My Hall of Fame Experiences

I have written here before on the numerous great experiences I’ve been able to have thanks to the game of baseball. Whether as a player, coach, fan, or member of the media, the game has continually given back to me over the years.

With Ken Griffey, Jr. and Mike Piazza being elected into the baseball Hall of Fame yesterday, it brought back a couple more memories.
In my time as a freelance sports writer with the Associated Press’ bureau in Washington, D.C., I was able to cover a number of Nationals, Redskins and Wizards games. A few experiences at those games stand out. The first took place on August 25, 2005 (my brother’s birthday), during the Nationals’ first season in Washington after moving from Montreal.
A little background on what my role was while covering these games. The AP has two reporters at each game, one a staff writer, and the other a freelancer. As the freelancer, my responsibility during the games was to keep a scorebook, feed interesting notes and stats to the writer for them to potentially add to their game story, and at times write a sidebar story if something of note occurred during the game. After the game, we split up interview responsibilities, generally with the staff writer heading to the home clubhouse and the freelancer to the visitor clubhouse. At RFK Stadium, where the Nationals originally played before Nationals Park opened, this required hustling down the concourse ramp, dodging drunk fans and getting to the clubhouse prior to them opening up to the media. (Thankfully, Nationals Park has an elevator to take media downstairs.)
Like many kids who grew up playing ball in the 90s, I idolized Griffey, who everyone knew and still knows as Junior. I loved how he played the game with the Willie Mays smile on his face, how everything seemed so effortless to him, whether it was his perfect swing or gliding to rob someone of extra bases in the outfield.
Anyway, on this particular date in 2005, Griffey had hit his 30th home run of the season as a member of the Reds, the first time he had done so since the 2000 season after battling injuries for a number of years. As the media contingent walked into the clubhouse, he was heading in to get treatment from their trainer, and a light-hearted exchange occurred where he chided a Cincinnati beat writer who had posed the question in a preseason column if he would ever eclipse 30 homers again.
Once he returned from getting treatment, he took questions from the media. Now keep in mind that I was still relatively young and very nervous about asking one of my childhood heroes a question in an interview session that was being broadcast on television. I was hoping, praying, that one of the other reporters would present the question I was tasked by the AP’s staff writer to ask, so I wouldn’t have to. They didn’t. So after the session wrapped and the reporters moved on, I stayed and at this point in a sweat, asked Junior if I could grab him for one last question.
I remember it well, Griffey smiled and said, ‘Of course’, and then I asked him my question (no, I can’t remember what it was) as well as a couple follow-up questions to get the quote I was looking for. Throughout my maybe two-minute exchange with him, I wanted very badly to turn my notepad around and ask if he’d sign it for me. But I knew it was a big no-no and ethically against everything I had been taught in journalism classes in school and had learned in my time as a reporter, so I didn’t. Regardless, what a great experience and story.
That same year, as is the case whenever a team from a big market like New York is in town, I was asked to get to a game a couple hours early to sit in on the pregame manager’s presser, this time with Mets manager Willie Randolph (who was an All-Star in his own right in the 1970s and 80s with the Yankees). I arrived about 30 minutes before the interview was supposed to begin, took a seat on the couch in the Mets’ locker room and began watching ESPN on the TV. A few minutes later, someone sat down next to me and began tying his shoes. I was nervous that I wasn’t supposed to be sitting there and was about to get kicked off the couch, so tried my best not to make eye contact.
Then the guy says, “You have a team?” as highlights from the previous night’s NBA games are broadcast on SportsCenter. I look over and it’s Tom Glavine, who was then 39 years old and wrapping up a career that led to an induction in the Hall of Fame in 2014. We spoke for a few minutes and then he said he had to go, popped up and I assume with shorts and sneakers on went out to get in some running on the field on one of his off days. Here was a guy who won over 300 games, two Cy Young Awards, and I couldn’t believe two things: how he wasn’t much bigger than me, and how nice of a dude he was.
After that game, I was in a group interview session with Piazza, who was then 36 and in the midst of his final All-Star season with the Mets. I remember two things from that experience. First, how approachable and media-friendly the guy was. Secondly, how bad a body he had for a professional athlete. I was used to being in NFL, NBA and MLB locker rooms where most of the guys are muscle-bound and chiseled. Piazza looked like the old hairy Italian guy with the big belly you'd see on the beach. Except that old hairy Italian guy with the belly on the beach probably didn’t hit 427 home runs and make 12 All-Star teams.
Those experiences with Griffey, Glavine and Piazza taught me two things about baseball players that resonates today. First, that for the most part, even the best of the best are great guys, and not the arrogant pricks that they can sometimes be portrayed as. And second, at least in the case of Glavine and Piazza, that you don’t necessarily need to be built like Bryce Harper and be able to run like Dee Gordon to succeed in this game.
For someone who was once a kid enamoured with these guys and then a big kid who got to meet them, those were just a couple cool experiences out of many I have had while involved in the game.

A Life With Rocky, and His Latest Message

Balboa-Drago II at Kappa Sigma's Hairy Buffalo
Party in 2000 didn't live up to the original. 

The first one, probably the best of the series, was released three years before I was born. Then came the second, third and fourth installments, each three years apart, culminating with everyone’s favorite American underdog pulling off the impossible in the most hostile of Cold War-era environments … the Soviet Union.  

