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A Diamond in the Rough
A Diamond in the Rough
A Diamond in the Rough
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A Diamond in the Rough

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Remember your Little League days? Hot summer nights, the dust, the smell of fresh cut grass. This book helps remind fathers that it is more than just a game; it is a model to teach lifelong lessons that will have an impact on your children and others you are coaching for more than a lifetimefor eternity. Can a strike out in the game of baseball truly be a home run in the life lesson category? A dropped fly becomes a teachable moment rather than a moment of despair and frustration. Walk through a few innings with Joseph as he recounts the lessons he learned and taught on the diamondlessons that matter a lifetime.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherWestBow Press
Release dateMar 21, 2016
ISBN9781490894140
A Diamond in the Rough
Author

Joseph L. Shetler

In this book Dr. Shetler combines his passion for his Lord Jesus Christ, baseball, fatherhood, and service to his community in his own unique style. During his coaching career spanning over two decades, he has encountered many opportunities not only to teach the game of baseball but teach the game of life. In this book Dr. Shetler has relied on some interesting stories and nuances of the game to help fathers grasp the real lesson. Dr. Shetler was the senior partner in a rural optometric practice in Nebraska for over twenty-five years. He is currently a professor and clinic chief at Northeastern University Oklahoma College of Optometry in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. Dr. Shetler has two sons, Joshua and Shane. He has been married to his college sweetheart, Karen, for thirty-five years. Dr. Shetler loves people but still seeks the solitude of an Australian Shepherd named Bolder when he just needs someone to listen. Dr. Shetler helps fathers, especially those just starting the journey we call fatherhood, to intentionally teach the lessons their children will need to be successful in their own walk with Christ.

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    Book preview

    A Diamond in the Rough - Joseph L. Shetler

    Copyright © 2016 Joseph L. Shetler.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    WestBow Press

    A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

    1663 Liberty Drive

    Bloomington, IN 47403

    www.westbowpress.com

    1 (866) 928-1240

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    ISBN: 978-1-4908-9413-3 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4908-9415-7 (hc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4908-9414-0 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2015911165

    WestBow Press rev. date: 03/21/2016

    CONTENTS

    Acknowledgments

    Lesson #1      Runaway Helmets

    Lesson #2      Go Home

    Lesson #3      I’ll Finish

    Lesson #4      What Do You Mean Strike?

    Lesson #5      Ambush

    Lesson #6      One-Armed Slugger

    Lesson #7      Step Up to the Plate

    Lesson #8      Passion

    Lesson #9      Fair or Foul

    Lesson #10      Be a Winner

    Lesson #11      Hey Look, There’s a Plane

    Lesson #12      Life’s Little Things

    Lesson #13      Expect the Unexpected

    Lesson #14      Love the Person, Not the Performance

    Lesson #15      Forgive and Forget

    Lesson #16

    Lesson #17      Today is the Day

    Lesson #18      The Most Important Position

    Lesson #19      How to be Miserable

    Lesson #20      Sacrifice Me Home!

    Lesson #21      A Father’s Day Present

    The Final Chapter: Was It Worth It?

    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    I would like to say thanks to my sons for all the lessons they were willing to learn and teach on the diamond. Without their love for the game and interest in their dear ole dad’s teachings, this book would certainly never have been written.

    I’m a father, not a super-father with perfect kids, just a father like millions of other men trying to survive on this globe. I have no special talents or insights regarding fatherhood and relationships with kids. Just like you, I struggle every day with how to get it all done, how to teach my sons to become men, how to love my wife, how to serve our Lord, and how to give adequate time to a demanding career. Today quickly turns into tomorrow, the toddler to a teenager. The seconds to minutes, minutes to hours and hours to years. The time is now to have an impact in your children’s lives.

    Over the last couple of decades, I have rediscovered a game I grew up playing with many fond memories of family, brothers, a few broken windows, and just plain fun. This game has served many purposes for my family and the maturity of my two sons. Baseball, America’s favorite pastime, has forced me to lock my office doors and hurry off to the diamond to practice or coach a thriller down the third base line. It has mandated time with my sons, time that every dad knows goes by way too fast, even during those trying teen years. Baseball has let my players experience some of life’s lessons without the severe consequences they would experience in the real world.

    These lessons are why this book is being written, so I can share with other coaches, players, parents, fans, and specifically, dads about the lessons I have seen and learned on the diamond over the last few years. I hope you will find it an amusing, thoughtful little book that reads easy and possibly brings a smile to your face and a tear to your eye as your remember your Little League days and the precious time with your children that goes by far too quickly.

    Almost anyone who has coached the same number of games as yours truly could certainly write these lessons. There is no magic. What I ask of you as you flip through the upcoming pages is to ask yourself: What is the game truly about: winning and losing or building young men and women of character? Next time you step on that fresh chalk line ask: What impact will what I say and do today have on impressionable young ballplayers? As a player, I would ask myself: Am I coachable? Can I learn the lessons and apply them on and off the diamond?

