is the village that we live in today.  This past fall was a flashback to 1984 as I watched my children become a part of our State Semi-Final Football Team, Lily as a cheerleader and Tate as a ball boy and spirit leader.  Our All State QB Austin Herink is Tate’s version of Harry Meek. When we lost one game short of the state championship I watched a disappointed nine year old boy walk out on the field to console and congratulate his heroes, and I couldn’t help but think back to 1984 when another 9 year old boy did the same thing in Rupp Arena.  I thank God each day that my children are being raised in a village very similar to the one that raised me.

It's our story.  It hasn't always been easy and the "adult life" isn't all its cracked up to be.  One thing I know.  He still has kindness in his eyes that makes me feel safe. 

On the day of our wedding, he ironically gave me a pendant that said "To My Missing Piece."  How about that?  Fairy tales do come true.  Its just in my fairy tale, its all about the shoe.

~ao

Spaghetti Arms

It was the first time I had ever had a boy over for dinner.  I was in 5th grade and my mom had made spaghetti.  In my 11 year old mind, it felt long overdue.  I thought his mullet and leather jacket were dreamy.

~I pause here to say that my son is in 4th grade.  Any mother who is reading this, should take a big gasp of a breath.  The thought of a girl being "dreamy" to my son is not just terrifying, its gut-wrenching and all-around impossible to think about~

OK.  Back to dinner.  My parents had some adult friends over.  As I set the dining room table and counted the plates, I started to panic.  Each plate represented a person, and none of those people included me or my dreamy boy that was coming to dinner.  I knew the answer before I even asked, "Mom, where are WE sitting?"

He arrived and we sat in the living room while my two crazy brothers ran around jumping from cushion to cushion on the couch.  He pretended to be amused, but he was thinking the same thing I was.  "Man, I wish they would calm down or go outside and play in the snow."  No such luck.

And then it was dinner time.  I tried to prepare him for the crazy he was about to experience as we walked past the "adult table" and into the kitchen.  There they sat at the kitchen table, Monster #1 & Monster #2.  He nervously laughed as he sat down while they clanked their forks on the table, a symbol that someone, somewhere had better be bringing them food soon.

It only went downhill from there.  They talked about their poop, they blew bubbles in their milk, they laid spaghetti noodles across his arm.  None of this comes close to comparing to the holy terror of embarrassment that followed with four simple words.  "Are you her boyfriend?"

I could tell you story after story of my ill-behaved, crazy brothers.  Stories about self-inflicted BB gun wounds, baby oil slip and slides in the hallway, mattress fires, and other down-right scary nonsense that should have caused them to be in juvenile court.  They were doozies straight out of the Herdman family.  If you don't know the Herdmans, google them and you'll read about the craziest, misbehaving family you've ever heard of that somehow sabotages a Christmas pageant and helps the world see Christmas through their eyes.  These boys were nuts.

I am the oldest child and have two younger brothers.  I am 5 1/2 years older than Tony and 7 years older than Rusty.  When I left for college, they were 11 and 12.  I wrote over Thanksgiving about Tony here.  He was the leader of the Monster Twins and quite inventive.  He would build and concoct lots of trouble for the two of them to get into.

Rusty, was a tad bit more strategic.  He was the baby and as cute as a button with a headful of curly red hair.  He played the young and innocent card long after his innocence had left.  Tony would create these crazy adventures, like convincing people to tip them for carrying their pumpkins, and then Rusty would go in the pumpkin field, bat those long eyelashes, and make a ton of money.  When they got caught, it would always be Tony's fault for thinking of it, while Rusty stood over in the corner with a pocketful of cash.

You can imagine, as an 18 year old, the idea of leaving these pre-teen devils and moving away to college, couldn't happen fast enough.  I was over their antics and wanted to get as far away from their path of destruction that I could.  I thought the feeling was mutual.

And then the letters started.  I would walk to my post office box on campus and would find the sweetest letter from Rusty.  He would tell me all about church, his science fair project, and basketball.  It was like I watched them grow up on paper.  I often imagine what it would be like to go to college 800 miles away from your family with Facebook and twitter.  There were so many days when a little post-it note sized card from my brother would make me feel like a million bucks.  I envy those that can be immediately connected now.  I craved that twenty years ago.

Its something that unexplainable, and I thank God regularly for it.  Despite many years of torment and even more years living 800 miles away, Rusty and I managed to have such a special bond.  We are extremely alike and world's apart, all at the same time.  Over the years, I have been thankful for the relationship I have with him and how close he is with Robbie, but there is nothing that brings me more joy than my son's pure adoration for his Uncle Bobo.