Even if the fifth chapter of the Rocky saga kinda bombed, and the sixth was a bit of a stretch when the AARP version of the Italian Stallion went the distance with the current Heavyweight champ, I remained hooked. Rocky Balboa may have been a fictional creation of Sylvester Stallone, but he was very much one of my heroes.
I’m not sure if I have made it through a workout or a run without playing at least one song from the numerous Rocky soundtracks, usually ‘Eye of the Tiger’, ‘Go For It’ or ‘Training Montage’. I’ve probably shadowboxed 1,000 rounds in my lifetime while watching the fight scenes against Apollo Creed, Clubber Lang and Ivan Drago. When I was in my mid- and late-20s, the first thing I would show someone in my bedroom was a foot-tall Rocky figurine my buddy Brian got me that would shout famous lines and throw punches when you pushed a button at his feet. I'm pretty sure it scared off a couple potential girlfriends.
Heck, I even went as Rocky for a Halloween party in college. A handful of beers later, I was throwing featherweight blows with my buddy, Forrest, who had gone as Drago, as the ‘crowd’ at the party formed a makeshift ring around us.
Some of my favorite memories growing up were ‘Rock-a-thon’s’ with my brother and Brian. Our mothers just shook their heads, but kept the soda and popcorn coming as we sat, screamed, laughed and created as much havoc as possible through nearly 10 hours of Rocky. We haven’t gotten together for one since the sixth version, ‘Rocky Balboa’, hit theatres in 2006, but you’d better believe one day we will with our kids at our side.
Rocky is the ‘Star Wars’ of sports movies. Most great films can grab the hearts of one or maybe two generations, and then fade. When ‘Creed’, which can be looked at as either the seventh installment or a spin off of the series, hit theatres last month, it did so to packed theatres and a fourth generation of fans. What Sly created in 1976, remains as strong as ever 40 years later.
Mickey, Apollo, Adrian, Paulie - four character staples in the series - have passed away. Balboa looks more Grandpa than Heavyweight Champ now. The popularity of boxing in today’s sports world has waned. All solid reasons for the Rocky dynasty to stay retired.
But the introduction of Apollo’s son in ‘Creed’ has breathed life into Rocky, figuratively when it comes to proving the brand can still generate a buzz and pack theatres, but also literally in the case of Balboa the character, who was ready to give in to cancer before the younger Creed pushed him to fight, much like Mickey had done in Rocky I and II, like Apollo did after Rocky lost to Mr. T’s character in Rocky III, and how Adrian had when she showed up during his training in Rocky IV.
There’s an underlying message here that hasn’t been mentioned much throughout all the hoopla, interviews and articles I’ve read about ‘Creed’. As amazing as Rocky’s story of perseverance has been, as lasting the images are of his runs up the steps in Philadelphia and through the snow-covered mountains in the then-Soviet Union, and as motivating as the training montages and his fights with Creed, Lang, Drago and Mason Dixon were, the underdog of all underdogs continues to give when we thought he had nothing more to give.
But he couldn’t do it alone. He needed a great support group to gain that additional strength to topple bigger, stronger, more talented foes. As a coach, it will serve as another great analogy to use when trying to motivate a player or team. As special as he was, there’s no chance Rocky Balboa becomes an icon without the positive energy, support and motivation he gained from those around him.
He probably would have been just another Tommy Gunn. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)
I’m not sure if ‘Creed’ marks the end of the Rocky saga. But if it does, it leaves us with an outstanding message for anyone looking to overcome an obstacle in life. Don't go at it alone. Lean on those around you to provide that additional boost while you reach for the stars.
Thank you, Sly, for giving us as real a fictional character as has ever been dreamed up. Anyone who has grown up with Rocky as a part of our lives is surely a better person for it.

The Morning Battle of the Bathtub

It's a daily battle, something I now consider a challenge when I rise and prepare to attack the day. There have been small victories, there have been numerous defeats, and with each win or loss, I'm hoping, comes a valuable learning experience.

I've been back living in Europe now for over two weeks, and my hybrid bathtub/shower continues to be an enigma to me. The rather oddly-shaped acrylic tub of terror looms large each morning as I sit and eat breakfast, fearing another failed attempt of making it through with both myself and the bathroom emerging unscathed. 

Climbing in and out of the 3-foot tall structure has to be done with caution, as one misstep or a wet portion of the tub or bathroom floor could result in a stumble or tumble and cause my bathroom prowess and confidence to continue to crumble. 

Like anyone with an athlete's or competitive mentality, you measure success in wins and losses. If that's the case, I'm working at about a .500 clip right now. That's maybe good enough to win the NFC East, but not a great way to start your day.

I have so many questions that still need to be answered, chief among them: 

Where do you put the shower head while you apply shampoo and soap? I've resorted to pinning it between my legs so it won't flop around on the floor of the tub like a runaway firehose. That just doesn't feel natural, especially in the couple of instances where the water pressure forced the shower head to flip and shoot hot water up my ... well you get the point. And the whole holding the shower head while trying to apply shampoo with one hand thing hasn't worked well, either. 

How do I keep the water IN the tub, and not all over the bathroom? I've gotten much better, but early on there were several instances where it looked like a rainstorm had blown through my bathroom. I keep reminding myself, while rinsing off, caution needs to be taken to ensure the water is pointed towards the wall so I'm not hosing down the bathroom. A wet bathroom floor is a treacherous bathroom floor, so I have discovered.

I know women here generally lay in the tub, or simply take a bath. Problem solved. But I'm not a bath kind of person, and I'm not sure how many men are. It's been suggested that I can go to IKEA, where I can find something to mount the shower head with, and find a curved shower rod and curtain. Is that acceptable? Or would it just drum up more bad cleansing karma, taking the easy way out?

Still so many questions, and the pursuit of answers and victory in the battle of the bathtub will wage on. Enjoy your standing showers, people. Enjoy mounted shower heads, dry floors, and confident strides into and out of your showers. I will win this battle, and rejoin you all in your baño bliss!

Running With Uncle Chris

Many of you who read this blog knew my Uncle Chris. One of the five Kamide brothers who grew up in Carthage, N.Y., he served with the Army in the war in the middle east, worked as a school teacher and a school board member, spent years as a high school and collegiate basketball referee, and above all else, was a great father to my cousins, Chris, Gabbi and Alyssa.

Uncle Chris and I shared a number of similarities. Like each of my uncles on both sides of my family, we shared a passion for sports. He enjoyed watching Syracuse football and hoops, his Dolphins, grew up a baseball fan, and jumped on the lacrosse bandwagon when his kids advanced on to play at the high school and collegiate levels.

Everyone said we looked a lot alike, we both - like my cousin Nate - battled Crohn's Disease, and both of us enjoyed going for a recreational run to keep in shape and get our mind off the daily grind and stress we had in our lives.

