In the summer of 1980, I was playing baseball with my high school team. At the time, high school baseball coaches were allowed to coach their teams in the summer.
One incident occurred when we were playing the Regional Championship game for a trip to the State Tournament.
As we gathered to run onto the field to stretch, our starting pitcher and right fielder had not arrived, and our coach did not tolerate tardiness.
We knew it was doubtful we’d win without them, so we stalled. A few minutes went by, then our coach looked up from the dugout and screamed, “stretch!”
As we began pregame warmup, a yellow GMC pick-up truck came barreling into the parking lot, sliding to a stop, and slinging gravel all over a row of cars.
We looked over to see our starting pitcher and right fielder scrambling for their equipment out of the back of the truck.
Our coach met them at the gate and told them to go sit in the bleachers and watch the game, because they sure weren’t playing in it.
I will never forget seeing them sitting side by side in their uniforms with tears streaming down their faces for seven innings.
It just so happened the pitcher had pro and college scouts there to watch him pitch since he was quickly becoming a prospect. All the scouts witnessed that day was him sitting in the bleachers crying.
A freshman ended up pitching, and we won the game anyway.
Interesting note: That budding pitching prospect went on to win seven Cy- Young Awards. He credited his high school baseball coach for teaching him how to compete.
While serving as an Athletic Director, I had a successful head coach who was upset with a decision I made. Banging his fist on my desk, he threatened to leave if I did not reverse my decision.
I didn’t reverse it and he left. I posted his job, hired somebody else and we kept winning without him.
We did not cancel the season because he left, we simply hired somebody new.
When I walked into my boss’s office last year to notify her that I was resigning at the end of the school year, she said, “Wow, I hate to see you go.”
She then asked me to put my resignation in writing and posted my job three days later. Last I checked, the district was doing fine without me.
Here’s a poem that I have always found useful.
Indispensable Man
Sometime when you are feeling important, or maybe your ego is in bloom.
Or maybe you take it for granted, you’re the best qualified in the room.
And maybe you think your going, would leave an unfillable hole.
Just listen to these instructions, and see how it humbles your soul.
Take a bucket and fill it with water; put your hand in it up to your wrist.
Pull your hand out and the hole that’s remaining is a measure of how much you’ll be missed.
You may splash all you wish when you enter, you may stir up the water galore.
But stop, and you’ll find that in no time, it looks quite the same as before.
The message here is quite simple; just do the very best you can.
Be proud of yourself but remember, there is no indispensable man.
– Saxon White Kessinger
Without question, do the best you can in your job. Master your craft and become wildly successful. But remember, there is always someone ready and willing to replace you.
Your job is not your life, only part of it. The role of being a parent, a spouse, a sibling, a grandparent, a true friend, cannot be posted on a job site and filled by someone else. In those areas, we are indispensable, and finding a replacement for that job is impossible.
***
Todd Howey is a columnist for BrownwoodNews.com whose articles appear on Fridays. Email comments to [email protected].
