Uncle Charlie

Remember you will not always win. Some days, the most resourceful individual will taste defeat. But there is, in this case, always tomorrow - after you have done your best to achieve success today. M. Maltz.

In 1968 I was a high school varsity shortstop. Only a sophomore and only as a result of two people. One was Mike Brannigan who had hurt his elbow falling from the back of a Jeep on the way to practice, and the other Charlie Escalier. Charlie was our non-teacher coach at the Parochial school in Southern California. When Mike was injured Charlie gave me a chance, boldly switching me from behind the plate where I was mired three deep, out to the center of the action. A whole new skill set, a wonderful opportunity, a great challenge and a huge gamble his part.

It worked well. We won lot's of games and Charlie looked like a genius. The single most important thing Charlie did for me, outside of the position switch and the infusion of the necessary confidence , was to give me a book. He said to me, "If you are gonna be a shortstop, you need to also be a leader, to master focus and concentration, and here is how."

The book was Maxwell Maltz's Phsyco Cybernetics.

It was the art and science of harnessing the power of the mind towards a single end result. To learn. To grow, to use all accumulated information and data to your advantage. To put it into play. I took the tedium of Spanish verb conjugation to the dugout and studied opposing pitchers till I could pretty much tell if they were thinking fast ball or curve. Algebra was a PIA until it showed me the quickest way to go from first to third.

Charlie was 'let go' after my sophomore year because of a new rule that said teachers must be offered coaching jobs first, and I lost my friend and mentor. Funny how encouragement, respect and self image can affect play. Both to the positive and negative. I still was able to compete, led the league in hitting and was followed by a handful of scouts, but there was something missing.

I was playing on auto pilot. The thrill, the challenge, the joy of concise execution, mandatory in baseball, the team camaraderie, were flames on final flicker. I was getting more questions than answers and it was almost 1970, lot's of stuff happening in the world to distract.

My ability to focus began to fade. Concentration slipped away. I became angry, confused, ambivalent.

I will spare you the details of my college days (and nights). I wish I would have re-read that book Charlie gave me when I was making that series of bad decisions. I was still a shortstop but the competition was now much better, stronger, faster, smarter. Real world issues were closing in, demanding responses on many levels. My ego was bruised and there were people whom I admired suggesting that that was a good thing. To say confusion was constant would be redundant.

If I could time travel back into the locker room and counsel young number 4 as he questioned his mental, physical and spiritual abilities, I would say, 'hey kid, it's OK, relax and have some fun, focus and concentrate on what's in front of you. Hit the ball, study the lesson, do the work. It'll all be OK.'

'Oh, and read that book again.'