When Uncle Chris passed away in April 2013, it hit our family pretty hard. He was only 48-years-old, with young children who had yet to hit the prime of their lives. He had so much to offer this world, and for nearly five decades, he had done so with a big smile on his face and an energy and passion for life that I always noticed whenever I was around him. Just a couple years earlier, he had run in a marathon in Las Vegas to fundraise for the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America, and I had helped organize a fundraiser here in Northern Virginia for his cause. 

A few of his personal belongings were passed to members of the family, and since he and I had the same shoe size, I was given a pair of essentially brand new Nike running shoes of his. This, I told myself, couldn't be a more perfect opportunity for me to honor my uncle. I have had the opportunity via baseball to do a lot of traveling, and in the 28 months since his passing, have taken those running shoes with me to all parts of the country and to Europe for runs. I've worn his shoes for jogs here in Virginia, in upstate New York, in New York City, in South Carolina, in Georgia, and in Europe in Hungary, Germany, Austria, Slovakia and the Czech Republic. 

I don't know the exact mileage, but it's well over 200 miles I've run in Uncle Chris' shoes. Every time I tie the shoes before heading out for my run, I think of him. And I think of my cousins, who are without their father. Something I could not comprehend. 

And then there is the irony of the shoes being Nike. My grandfather owned a shoe store in Carthage for over four decades, 'Faye's Boot Shop', and the only brand of sneakers he sold were Nike. So until his passing in 1996, that's all the Kamide family wore. Each summer, we knew we'd get a new pair of kicks for the school year, and each winter, a new pair of basketball sneakers. The fact that Uncle Chris, like many of us in the family, still swore by Nikes, was just another example of the tightness of the family, and the loyalty shown to Grandpa whenever it was time for a new pair of sneakers.

That loyalty exists whenever I look at these two pairs of sneakers I inherited from my Uncle Chris. There are days where I don't feel like going for a run. I've got a bunch on my plate. I'm hungover. I had a big breakfast, and don't feel like cramping up a mile into it. I didn't get much sleep, and the snooze button on my phone or alarm looked very appealing. I won't lie and tell you the thought of Uncle Chris and the shoes forces me to go on that run every time, I unfortunately don't have that type of will power. But he and the shoes are working at about a 75 percent clip right now, and I'm in pretty good shape. A big reason for that is there is a part of me that says get off your butt and go make your uncle proud.

I know you're up there resting in peace, Uncle Chris. We all miss you very much. And I'll keep running until these things fall apart. And keep thinking of you each time I lace them up. 

Goulash and Baseball

We jumped straight from our flight, onto the bus, and over to the Prague
Castle, where our 42-person contingent toured the St. Vitus Cathedral.

Centuries-old culture, history and cuisine, chased with great-tasting (and ridiculously inexpensive) beer and maybe a couple scoops of Gelato. Toss in some (at times rugged) baseball, an ever-prompt tour guide, a muscle-bound bus driver, and our 42-member contingent of players, coaches and parents from Northern Virginia had their seven-day, five-game, four-country baseball trek through the Czech Republic, Austria, Slovakia and Hungary.

Thanks to the MVP International Athletics program, I had the opportunity earlier this month to travel to Europe for a third consecutive summer with a team from our area, this time a group of 13-15 year-olds and three high school head coaches from Northern Virginia; Madison’s Pudge Gjormand, South Lakes’ Morgan Spencer and Langley’s Kevin Healy.

These trips we take overseas are not as much about wins and losses on the baseball field as they are learning about how cultures were formed and have evolved, have succeeded or failed throughout the centuries, often times dating back to the Medieval Ages and even the Roman Empire. Since Pudge and Matt Foley first began organizing international trips some 7-8 years ago, players from our area have visited countries such as Germany, Italy, Spain, the Dominican Republic, and the four Central European nations we toured this month. Next week, another team will head to Puerto Rico.

Those who have followed this blog know that I have caught the travel bug, a result of my being born on a U.S. Army base in Germany, a family vacation to Europe years ago, and an 18-month stint where I lived and coached overseas. Though my travels, I’ve gained an awesome appreciation for the cultures in Europe. I love trying the varying cuisines, whether it’s the great pasta and breads in Italy, the spicy dishes in Hungary, trying the differing versions of Goulash in Germany/Austria, the Czech Republic and Hungary, sampling the sangria in Spain, debating which country brews the best beer, and of course, delving into my favorite European dish, the Czech Republic’s Svickova (I know, I’m missing the accents over the letters!).

It’s one thing to study world history, it’s another to witness in person where that history took place. Every trip, I’ve found myself sounding very much like my mother when she took my brother, sister and I overseas years ago when I tell players to pay attention during the guided tours of of castles, cathedrals and museums. I get it, you’re in middle school or about to start high school, you’d probably rather be paintballing or pounding your buddy in Halo or Gears of War than staring at stain glass windows in a 500-year-old church. But I tell them how impressed their history teacher would be when they get back to school next month and tell them stories of what they saw, or better yet, should they hand in a paper on it for some extra credit to start off the semester (I know, slim to no chance any of them do that!).

And then there’s the baseball. We get to see an awesome variety of fields and facilities, the parents love the fact that they serve beer at the games (FCPS, there’s an easy fix to the budget problem!), and what an experience for our guys to face youth national teams. Seeing ‘AUSTRIA’ or ‘HUNGARY’ across your opponent’s chest has a bit more meaning in the grand scheme of one’s baseball career than ‘MCLEAN’ or ‘WESTFIELD’. Don’t get me wrong, I want to beat those guys as well, but competing against a team representing a country is pretty special. Then being able to swap caps or shirts after games with those players? That’s pretty cool.

I certainly appreciate the opportunity that has been presented to me with these trips. My hope is that the players have as well, and that the parents have re-hydrated after all those half-liters of Kozel, Pilsner Urquell, Soproni and whatever else happened to be on tap at the clubhouses. That Atto, our tour guide, returns to Germany to a successful acting career. And that Miro, our Ivan Drago-lookalike at the bus’ helm, doesn’t body slam the next Fiat that cuts him off.

Until next time, Europe.

