I keep in my office a plaque given to me years ago by my high school baseball coach. On the right side of the plaque there’s a picture of some skinny kid with tons of hair who played left field for a very good Franklin team in 1978. To be sure, no one mistakes me for Joey Votto.
On the left side of the plaque there’s a note from my coach, Doug Long, entitled “10 Commandments For Leadership.” It’s more or less a moral compass for living a good life.
The plaque memorializes the teaching points he instilled in us while playing on his team. For instance, in baseball or in life, success comes only from hard work and a good attitude. And, whether it’s after a game or a business venture, when you get knocked down you have to get right back up again. He taught us plenty more than that.
I’ve looked at that plaque a lot lately, partly because I need to remember those principles, especially the part about getting back up. While life may get better with time, it also gets harder.
But I’ve also looked at it because Coach Long is now receiving a well-deserved honor of a lifetime. After 30 years of coaching, he’s being inducted into the Ohio High School Baseball Coaches Association Hall of Fame in Columbus on Friday, Jan. 20. Franklin will have a local celebration in a ceremony Friday, Jan. 27. I’ll be at both.
It’s only fitting to pay tribute to someone who taught me so much.
Coach Long ran a tight ship, with firm rules and pre-set consequences for breaking those rules. We were never allowed to question an umpire, no matter how ridiculous the call may have been. When taking our position on the field, we had to run there, no casual strolling.
When at bat, we were to always look for the fast ball, and be prepared to hit a line drive up the middle. We were to never get picked off third base, and you don’t want to know what happened to a player who took a call third strike.
I broke every rule more times than I can even count. But through it all, I became a better ball player – and a better person – because I knew he cared about me and my teammates. He cared enough to push us.
We didn’t play well in spite of his discipline. We played well because of it.
As a result, my last team won 22 games, the most any Franklin team had ever won. See, success doesn’t just happen out of the blue.
I'll always remember a poignant moment midway through that '78 season. It was a Saturday in late April, and we'd just lost both ends of a doubleheader at Oakwood, making us 12-9 on the season. The fact that Oakwood went on to have one of its best seasons ever didn't alleviate our pain, because the reality remained that it was a Class AA school and were AAA teams. A school our size was never supposed to lose to a school that size.
Let me put it mildly. Coach Long went beserk. He was beside himself, and called a private meeting for us seniors right after the bus got back to Franklin High School.
I don't remember his words exactly, but I'll always remember the gist of what he said. We were a good class, with proven winners, having just come out of a basketball season where Franklin was 18-2 and had turned the town upside down with excitement. With that kind of talent, 12-9 wasn't acceptable. With that kind of leadership, the present state of affairs would not be tolerated.
His message was personal, and it was loud and clear -- play better, or else. There were underclassmen ready to take over every one of our positions.
Let me put something else mildly. We listened. We listened because we knew he was serious. And we finished in a flurry, teaching us for the rest of our lives how quickly life can change for the better if only the right methods and motivation are implemented.
We all need a good butt-whooping every now and then.
But when also need some good-hearted undersanding.
About a year ago, thirty-three years later, I was here in my Springboro office fighting through a particularly difficult day. I like my job, and I'm pretty good at it, but people don't call lawyers to tell them how wonderful their day is going. I stepped out into the lobby for a second during the lunch hour, and Coach Long was standing there. Did I have a minute? He was driving by and wanted to stop in and say hello.
Truth is, I’d keep a judge waiting in order to talk to him.
His visit was the kind of break in my day that I needed. We talked about his life in retirement, the goats he has on his farm, and the time he spends with his son Jake in the Miamisburg baseball program. Life is good. He doesn't look any older than he did when I was in high school.
Then he wanted to know how I was doing, which was the purpose of his visit to begin with.
He must’ve sensed my frustration. If I were in the midst of a season at that moment, my team would have been winning, but not playing as well as it could. So what I got was a half-hour lesson on Commandment No. 9 from the plaque, which reads: “Sit down and talk to yourself regularly – not to readjust your gripes and prejudices, but to arrange your attitudes and motivations, remembering that your greatest gift in life is building people.”
In other words, take time to make yourself better, and in turn you will be of greater benefit to the ones you serve.
“Never,” I said. “Besides, I never did run those 10 laps I owed you for leaving my jacket at Talawanda after our game there. How about you just waive that and we’re even?”
I knew the response as soon as I said it. “You better start running.”
Once a coach, always a coach. And I’m glad he’s mine.
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| Coach Long was humbled by the celebration that retired his number 14. |