Tate is blessed with an amazing father, two grandfathers, and three uncles.  All of them have played a major role in who he is becoming, but as Tate gets older, he reminds me more and more of my baby brother.

Strategic.
Loyal.
Dedicated.
Honest.
And a whole lot of silly.

And when the two of them are together, its really kind of eery.  They act EXACTLY alike.

We walked into the game last night, and some man that none of us knew asked if that was Russ' nephew.  His influence oozes out of Tate and it makes me smile.

I was teary last night as the pre-game started.  I watched Tate beam with pride as he looked down on his uncle on the court.  I can only hope that Tate becomes the kind of man whose family feels as lucky and loved as we do.  Even if Lily has to endure some torment of her own.

~ao

capture.

I'm staring at the wall.  Today I watched as oil slowly poured through a funnel.  I feel like that.  I have a lot of words, but they aren't exiting as quickly as I'd like.  I guess that's why I've been drawn to several Facebook/Twitter statuses lately focused on one word for 2014.

It's an interesting concept.  Choose one word and live it.  Sounds easy enough.

Living the word seems quite simple.  It's choosing the word that's the tough part.  Maybe its a commitment issue.  I mean, once you choose the word, you're in.  It's kind of like accepting the proposal for marriage.  If I say this is the one, then it means its the one.

What if I change my mind?  What if my word doesn't get me the desired results?  What if my word is just too dang hard?  

I don't have the answers to those questions.  All that I know is I'd like to start a new year with crisp focus.  I think having a word might help.

So I debate.  Should I choose a word that focuses on my spirit?  Maybe my word could be about my relationships.  A better word might focus on work or home.

Listen.
Mercy.
Commit.

There are so many to choose from, but getting overwhelmed with my selection kind of defeats the purpose.  I think my word might have something to do with all of those.  A word that allows me to love and appreciate all of the working parts that make me, me.

capture

to emphasize, represent, or preserve in a more or less permanent form

That's it!  If there is anything I need more than anything, its more focus on the moments or the things that make my heart pitter-patter.  Even more, though, I need not only focus on them, but I must remember.

There are days when I hear a lot of bad things.  There are days when people treat me badly.  There are days when my heart barely pits, let alone pitter-patters.

It is those days that I need to be reminded.  I need to go back to those moments or things that brought me so much joy.

So that's my word.  I plan to capture.

Capture words.
Capture songs.
Capture pictures.

I want to remember that feeling for the rest of my life.

Happy 2014!
~ao

P.S. Today I captured the picture at the top of my post.  I took down all of my Christmas decorations except for my winter-themed hearth.  My dear friend, Michelle, gave me a pillow on it that she made with the word, grace.  It almost became my word for the year, but I did a last minute switch for the word that's been on my mind lately.  Nonetheless, I love the decorations on the hearth and think this pillow fits it perfectly!

All is calm. All is bright.

Christmas Eve.

Its my favorite night.  Its that moment where it feels like the world slows down to a halt.

Waiting. 
Hoping.






I remember one night a few years ago.  It was the storybook Night Before Christmas.  The kind of night that Christmas cards are made about.  The stockings were hung, the children were nestled, and it snowed.  I stepped outside for a moment.

One moment.
To pray.
To honor.
To remember.

Christmas is something different to everyone.

To some, its about family.
To others, its about tradition.
To the young ones, it can be about the gifts.

I am blessed with so many treasured memories of Christmas.  Baking with mom.  Christmas PJs.  Luminaries at Austin Road.  The reading of the Christmas story.

But nights like tonight, there is only one thing on my mind. 

The Star.

Calm.
Bright.

On nights like tonight, I long to take a moment from the shopping, baking, wrapping and celebrating to follow the calm, bright light leading to our savior.   It doesn't seem that complicated.  After all, I imagine there was chaos during the time of his birth.

Prejudice. 
Childbirth. 
Overtaxed People.

I can't imagine the pressures of their time were less than those of ours.  And yet, they paused and followed the light.

I missed the luminaries at Austin Road.  I didn't get to bake with my mom.  And its still Christmas Eve.  Its a little harder to celebrate without the "comforts" of the season, but its still Christmas.

There is one thing that must be present for Christmas to occur.  On this night, our savior was born.

One moment.
To pray.
To honor.
To remember.

Take a moment to remember the reason for the season. 

Wait.
Hope.

Look for the star.  Jesus, Lord at thy birth.

~ao

 



Merry Christmas with Love ~ Our Christmas Letter

"The greatest of these is love."