Partying, Dating, Staying Fit: Not Easy in Your 30s

"Organic" and "Less Fat". For those
in our 30s, now a major part of our
daily diet vocabulary. 

Remember the days when you could go out for a few beers with your buddies, down some late-night McDonald's, catch a few hours of sleep, bounce out of bed for work in the morning, and hit the gym on the way home? Then get a call from one of those same pals to try and aim to repeat the previous night's escapades? 

Your weight never budged. Abs? Check out THESE abs. Too hungover to meet up for pickup hoops on a Saturday morning? Heck no, I've got at least 10 runs in me, bro, and you wish you had this smooth as silk jump shot!

Remember when meeting a potential significant other was like taking candy from a baby? Spot a hottie, jump on the dance floor at the house party or bar, shake ya tail feather ( <-- link ) to grab their attention, then switch on the charm. Game over. 

For guys, approaching women was easy. They were younger and not necessarily on that Hunt for Hubby quite yet. They didn't mind our shaggy hair, earring (editor's note: never had one), grubby hat we probably had on backwards, the $5 'Dukes of Hazzard' T-shirt from Target, and the fact that we probably hadn't shaved in five days.  

The first 'date' probably consisted of inviting her over to hang out with the roommates, watch football for like seven hours on a Sunday, order up some pizza, and hope she didn't mind the wrestling match that would inevitably break out between your meathead buddies. 

Those days, for those in our 30s, are officially over. 

If I go out for drinks now, it's about a 48-hour recovery period. And I'm such a lightweight that I have to designate a friend to 'red light' me after a few drinks before I go embarrass myself on the dance floor or try and pick a fight with the biggest guy in the bar. For the record, I'm going on four weeks without either of those incidents occurring. Win. 

Once you hit 30, you enter your own 'Battle of the Bulge'. That high level of metabolism you used to enjoy? Haha. Gone. Ordering at a restaurant? The first expression that comes to mind is "portion control". You actually read the fine print on the food at the grocery store. You become familiar with terms like 'low fat' and 'sugar free'. 

I really enjoy the gym, and I've gotten back into running lately, helping me to drop 15 pounds (with 10 more to go!). But that trip to the gym that used to be when time allowed, is now a requirement if you want to avoid shopping for new, larger pants every six months. And the gym habits us men developed at a younger age, where it was all about pounding out reps on the bench press and with biceps curls, we've had to break now that our workouts need more balance with plenty of cardio and core mixed in. 

And dating? Let's just say I envy my buddies that met someone at a younger age and have already started families. It's not easy to meet someone you'd like to date, and especially not easy to meet that person you'd want to spend the rest of your life with. 

Bars are the worst for this. They're loud, and women are often unapproachable as they have their guards up after being chased around by flocks of D-bags every weekend for years. And even if you are a woman who is single and approachable, there's a good chance the good guys are gun-shy about coming up to say hello, for fear of an embarrassing rejection. 

I spent years as a bartender, so I like to think I can get a pretty good read on females, and people in general. Guys, when women surround themselves with their girls on the dance floor, they're not available, or at the very least not looking to meet someone that night. So don't force your way into that dance party. And if you buy her a drink, there's a good chance she was just being polite when you offered. It doesn't necessarily mean you're in, dude. The success rate of a long-term relationship with someone you met in a bar is very low. Look elsewhere. 

Online dating? I tried it once, but never trusted the validity of it. And to be honest with you, I have always held out hope I'd meet that someone special by chance when we both had our guards down. Not based on how hot they looked in a profile picture. 

I've dated women that I've met at the gym, in a grocery store, at Starbucks, and even at the workplace. But seriously, who wants to be on the prowl when you're working out, shopping for bread and cereal, grabbing a cup of coffee or when you have your head buried in your computer at work? 

For men, most of the women our age are married. Which means we often date women who are younger. But how much younger is too young? Or what about the divorcee with the 2-year-old? Am I ready to jump into something with those additional elements? They're legitimate questions that single guys ask themselves all the time. 

One thing I've accepted is that meeting someone will happen when it happens. You can't force that. In using an analogy coaches often use with their athletes, life is a marathon, it's not a sprint. If you're in a rush, there's a good chance you will make bad decisions. 

In the meantime, I'll keep on battling the bulge, will try to hide when shots of Fireball start flying in hopes of avoiding any potential dance floor disasters, and will reminisce fondly about the good old days, when everything seemed to come so much easier. 

Continue to fight the good fight, fellow 30-somethings. Continue the good fight. 

May is 'Winning Time' in High School Baseball

Teams lean on seniors such as Tommy Lopez, who
was the player of the year in our conference, once
the high school postseason begins in May. 

The weather is finally warming up, the Memorial Day holiday is just around the corner, and conference tournaments are in full swing with teams vying for league championships and a spot in the regional and then state tournament.

That can only mean one thing, it's May: otherwise known as 'Winning Time'.

Every year, teams wrap their offseason preparation in late January or early February, begin practices around President's Day, battle through late winter weather conditions that often extend into the spring, head south for Spring Break tournaments, then come back and battle for seeding in their league tournament.

A 20-game regular season, really a snapshot of a season when considering players are often playing 75-100 game a year between their high school and travel ball schedules, and it all comes down to single-elimination tournaments in public school baseball. Seven innings, 21 outs, sometimes getting your top hitters to the plate just three times with your season on the line, all for the opportunity to survive and advance to play another day.

For a lot of players - correction, for the majority of the players - they'll never play the game again, at least competitively. Making a run to a championship - the majority of our players at Oakton High School listed winning last year's Concorde District title as their favorite high school memory in our media guide this year - is paramount in the athletic careers of the vast majority of prep athletes that pull on a uniform.

A perfect example? My alma mater, Herndon High School, and a school I used to coach at, Centreville High School, battled into extra innings before Herndon walked away with an upset victory, 1-0, last night. It was a conference quarterfinal game (with the winner clinching a regional berth), but it felt like it could have been a state championship with the amount of emotion, nerves and sweaty palms among the players, coaches and fans in attendance. I loved every minute of it.

