Leaving (R)

I told them I was leaving on a Thursday. I anticipated the conversation for months, but was awaiting the nod from my wife in order to give notice. Being a "now" position as she called it, the possibility for a reversal was always in play at anytime prior to wheels up for Beijing. I let Roger know weeks earlier, and it was his thinking that I should announce the departure on the last day of school prior to Winter Break. Announce and run didn't seem like my style, but with his years of experience as principal, he certainly had more understanding of these matters than I did, so I obliged.

As I offered my daily goodbye to the final English class of the afternoon, the overhead speaker crackled the announcement. "Will all varsity baseball players please report to room 121 for a brief meeting after school." I wonder if Roger or Carolyn, my department head and confidante, also felt the tension of that moment. I sure did. Although I felt well rehearsed for my moment, the pleasant voice of Mrs. Mesick ringing through the old walls of FHS awoke me to the reality that in just moments I would be standing face to face with these lads - boys I considered my own. We shared a common cause, private conversations, wins and losses; this was a team - my team. I had preached to them dedication, commitment, responsibilty to the team; moreover, I told each of them that I would be there for him forever, baseball or not, for the rest of my life. And here I was preparing to tell them I was out, just weeks before the opening day of the season.

As they filed in, backpacks hanging over one shoulder, sharing the normal, "sup, coach," which charactarized our usual greetings, I replied with a pursed-lip smile and quick head nod; they knew something was up. I quickly resumed pointlessly shuffling the items on my desk as the last guys took their places around the room.

A deep inhale followed by a puffed-cheek exhale.

Guys, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my coaching carreer..." I carried on, telling them that personally, and as a family, we were excited for our opportunity. I told them how proud I was of what we had accomplished at FHS and how I planned to follow them for the rest of the their careers.

Silence, utter silence.

Jordan looked from the floor with a smug smile, a slight shake of his head as words choked in his throat. Joey's jaw fell open, a disbelieving grin showing on his teeth. Robbie just stared.

Sean was the first to break the silence. "That's so fucking cool, coach!" My head immediatley decompressed  hearing his crass, yet true, words. A relieved smile leaked accross my face then began to spread around the room. Subtle nods of agreement slowly escalated into a few hands oustretched in my direction. Then the first hug, that man-hug that we had perfected after big wins out at Athey field - a handshake clasped in front and a hefty one-armed slap on the back.

One hundred times I spoke this conversation, in my head, in my car, in the arms of my wife, and each one had a different outcome and emotional consequence: angry stares, slamming doors, tearful pleas. Sean's reaction and what followed, was one that I had not planned on nor predicted. I was proud of them, but the signifcance I felt most strongly in that moment was that they too were proud of me.