I remember when this was read at our wedding.  As a 27 year-old young woman, love meant something totally different than it does now.  2013 has brought wonderful memories and even some difficult ones.  With each of them, his love has never been more evident in our lives.  I am thankful to experience love everyday.  As I reflect on our year, I am amazed at the simple things that have shown me love and made this year complete. 

I love when Robbie kisses my forehead.

He has done this since we were dating.  It makes me feel loved and safe. After 12 years of marriage and two kids, we have to steal moments. One of my favorite "stolen moments" was this summer on a convertible drive up the river.  With no words, wind in our hair, and a great summer playlist, I was reminded how valuable these simple moments are.  Since we don't get them often, I cherished the moment to save for later.  I couldn't imagine sharing this life with anyone else.  He is the perfect partner for me.

I love holding Tate's hand.

In the car.  Watching a movie.  Walking out of school.  This boy is a hand holder and I love every single minute of it.  He is our sensitive one that always acts in kindness and love.  Speaking of love, he has found a few.  He has extended his love of art and auditioned for his school show choir.  Imagine our surprise (since we don't have a singer in the family) when he actually made it!  Spend 5 minutes with Tate and you quickly know his 1st love.  Sundays at our house have turned in to SportsCenter.  I treasure watching my son and his daddy sitting on our deck talking about "The Game".

I love the sound of Lily's laugh.

There is no question about it.  This child loves life.  Whether she's helping me cook in the kitchen or twirling around at basketball practice, Lily is light and airy about everything she does. She is a self-proclaimed "Teacher's Pet" and has found her way back in her old Kindergarten classroom reading.  My favorite Lily moment this year was when we introduced her to Ginger Bean, our new boxer pup.  The sound of her squeals is something I will always remember. Simply stated, Lily oozes the love of the people she's around.

I love having dinner with my family.

For the first time in several years, I sat at a table and dined with my parents and brothers.  We are a close-knit family, but due to logistics, our time together, as a complete unit, is limited.  What better reason to dine together than Rev and Red's 40th wedding anniversary?  We took our 1^st Willemsen family vacation in over 20 years to Punta Cana and enjoyed many meals, and even more laughs together.  The time together was long overdue and will be something I cherish my whole life.  Even more fitting, mom and dad renewed their vows, officiated by Tate and Lily.  There wasn't a dry eye on the beach that day.  I am blessed to have such an amazing model of unconditional love.

I love hearing teenagers sing their alma mater.

They are the reason I do this job and every 3^rd quarter when they sing the alma mater, I am reminded of that reason.  Cleveland High School continues to be a perfect job for me.  The principal job will never be easy, but I am blessed to work at a place that makes it a joy.  This year brought a state title in wrestling, almost 300 diplomas presented, our first Hall of Fame ceremony, a new freshmen class of almost 400 students and a semi-final finish for our football team.

2013 is a year I will always remember as a year of love.  I hope each of you will take time out this holiday season with those you love.  But most importantly, our wish for you is that you find HIS love in your life.  It makes all the difference.

Peace. Joy.  LOVE.

~Autumn, resident writer for Robbie, Tate, and Lily (and Max & Ginger too!!)

I also LOVE writing!  To keep up with our family escapades, check out www.lilytate.blogspot.com

Snow Shoes

I love this picture.  I like the contrast of black to white.  I like that the snow looks untouched.  I like that the feet belong to me.

I've always hated the snow.  I remember many cold years of carrying firewood into the house.  I would, of course, put it off until the very last thing, and would end up stumbling through the cold, blowing wind with several armfuls of wood.  In the...Pitch...Black...Night.

I guess thats another reason I love this picture.  The snow seems different from what I remember as a child.  It seems light and airy, rather than dark and cold.  I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I'm not carrying loads of wood into an already cold house.  Oh, and that I'm no longer a teenager.  We'll call it an attitude adjustment.

Its as if my feet have a clean slate.  Any direction they walk, they will be the first footsteps.  I like that idea.  Its bold and a little unconventional.

It's been a long time since I've been home for 10 days.  Its been even longer since I've been home for 10 days, NOT playing the role of wife and mom.  It feels different this time.  I think I know why.

I left New York over 21 years ago and never moved back.  The interesting part to that story would be if there was some twisted reason behind my relocation.  Its not about wanting to "get out of this place".  In fact, its really more about the person I am because of this place.  

It wouldn't be an accurate reflection unless I started at the beginning.

The Rev and Red #1 are the perfect parents for a girl like me.  Growing up was WAY tougher than I would have preferred.  I thought they had too many rules.  I was a little "bold and unconventional" and thought I knew better.  They had this amazing grace that reflected his love and mercy over my life, no matter how hard I pushed.  They are truly the definition of servants for the kingdom.  They would do anything, for anyone, at any time and I love that about them.