We play tomorrow in the semifinals of our conference tournament. We've locked up a regional berth by virtue of winning the regular season title, but there's an absolute sense of unfinished business among our group of guys. They know they're the defending league champions and have won it two of the past three years, so there's a bit of a target on their backs. And they're OK with that. They also know of the great tradition we have at Oakton, and they want to have their names mentioned 5, 10, 20 years down the road like the alumni who played a role in building that tradition. They want that banner of their own.

And it will be our seniors who will have to carry them to that championship. Four-year guys who don't want their high school careers to end. You don't get that in some levels of sports, such as college basketball, where the top guys are done playing after a year or two. In high school athletics, guys come in as 14- or 15-year-old boys and walk away as 18-year-old men, having grown up before our eyes. That is just another example of why high school athletics are great.

All our guys know it. Our coaches know it. Girlfriends, wives, etc., will put up with us being on edge for a few more weeks. Some of us may sleep in our uniforms. Deal with it.

It's winning time, the best time of the year.

Coaches Need Balance Before Burning Out

Winning is always fun. But finding balance on that journey to victory is
something that coaches, myself included, need to do a better job of. 

The news in the past week that two NFL coaches, John Fox of the Denver Broncos and Gary Kubiak of the Houston Texans, suffered health-related incidents that likely occurred as a result of overwork and has forced them from the sideline surely strikes home for coaches at all levels of sports.

Long gone are the days where professional athletes spent their offseason vacationing, eating unhealthy and avoiding anything resembling a gym or playing field. Even amateur athletes at the youth and prep level rarely play more than two sports once they get to high school. There's simply too much pressure for them to keep up with their peers by lifting weights, visiting personal instructors and trainers and attending showcase events during the "offseason". 

Starting at the lowest of levels, for instance in Little League baseball, kids are dragged all over their state and region playing upwards of 100 games a year, then are signed up for indoor hitting and pitching lessons and clinics when it gets too cold to play outside. Once they're old enough to lift weights, they hop under the squat rack or onto the bench press, otherwise know they will fall behind kids they're competing with for playing time, for that all-conference selection, and eventually for that athletic scholarship. 

And the pressure of keeping up isn't just an athlete issue, it's also a major coaching issue. Coaches at the youth and high school levels no longer show up on the first day of tryouts or practice interested to see what they'll have that season. More than likely, they've already got a pretty good idea who will be their middle linebacker, back-up point guard, or three-hole hitter in the lineup thanks to an "offseason" spent working with their kids in something that no longer can be referred to as a hobby, but in a lot of cases as a second full-time job. 

I once had a prominent prep football coach in my area tell me that he felt he couldn't take two weeks off after the season ended, because his program would have already fallen behind their opponents. Coaching now more than ever is a year-round commitment, and I see examples of its affect on coaches every year while coaching at the high school level. Just look at your local high school, and tell me how long the football or basketball head coach has been there. Likely not 20 or 25 years, like in past generations. Coaching tenures are more likely to end after five years now than 25 years. 

What happened with Fox and Kubiak this week, coaches at every level are susceptible to. For coaches at all levels, there is the pressure of their ownership, their administration, their community or from parents of their players to win games, and to do so while getting their players enough playing time to keep everyone happy. And that doesn't include the added pressure for the highly-paid professional and (some) collegiate coaches to live up to their contracts. 

As a result, coaches are constantly eating fast food on the go, not getting enough sleep, falling out of their workout routines, putting relationships with family on the back burner, in a nutshell letting their physical and mental health go to heck. 

There's a balance that coaches nowadays need to find. I know the incidents with Fox and Kubiak this week have opened my eyes. After watching Kubiak collapse on the field on Sunday night, I told myself, 'I don't want that to be me someday'. 

In reflecting on my time coaching these past couple of years, I didn't smile enough and enjoy myself, my players and my coaches because I was too concerned with developing the players and winning games; spent too much of my free time away from the field on administrative tasks related to my team; stayed up too late at nights preparing for or reflecting on games; skipped too many workouts because I was too tired to go to the gym on my way home after games or practices; didn't plan meals accordingly so I wouldn't have to swing by Burger King on the way home; and probably could have found more balance between my coaching and my family and social schedule. 

I'll always have the drive to succeed on the field, to develop players, to win games. But now I'm going to seek a way to do that while also living a healthier lifestyle. All you coaches out there who are in similar shoes should follow suit. 

Praha, Hockey Town

Some Lev Praha fans on the Jumbotron at O2 Arena in Prague.

Even I can only take so much baseball. Seamheads need balance in their lives like anyone. But no, I’m not talking about delving into political debates, picking up interior design, or taking a cooking class.

I’m talking about getting a different sports fix, of course. Can’t be getting too multi-dimensional now, lest I become more of the marrying type and less Joe Single.

With that in mind, and after months and months of baseball-related blogs, I decided to give everyone a break and introduce you to what has to be one of the most hockey-mad cities (and countries) in the world.

Three major hockey clubs call Prague home, longtime bitter rivals Slavia Praha and Sparta Praha from the Czech Extraliga; and now, Lev Praha, which is in its first year in the Russian-based Kontinental Hockey League. Nearly 200 Czech-born players have played in the NHL, and the country’s national team won the Olympic Gold Medal in 1998, the first year NHL players were allowed to play. The country has a buzz when it’s Extraliga finals take place early in the spring, and the tension could be felt in this region when the Czech Republic and Slovakia, which used to comprise the former Czechoslovakia, squared off in the semifinals of the World Championships in May.  

Last week, I managed to finagle press credentials and went to see Lev Praha host CSKA Moscow. Both of the teams, like most in the KHL, are chalked-full of NHL players who are currently locked out in their labor dispute.

The game itself was much like going to an NHL game, though the fans of each team had several chants they do in unison, which gave it a college basketball kind of atmosphere. Red was everywhere (it seems every team in Europe has some form of red in their color scheme), and so was what seemed to be a ridiculously large police presence, with most of them in full tactical gear, ready for a riot to break out between the passionate fans.

