Coach Inspired Me Despite My Three-Error Night

Made things fun, and consulted me during a low moment

Baseball season, baseball games, and baseball practices can be hot, long, and boring.

Unless you had Steve Jardine as a coach.

I wrote a piece for The Memoirist praising “Five Much-Appreciated Teachers” for Teacher Appreciation Week (May 2–6).

But, wait, coaches are teachers, too, so I wanted to give thanks to a truly, memorable and amazing coach I had who made practices and games more fun, and took a horrible situation and made it unforgettable.

Funny nicknames

Redheaded Jardine, who looked like an older and mustached Ed Sheeran, was my summer baseball coach in Vermillion in a league called Teeners (ages 13–16).

He was a laid-back dude that made baseball fun. He would create funny, clever nicknames for players like “Wheels” for J.D. Williams, our tall and heavy ace pitcher.

During one game, J.D. is standing on first base, and an opposing pitcher unfurls a wild pitch. J.D. just stands there frozen.

Coach Jardine starts hollering, “Come on wheels, start that engine of that Camaro, you should be on third by now.”

J.D. raced — I’m being kind — to second base and looked over just laughing his butt off.

“Spitball,” “Goose,” and other Jardine nicknames:

“Teddy Ballgame,” for our player, Blayne Drew, who played with the most fire and was first to practice.

“Spitball” for pitcher Matt McLane, who “accidentally” got saliva on the ball.

“Goose.” Hey! Albert Polk looked like a goose!

“Bruno” for our first baseman. His name was Sam Brunson.

And for our two twin stud shortstop and catcher Jimmy and Johnny Carr: “The Wonder Twins” or “Bam Bam” and “Bugs.” He loved his Saturday morning cartoons.

I rode an orange moped to practice, so thus I was “Moped Mike.”

I wanna rock ‘n roll all practice

During summer practices with the heat reaching the 90s, he’d have fun, exciting drills and never made us run. “It’s not what baseball is about,” He’d say. Kids actually wanted to go to practice and would show up early.

Long before walk-up music was a thing for Major League Baseball players, Jardine had walk-up music at both our practices and our games. He loved playing rock music as he pitched batting practice.

Van Halen, the Police, Eddie Money, Asia, John Cougar-Mellencougar, REO Speedwagon, and even Air Supply (J.D. had quite a sense of humor) all made vocal appearances at practices courtesy of Jardine’s infamous boombox.

“Rock of Ages” by Def Lepard was Moped Mike’s walk-up song. It always got me pumped for my plate appearances.

It’s one, two, three errors at the old ballgame

His laid-back approach made it comfortable to play for him, and you never worried about him getting mad at you if you struck out or made, say, three errors in one game, which happened to me in the championship regional game against Mitchell.

The score was tied 0–0 after two innings.

In the third inning, the first batter scorched a rocket towards me at third base, I approached the ball, put my glove down and the ball hit my glove and careened off my glove, and went bouncing over towards the opposing dugout.

E5. It was only my second error all season long, but it lead to Mitchell scoring two runs. Luckily, we rallied for two runs to tie in the bottom of the third inning. I felt relieved.

Unforgettable, that’s what you are

Then the unforgettable fire of the fourth inning happened.

J.D. was off with his pitching. He hit the first batter, then walked the next two batters. Jardine removed him and brought in Matt “Spitball” McLane.

First pitch. Smack! The ball was like shot out of a cannon. I put my glove down again more for protection than proper form then pulled my head, wishing I had a football helmet on, and no surprise to me or anyone else, the ball zipped through my legs.

Left fielder, Joe “Doughy” Braxton apparently wanted in on the fun, and he too missed the eternally rolling baseball.

It was a grotesque, error-infested, bases-clearing, tainted home run courtesy of Moped Mike and Doughy.

Come sail away with me

A few batters later, another ball is heading my way. I field it cleanly and zing it over to Bruno. Only it sails about ten feet over his head, and another would-be out ends up on third base and scores a batter later.

Once the dust settled, Mitchell vaulted to a 9–2 lead. It would later win the game 13–3.

Once we finally made the final out of the disastrous fourth inning, I wanted to cry. I felt I had a 300-pound spotted unicorn attached to my back. Heavy and eye-catching for the capacity crowd of 109 or so to all see.

White rabbit

Embarrassment was a gross understatement. If I’d have found a hole big enough, I promise I’d have dived right it in in search for Alice, the Mad Hatter, that crazy-ass rabbit with the clock, or even Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dum.

I felt like Twiddle Dum. I felt I cost us the game and the championship.

Jardine saw me sitting in the corner of the dugout with a glazed look. And on the brinks of tears.

“Moped, come here, kid,” he said calmly.

I felt like I was being summoned by a judge.

Elton John reference — but not ‘Sad Songs’

“Hold your head up. You know how many games you’ve won us fielding and hitting. Those were shots Elton John sings about. You know, ‘Rocketman.’ Hell, I couldn’t stop those.

“We’re giving awards at our banquet next week. You’ve sewn up the Golden Glove award. Shake it, off.

“Oh, and did I ever mention, once at Iowa Central Community College, we’re in the state championship. I’m up to bat. Bases loaded. Bottom of the ninth. Trailing three to two, I struck out. Called strike. Didn’t even swing. Game over.

“I’m hunched over, sobbing, as I slumped back to the dugout and the other team is celebrating, throwing their gloves and tackling each other.”

“It’s still just a game. A game for kids. A fun game. I hope you always remember that.”

Takeaways from Jardine and not Herman Edwards

“We play to win the game,” former NY Jets and current Arizona State coach Herman Edwards is infamous for saying.

Not necessarily, Herman. Sometimes, we play to learn life lessons, to grow from our experiences, and sometimes we just play for fun.

Sports are fun. Often this gets overlooked by coaches, universities, parents, fans, and athletes.

Deja vu

My middle-school goalkeeper was visibly shaken after letting two goals score to turn a 2–0 lead into a 2–2 tie. At halftime, I asked if he wanted to stay in. He didn’t.

“I had a rough day yesterday. Sorry, I just don’t have it, coach,” Jacob said, tears nudging at both of his eyes.

I gave him a quick side hug.

“Dude, we’re not in the first place without your amazing keeper skills. You’ve saved countless rockets. We should be up 5–2 if Chase, Ben, and Stephen don’t miss those easy shots.

“Hold your head up. We’re going to need you in the playoffs next week. And remember it’s all just a game. A fun game for kids. You got it?”

“Yes, thanks coach,” Jacob said the slightest of smiles revealed

I know Steve Jardine would be proud that one of his former players received his message loud and clear.

Thanks for reading my tribute to an inspiring coach

Tagging my sports and teacher pals: Scot Butwell, Scott Younkin, Gaurav Jain, Lu Skerdoo, Gerald Sturgill, Sreese, PJ Kaplan, Klara Jane Holloway, Evon, The Sober Vegan Yogi, Deborah Camp, Ginger Cook, Ning Choi, Miss Catherine La Grange, spinster, MarkfromBoston 🌻Ukraine, Jane Kelley, Linda Ng, Kirby Workes, Bernice Puzon, Jordan Pagkalinawan, Darryl Ventura.

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