Zip 'er up, hoist it over my shoulder, wave goodbye to the umps, and stroll off into the sunset. THAT is about my only issue coaching boys' baseball after all these years. The first year I coached baseball, there were skeptics - usually the boys' fathers. The moms just stared as someone who did carpool with them segued into Ms. Jock and showed their sons the finer art of a batter's stance. I learned about baseball from my dad.
Nothing is a given.
The teams I have coached remember me not for my fairness or knowledge of the game - but for my baking. Because each and every one has enjoyed a coach who is a baker. You're on the wrong bench. Definitely puts a positive spin on a negative. Well, chefs who coach or coaches who bake will always manage to blend the confines of the kitchen with the field of dreams.