After literally dodging the Zamboni as it came off the ice while searching for the area where I was credentialed to sit, I wandered around the concourse to see what the prices were for food and beer. As everyone knows back home, you’re looking at $8 or so for a beer and at least $5 for a hot dog or sandwich when you go to a professional sports event. It was refreshing to see that the prices at the arena weren’t much more than you’d pay anywhere else in the city. Forty Czech koruna (about $2 USD) would get you a beer, and food wasn’t much more expensive than that. Take notes, Daniel Snyder.

During the breaks between the three periods, it was literally a mass exodus towards the concession stands and restrooms. Czechs do drink the most beer per capita of any country in the world, after all, and what better way to drown away another loss by the home club than to suck down another Pilsner Urquell or Staropromen.

Lev Praha took another loss, their seventh straight and ninth in 10 games, but the arena was remained packed until the end, with over 14,000 fans in attendance. Kladno, a Czech Extraliga team located about a half-hour outside of Prague and the home club of Jaromir Jagr, set an arena record with over 17,000 the previous weekend, and Lev Praha set a KHL record with a crowd of over 16,000 when Alexander Ovechkin and his Dynamo Moscow team visited a couple weeks ago. So, in case you were still wondering, yes, they like their puck over here.

Admittedly, I’ve never been a huge fan of hockey; I’ve always been your typical (American) football, baseball, and basketball guy. But I might have gotten hooked after attending the game, and next up on the wish list will be to someday attend a Slavia-Sparta game, which I’ve been told can get pretty intense – on the ice and in the stands. Think Cowboys-Redskins on ice.

I’d love to watch some more games while home over the winter, but thanks to the second millionaires (players) vs. billionaires (owners) squabble this decade, it looks like this newest sports fix of mine may have to resume when I come back east in a few months.

Until then, see ya around, puckheads.

Click here for more photos from the game.

Cheers, Mate

A couple blokes enjoying the Prague night life.

It's hard to believe our season is over, and our import player, Andrew, is heading home soon to return to work and suit up again with his home club, Southern District of the South Australian Baseball League, which has just begun their season.

I thanked him at our team party last night, but figured at thank you was also blog-worthy for a guy who in addition to being one of our top players this past season, also became the best friend I had while in the Czech Republic, a makeshift assistant coach at times who helped with the development of some of our young players, and someone who helped me keep an even keel when going through rough patches that are expected with a foreign coach or player in his first year with a team.

Andrew and I, despite 10 years in age between us, became close buddies in the near eight months that our stay here in Prague overlapped. We were the two import guys with the baseball side of the club, and gave each other someone to hang out with when checking out the city's centre and many sites, while doing some traveling during down time from baseball, and drinking buddies when checking out the night life in this great city. When one of us was struggling a bit with adapting to the culture here or getting a bit home sick, we leaned on each other to get through it.

For that, I wanted to say thank you, Andrew. You're a good apple, as they say, and I know your family is stoked to be getting you back home, and your home club will be pumped to have you once again back in uniform.

I'll also thank you for making me a little more "Aussie" while living here. It took me awhile to catch on, but I now know that when someone from Australia asks if I want to meet for "tea", that they actually mean dinner, not sitting around a couple small glasses of hot tea in a coffee shop somewhere. That was a relief, as I thought there for a minute there that I may have recruited one of the Golden Girls over to play for me.

I find myself now telling people or asking someone if they are "keen" or "keen as" to do something? I have caught myself referring to sweatshirts as "hoodies", and have added "cheers" and "no worries" to the vocabulary. I knew before that "mate" referred to a friend or companion, but now also know I can refer to a male buddy as a "bloke", or someone who's not a buddy as a "wanker". If there's something weird or shady going on, I know I can refer to it as being "dodgy", by Australian accounts. I now know that the ball used in Australian Rules Football is known as a "footy", and that looking for "birds" doesn't mean we're going on a nature hike, that it in fact refers to looking for girls.

And then there's the very versatile word "suss", which can be used in many different fashions that I am still attempting to grasp. I'll Google it, and will have it in the vocabulary arsenal when I come visit OZ one day.

I enjoyed playing translator when our Czech and Slovakian guys couldn't understand your Aussie English and accent. Appreciated having in essence a coach on the field (coaching is definitely in your future), and having a guy who I knew would bring his best effort to the yard once he stepped between the lines every day. And I know the club will miss having a guy who filled three roles for them this year, a defensive presence on the left side of the infield, a guy who could lock a game down as the closer in the ninth inning, and a guy who could hit at any of the top three spots in the lineup. 

It was great to have you here mate, and I'll always appreciate your friendship, the good times we had together and the stories we'll be able to tell from our time spent here. Give your Mom a hug for me, continue to work on that slider and hitting line drives to the opposite field, and I'll look forward to seeing you again soon, on one continent or another.

Two Goals Down, One To Go

The Titans celebrating their Českomoravská liga championship last weekend.

On Saturday, our club fought back to win our league's championship game, 3-2, with an eighth-inning two-run double proving to be the difference against a very good team from Hluboká, which is located two hours south of Prague not far from the Austrian border.

The Českomoravská liga championship game took place eight months from the day I arrived and had my first practice with our team, and since then my players and I have certainly shared some growing pains together. They've had to adjust to my stubborn ways and the program I wanted to put in, and I've had to learn their strengths and weaknesses on the fly while adjusting to them in attempt to mend some of the cultural differences we have on the baseball field.

My coaching mentor, Pudge Gjormand, always said that 'it's a marathon, not a sprint', and that has never been more true than this season. We'll end up playing about 55 games between 'friendlies', tournaments, league games and postseason games, and have been practicing three times a week since February, minus a two week break in July. Over the course of that time, I've battled to get guys to buy in, and it's a great feeling when you see that happening and them understanding that what I'm preaching really does work more often then it doesn't. It certainly hasn't been a smooth ride at times, but results are what matter in this game and we've been able to check off goals we've set while stringing together some very good stretches of baseball.

We won 16 straight league games during May and June, won the regular season championship, our first goal, knocked off a surging team from Třebíč in the semifinals, and then defeated a former national team pitcher to win the league title, our second goal. We've competed well in games against the U18 Czech national team as well as the senior national teams from Croatia and Hungary. We led the league in hitting, and when the hitting cooled off at times in the playoffs, our pitching came up big for us.