You read all about this guy earlier this week.

Since I usually have my own husband and kids when I'm here, I rarely get any QT with my brother and his boys.  I truly love the one-on-one time with each of them.  And yes, they are as crazy as they appear in the picture.

And then there's my great big Dutch family.

Quite simply, there is no place in this world that feels more like home than at The Willemsen Homestead.  I posted about Austin Road earlier this week.  My dad's brothers and sisters are eclectic, fun, and always make me feel so special.  I am blessed to have distinct memories with each one of them.    I am eternally grateful to my Uncle Brian for keeping the Homestead in the family.  It will forever and ever be my home and a place I cherish.

Coming from a large family on both sides can be crazy and unpredictable.

Look at this beautiful lady.  This is Catherine, my mom's mother.  She is a woman of strength, raising 5 daughters and one crazy son.  Those 6 children each have children of their own and those children have children (you're seeing a pattern here?).  Its a great big ole family with a ton of STRONG women.  You get my point?  There's drama.  There's care.  This family fights hard and loves harder.  Its hard to get everyone on the same page, but you undoubtedly feel their affection from miles away.

I believe the term "family" refers not only to those who share similar DNA.

I have many friends.  I don't say that to brag.  I am blessed and wouldn't ever take it for granted.  There's something about friends that have known you most of your life.  They remember every heartbreak, every dumb decision, and every bad hair style.  They remember everything and they love you regardless.  It would be easy to say thats why we're still friends, but it wouldn't be true.  Of course the past is a great foundation, but its those moments where you're faced with the real adult things.

The loss of a child.
Marriage frustrations.
Financial woes.  

Its during those times, you know this isn't a junior high friendship.  These are real "big girls" problems and they need "big girl" support.  I sure do have it with these ladies.

After a week in New York, I feel like I've been staring in the mirror for days.

The image in the mirror is new, but still the same.  Its a collection of all of the people and places that have touched my life.  The people who made me who I am. 

“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.” 
― Sarah Dessen, What Happened to Goodbye

Until next time,
~ao

Game Changer

There are three answers.

The day I got saved.

The day I got married.

The birth of my children.

These are the most common answers when one is asked about the single most life-changing events in their life.  I think everyone can attest that I do truly love God, my husband and children and my life would not be, well "my life", if it weren't for their presence in it.

So lets just say that's not a choice.  Let's just say you can't use the "I'm a terrible mom and wife if I don't say one of those events" for your answer.  If the "easy" answer is eliminated, what is your game changer?

The answer for me is simple and might surprise some.

It was May of 1996.

It was hot.

It was my senior season.

I had never been more excited in my life.

I was a bunter which meant many times, I was a sacrifice out.  I never trotted around the bases and high-fived my coaches as my team bounced around waiting for me to cross the plate. Nope.  I was the bunter.

It seems like a thankless job.  My job was to move the runner to second base.  Everytime.  My presence on the base was a commodity, not a necessity.  It was ok if I was OUT.

It was the nationals.

They were a top 5 team.

We were the underdog.

I bunted.

I ran back to the dugout and put my helmet up.  With a runner on 2nd base, the #3 batter grounded out.  It looked like our record-breaking season was over.  We could hold our heads high.  We were the first team in the history of the school to make it to the NAIA nationals.

Now up to bat.  

Nakia Brandon.

I looked down expecting this to be the very last at-bat for our team.  A team that had no all-stars but many shining stars.  A team that worked together and surprised many.

The bat hit the ball.

My assistant coach started jumping.

Nakia started trotting.

We all bounced around waiting for the game-winning home run hitter to cross the plate.

Tonight I sat in my parents' living room, as my mom recovers from surgery, and listened to the heartbreaking loss of our Blue Raider football team in the semi-finals of the state tournament.

Tonight each of those players is thinking about all the missed opportunities in the loss.  The coaches are reflecting on the game and the "what ifs".

But tomorrow.  Tomorrow is a different story.  Each day from tomorrow forward they will start to build a memory.  A memory that is bigger than they are.  A memory on the season that changed their game.

You see, my team eventually lost in the quarterfinals of the NAIA National Tournament.  I remember very little from my last game.  What I do remember are the many plays that got us there and the moment I bounced around waiting for the home run hitter to cross the plate.

Well played, Blue Raiders.  Well played.  We are so proud of you.

~ao

*The above softball picture is from the 1995 season and does not include Nakia.  The 1996 Harley pic has disappeared.