SEVENTEEN INCHES.....
This is a
reprint of a article that was sent to me some time ago...perhaps it's even been
years; however, it's message still resonates with me EVERY TIME I READ IT...
and I pray that it always will! It will take you several minutes to read it in
its entirety; but don't miss a word so you will not miss the poignant message
it has for everyone of us that mentor young people...or believe that our
country is in sorry shape and we want to be a part of the solution and not a
part of the problem.
In Nashville, Tennessee, during the first
week of January, 1996, more than 4,000 baseball coaches descended upon the
Opryland Hotel for the 52nd annual ABCA convention.
While
I waited in line to register with the hotel staff, I heard other more veteran
coaches rumbling about the lineup of speakers scheduled to present during the
weekend. One name, in particular, kept resurfacing, always with the same
sentiment — “John Scolinos is here? Oh man, worth every penny of my airfare.”
Who
the heck is John Scolinos, I wondered. Well, in 1996 Coach Scolinos was 78
years old and five years retired from a college coaching career that began in
1948. No matter, I was just happy to be there.
He
shuffled to the stage to an impressive standing ovation, wearing dark polyester
pants, a light blue shirt, and a string around his neck from which home plate
hung — a full-sized, stark-white home plate. Pointed side down.
Seriously,
I wondered, who in the world is this guy?
After
speaking for twenty-five minutes, not once mentioning the prop hanging around
his neck, Coach Scolinos appeared to notice the snickering among some of the
coaches. Even those who knew Coach Scolinos had to wonder exactly where he was
going with this, or if he had simply forgotten about home plate since he’d
gotten on stage. Then, finally …
“You’re
probably all wondering why I’m wearing home plate around my neck. Or maybe you
think I escaped from Camarillo State Hospital,” he said, his voice growing
irascible. I laughed along with the others, acknowledging the possibility.
“No,”
he continued, “I may be old, but I’m not crazy. The reason I stand before you
today is to share with you baseball people what I’ve learned in my life, what
I’ve learned about home plate in my 78 years.”
Several
hands went up when Scolinos asked how many Little League coaches were in the
room. “Do you know how wide home plate is in Little League?” After a pause,
someone offered, “Seventeen inches,” more question than answer.
“That’s
right,” he said. “How about in Babe Ruth? Any Babe Ruth coaches in the house?”
Another
long pause.
“Seventeen
inches?”came a guess from another reluctant coach.
“That’s
right,” said Scolinos. “Now, how many high school coaches do we have in the
room?” Hundreds of hands shot up, as the pattern began to appear. “How wide is
home plate in high school baseball?”
“Seventeen
inches,” they said, sounding more confident.
“You’re
right!” Scolinos barked. “And you college coaches, how wide is home plate in
college?”
“Seventeen
inches!” we said, in unison.
“Any
Minor League coaches here? How wide is home plate in pro ball?”
“Seventeen
inches!”
“RIGHT!
And in the Major Leagues, how wide home plate is in the Major Leagues?”
“Seventeen
inches!”
“SEV-EN-TEEN
INCHES!” he confirmed, his voice bellowing off the walls.
“And
what do they do with a a Big League pitcher who can’t throw the ball over these
seventeen inches?” Pause. “They send him to Pocatello!” he hollered, drawing
raucous laughter.
“What
they don’t do is this: they don’t say, ‘Ah, that’s okay, Bobby. You can’t hit a
seventeen-inch target? We’ll make it eighteen inches, or nineteen inches. We’ll
make it twenty inches so you have a better chance of throwing the ball over it.
If you can’t hit that, let us know so we can make it wider still, say
twenty-five inches.’”
“Coaches,
let me ask each of you.… what do we do when our best player shows up late to
practice? What do we do if he violates curfew? What if he uses drugs? Do we
hold him accountable? Or do we change the rules to fit him? Do we widen home
plate?
The
chuckles gradually faded as four thousand coaches grew quiet, the fog lifting
as the old coach’s message began to unfold.
Then
he turned the plate toward himself and, using a Sharpie, began to draw
something. When he turned it toward the crowd, point up, a house was revealed,
complete with a freshly drawn door and two windows. “This is the problem in our
homes today. With our marriages, with the way we parent our kids. With our
discipline. We don’t teach accountability to our kids, and there is no consequence
for failing to meet standards. We widen the plate!”
Pause.
Then, to the point at the top of the house he added a small American flag.
“This
is the problem in our schools today. The quality of our education is going
downhill fast and teachers have been stripped of the tools they need to be
successful….to educate and discipline our young people. We are allowing others
to widen home plate! Where is that getting us?”
“And
this is the problem in the Church, where powerful people in positions of
authority have taken advantage of young children, only to have such an atrocity
swept under the rug for years. Our church leaders are widening home plate!”
I
was amazed. At a baseball convention where I expected to learn something about
curveballs and bunting and how to run better practices, I had learned something
far more valuable. From an old man with home plate strung around his neck, I
had learned something about life, about myself, about my own weaknesses and
about my responsibilities as a leader. I had to hold myself and others
accountable to that which I knew to be right, lest our families, our faith, and
our society continue down an undesirable path.
“If
I am lucky,” Coach Scolinos concluded, “you will remember one thing from this
old coach today. It is this: if we fail to hold ourselves to a higher standard,
a standard of what we know to be right; if we fail to hold our spouses and our
children to the same standards, if we are unwilling or unable to provide a
consequence when they do not meet the standard; and if our schools and churches
and our government fail to hold themselves accountable to those they serve,
there is but one thing to look forward to …”
With
that, he held home plate in front of his chest, turned it around, and revealed
its dark black backside.
“…
dark days ahead.”
Coach
Scolinos died in 2009 at the age of 91, but not before touching the lives of
hundreds of players and coaches, including mine. Meeting him at my first ABCA
convention kept me returning year after year, looking for similar wisdom and
inspiration from other coaches. He is the best clinic speaker the ABCA has ever
known because he was so much more than a baseball coach. His message was clear:
Coaches, keep your players — no matter
how good they are — your own children, and most of all, keep yourself at
seventeen inches. It a measurement that is good for everyone of us!