With the championship trophy and Andrew Rodgers, our import
player from Australia, who has been a major part of our success.

And now, we have an opportunity to get this club back to the Extraliga, the country's top division, when we open the promotion/relegation series (they call it the Baráž here) against Olympia Blansko this weekend. That's our third goal, an annual one the past three years for our club, which dropped from the Extraliga in 2009 after 17 seasons of competing in the league.

I'm not afraid to tell anyone who will listen that I'm proud of my guys. Proud of them for putting up with me when I hammer them about 'doing the little things right', keeping the 'baseball Gods happy', always being 'the hardest working team in the Czech Republic', or when I let fly an occasional outburst of curse words, toss a fungo in the air in frustration, or go fire up an umpire who may or may not even speak English. Proud of how they all arrive on time now, and when they're running late, that I'll get an SMS letting me know that's the case, something that wasn't the case when I arrived. Proud of how we can fly through a practice plan, knock out drills that simulate game speed that we were dragging through back in March and April, execute in situational hitting drills, and for the most part, make adjustments in practice quickly so we can move on to the next task (this also wasn't the case early on, when EVERYTHING would be discussed at nauseum, something I've discovered as part of the culture in my time in Hungary and here in the Czech Republic).

Like I told my guys when we traveled to Třebíč with our best-of-five series tied at 1-1, I wasn't ready to go home and had no intentions of doing so while there were still goals left to accomplish. They agreed, and preceded to win the next two games and win the series. Then, at practice last week as we prepared for the championship game, I read them one of my favorite quotes, from Michael Jordan: "Some people want it to happen, some wish it would happen, others make it happen". And they made it happen, winning the club's first championship since the Czech Baseball Association was formed in 1993.

While I know the Hluboká club is very good and very well-coached, my guys deserved that championship. They have put in the work, and they were rewarded for it. And that's how it should be. They partied until the early hours of the morning after the game, chanting and singing songs and giving toasts I could only guess the meaning of, with some guys even passing out and sleeping in the locker room after a few too many postgame 'pivos'.

A goal had been checked off. We celebrated. Now, it's time to get back to work as we strive to reach the next one. 

Prohibitions and D.C. Baseball

Prohibition disclaimer at a Prague bar.

So while all my friends and family back in the Washington, D.C., area are celebrating the Nationals clinching the first Major League Baseball playoff appearance for a Washington team since 1933, we are in the midst of something here in the Czech Republic that ended that same year back home ... prohibition.

A couple people in the country here apparently poisoned some liquor by adding methanol, which quickly spread and over two dozen people died as a result. The Czech government responded earlier this month by imposing a ban on liquor with more than 20 percent alcohol, where the methanol had been found, a ban which will go until the middle of October. In essence, you can now get a beer or a shooter with very little liquor in it, but nothing else.

Very scary, very heartbreaking, and, on a much smaller scale, also very ironic that the Nats would go 69 years between playoff berths, spanning the end of prohibition in the United States (which was repealed by the 21st Amendment in December 1933) to the beginning of prohibition here. I'm no baseball sabermatrician or uber stat geek, but I found that at least somewhat interesting, and worthy of a blog on a quiet Wednesday afternoon.

The prohibition here has had a big impact on an already struggling economy, with the country losing 25 million Czech crowns (koruna), which is equaled to a little less than $1.3 million, each day during the ban. Shelves at grocery stores, markets and bars where bottles of liquor are usually kept are now bare, and the night life isn't what it was in past months as the non-beer drinkers are staying home. The dry period has had an especially large impact on the Absinthe industry, with the factory just outside of Prague nearly grinding to a halt and the museum where you can buy Absinthe in various forms and flavors down near Old Town now a ghost town, much to the disappointment of a group of Virginia Tech students I took there last week that had hopes of picking some up.

You Nats fans enjoy the last handful of games before the postseason begins, carry on with that Natitude, keep your fingers crossed that Teddy will win a race before the season ends, and don't forget to bring up the Stephen Strasburg debate, it's been like 15 minutes since anyone's mentioned it. Meantime, I'll be tuning in via MLB.tv, and hopefully will be able to celebrate an NLCS victory with a few shots of Slivovitsa or Absinthe before returning to the states for the last couple games of the World Series. 

The Lonely Cutoff Man

Petr Kruml, who experiences both ends of a relay
throw as one of our outfielders and catchers.

There is nothing worse than that feeling of being alone on an island.

Gilligan and his crew after their three-hour tour went awry, Tom Hanks in 'Cast Away', the 'Lost' characters, they've all experienced the feeling. A stand-up comic after a bad joke, a wide receiver after dropping a wide open touchdown in the end zone, the singer while forgetting the words while performing the 'Star Spangled Banner' before the game, they've all been there.

Tack the cutoff man - the infielder who takes the throw from the outfielder and then relays the ball to second base, third base or home plate in baseball - to the list ... at least with my club this season. The simple act of getting the ball cleanly to the cutoff man while he's out there on his island has been every bit the adventure for my outfielders, which has caused a few more grey hairs to work their way into my scalp over the course of these past seven months.

To back things up for those less in the know when it comes to this part of the game, coaches teach outfielders to throw the ball "through the cutoff man's head" so he will have the option of cutting it and holding it, relaying it to the base he's being told to relay it to, or let it go through if there is a close play at the bag or plate and he's told to let it go through. A ball which hops to the cutoff man, preferably a easier-to-handle long hop over a tough-to-handle short hop, is also acceptable.

What is not acceptable is a ball that sails over the cutoff man's head, leaving him without options and generally leading to a trail runner advancing another base, or a throw which tails to the left or right, pulling the cutoff man off the straight line in which he has aligned himself from where the outfielder fielded the ball to the bag or plate that we want the ball to be relayed to. Straight lines, Euclid first told us centuries ago, are very productive, and there is no more perfect an example of this than on a well-executed relay in baseball.