    Mostly, however, the following chapters are written to and for fathers. What lessons are we teaching? In a world gone mad, where fathers are willing to attack, maim, even kill over a couple of points or runs, the wrong message tends to come through loud and clear. If you are like so many fathers, you have simply given up teaching because the lessons fall on deaf ears. Take heart, for you are not alone. Persistence, persistence, persistence!

    This book is dedicated to the three most influential men in my life: my father, Claren, and my two sons, Joshua and Shane. Dad, they say you have to be a father to truly appreciate your father. I don’t know if that is true but thanks for all the hours you spent coaching sons and keeping the program going in our small Nebraska town. Your soft-spoken nature, wisdom, and sense of priority have played an everlasting role in my life.

    I would also like to thank my three brothers, John, Jerry, and Jesse. Throughout life, although now separated by many miles, our memories as well as our hopes and dreams have kept us tightly bound together. Thanks for all the hours you spent playing ball with me and watching ball together. Even now, the windows we shattered with an errant baseball together take on a new meaning.

    To my grandsons, Jack Creighton and Clyde Joseph, I hope the stories told in the next few pages by your grandfather will bring to life your dads’ passion for the game. You, my grandsons, have inherited a precious name and an outstanding legacy, use it wisely.

    Karen, my college sweetheart and lifelong partner, thanks for loving me and for giving me strength when mine was gone. All those sunburns you endured keeping the stats, all those discussions about what we should have done, or could have done better, on and off the diamond. You truly demonstrate sacrificial love on a daily basis. You are my angel, and without you, literally none of this is possible. Thanks for doing life with me.

    As I contemplate who else to acknowledge in this section, it seems that the list could go on and on: the boys and girls who played for me that have now gone on to have careers and children of their own, the small businesses on main street that continually reached deep into their pockets to support the program, and the parents who entrusted their children to me during the season. Suffice it to say that I give a home run thank you to the community of Gordon, Nebraska. There is, however, one member of the community I would be remiss if I did not mention by name: Fred Hlava, Gordon’s city manager for over thirty years. He is, on a more personal level, a friend like no other and a supporter of baseball with a can-do attitude. We needed new vans, and Fred creatively figured out a way to buy them on our very limited budget. When we needed new lights, Fred solved that problem. If we needed new uniforms, somehow Fred could make it happen. When I was discouraged about a season, a player, my coaching abilities, or a rough relationship with a parent, Fred was always, and I mean always, there to remind me why we do it. Thanks, Fred. Your friendship means the world to me.

    I would also like to take just a moment of your time to mention my mother, Sandra. She was a pillar in times of struggle and a purveyor of pride and love like no other. Even thirty years after she lost her gallant battle with cancer, her courage and compassion for others affect me every day. I love you, Mom.

    LESSON #1

    Runaway Helmets

    Having just moved to a new community, I was eager to get my young son registered for the local baseball league. Although he had not yet started school, he had already been trained in the art of throwing and hitting. Joshua and I had spent many a summer night, and some spring and fall ones as well, preparing for the time when he would be old enough to play. A plastic bat and ball had been the gift of choice at his first birthday party. I knew, as all proud fathers have known for generations, that he was bound for the majors, the big show, if only he had the right coaching, so we anxiously awaited the opening day of Tee-ball.

    It’s hard to forget his big smile that May afternoon when he received his first uniform. It was a well-used, royal blue uniform with stripes on the sleeves, and across the back in white letters read the name of the sponsor, First National Bank, followed by the slogan, Your Friendly Hometown Bank Oh, what a glorious day. The little brown vinyl glove was ready—ready for what? That was the big question.

    His coaches were two wonderful ladies, mothers of a couple of his teammates. They believed in Band-Aids and Popsicles after practice. I am, to this day, not convinced that they have a competitive bone in their bodies.

    Despite my busy schedule at the office, I would occasionally sneak away just to watch my son hit off the tee at practice. As I would lean against the car, tired after another long day of seeing patients, I would watch this little team practice. And what would my eyes behold? Kids actually enjoying themselves and the game, players giving each other high-fives for nothing, and coaches giving players congratulatory hugs just for reaching first base. Keep in mind that in Tee-ball, where very few players can throw, let alone catch, safely arriving at first base is not a world-class accomplishment. After forty-five minutes of strenuous activity, the little energetic ballplayers were rewarded for their efforts with Popsicles and words of encouragement.

    I usually moved from my car to the dugout as practice neared completion to help my son round up his gear. I remember thinking, What’s this? No yelling, no laps, no motivational speeches to conclude the practice? Not even some good old-fashioned constructive criticism? Band-Aids and Popsicles—I could do better. Thus began my illustrious career as a Little League coach.

    The following year,

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