My guys are working hard to fix our current problem of outfielders sailing those balls over the head of the cutoff men and letting balls tail off in different directions. But I cannot deny the fact that it is a concern of mine as we are now just eight days from playing in our league's championship game, and we're still struggling with this aspect of the game that should have been shored up back in the spring. We have spent hours trying to get it right, and will continue to do so as we advance through our postseason (we have also qualified for the Czech Baseball Association's 'promotion/relegation series', where we will face one of the bottom two teams from the first division in a best-of-five series in attempt to advance back to the Extraliga for the first time since 2009).

Hopefully, my guys will read this and use it as motivation to improve, so I can write a follow-up on how much better we have gotten at executing the relay. Hopefully, I won't have to toss my fungo bat up in frustration while screaming "hit your cut!" anymore because of failed relay throws that sail into the dugout or off the backstop. Hopefully, this becomes a non-issue moving forward and we can focus on other facets of the game that we'd like to continue to improve upon this fall.

I know our cutoff men would appreciate it, it's awful lonely out there on that island without a baseball to catch and a relay throw to make.

Prague vs. Brno, A Czech Rivalry

It's Prague vs. Brno in the Czech Extraliga finals, which begins this weekend.

I've always loved a great rivalry: Yankees vs. Red Sox, Team Aniston vs. Team Jolie, Celtics vs. Lakers, Autobots vs. Decepticons, Sylvester and Tweety Bird, you name it.

And since moving to the Czech Republic, I've gotten a small taste of a huge rivalry between the country's two biggest cities, Prague and Brno. When folks hailing from the respective cities speak about the other town, they usually speak in venomous tones. I know guys from Prague who won't leave their car parked in Brno overnight, because the 'A' on their license plate indicating they are from Prague means it could get damaged. Some of those same guys from Prague will also tell you that they love their city because of all the sites and history, and say that Brno has just one site worth seeing ... the exit sign to Prague.

I've made the two-hour trek to Brno twice now for games, but this weekend will get my first extended experience there when a couple of us go to check out the night scene on Friday night and then stay for Game 1 of the Czech Extraliga finals between AVG Draci Brno and KRC Eagles Praha on Saturday afternoon. My players with our Tempo Titans Praha club don't start our semifinal series in the Českomoravská liga (second division) playoffs until Sept. 8, so that gives us a window to check out the Extraliga playoffs, an opportunity I don't want to pass up.

There's a buzz in the baseball community here as clubs from the two cities prepare to square off in the finals for the first time in nearly a decade. And that is only adding to the excitement in a country that hosted the U21 European Championships last month and will cheer on its senior national team in the European Championships in Holland and in the World Baseball Classic qualifier in Germany next month. 

A little history about the teams:

Draci Brno, one of the top clubs in all of Europe, won the country's national championship 16 consecutive years from 1995-2010 before losing to another Brno club, Technica, last summer. They're the big dogs here, the Yankees of the Czech Republic you might say. And so it's fitting that if using a Yankee (Evil Empire) comparison, that they would wear black. They've got arguably the top domestic player in the country, Martin Schneider, usually have a couple former mid-level Minor Leaguers as their import guys, have REEBOK splashed across their jersey as the shoe and apparel company serves as the highest-profile baseball sponsor in the country, and generally carry a stigma around with them on diamonds across Moravia and Bohemia.

KRC Eagles Praha, meanwhile, is undergoing a renaissance of sorts under coach Andy Berglund, an American who doubles as the senior national team head coach. A balanced group with some savvy vets and young talent, the Eagles are in the finals for the first time since 2004 and looking for their first national championship since 1988. I won't lie, I'm not neutral in this, I'd like to see the Eagles win. The KRC facility is only a couple miles from ours, and we've held combined practices with them, have played a few 'friendlies' against them, and our guys have grown up in the youth leagues and schools with a number of their guys. Oh, and their club got its start in 1981 when several members of our club split off to start a new team (they then went on to win the national championship the next two years, in case you were wondering).

So this weekend I get a taste of the great Czech rivalry, and it takes center stage on a baseball diamond. In the dog days of summer, with a beer in hand, who could ask for anything more? At the very least, it will help me to almost forget for a couple days that I'm missing the best year of baseball since 1933 back in my hometown, Washington, D.C., as the Nationals carry the best record in baseball into MLB's home stretch.

 For more information or to follow the Czech Extraliga series, visit www.baseball.cz.

Getting Back at It

Had my buddy Anthony Bennett in town for a
game as we got back to work this week at Tempo.

What are very popular here in Europe are summer "holidays", when the locals enjoy hitting the road with family or friends to head to mountain or lake homes, the beach or nearby cities with good night scenes.

Most baseball leagues across the continent will take anywhere from 3-6 weeks off between their regular season and postseason, a gap I think is a bit ridiculous for three reasons; teams lose momentum gained throughout the four-month regular season; play is sloppy early in the playoffs as teams work themselves back in game shape; and the best time of the year for baseball, weather-wise, is wasted.

That being said, I gave our guys two weeks off, and we started back this week with a four-day training camp in the mornings as well as single games on Tuesday and Thursday here in Prague and a doubleheader on Saturday in Bratislava, Slovakia. The first week away from the club was much-needed ... they needed to get away from me as much as I needed to get away from them. But the second week, I was itching to get back at it, and sat around most of the time playing with practice plans, figuring out our pitching rotation, and pretty much doing everything than I should have been doing during my time off, which is relaxing. 
 
The training camp, in my opinion, was a huge success. Our junior (16-18 year old) players, whose commitment I've openly questioned since I arrived in the Czech Republic, was fantastic. First guys to practice, sprinting everywhere, doing everything that was asked of them, they were like a completely different group than I had come to know.

One player in particular, an outfielder named Pavel, went from buried on the bench because of his lack of attendance at practices (most guys here are at about 90 percent attendance; some guys unfortunately don't approach that number) to in a position now with a few players unavailable to travel with us this weekend where he'll be starting in center field in our game against the Hungarian national team. For a young guy, what a great opportunity.

If any of you junior guys are reading this, I hope you keep the same work ethic you've demonstrated this week for the remainder of the season.

On Tuesday, we welcomed Anthony Bennett, a good buddy of mine from Hungary who is now coaching the Robur '58 club in Holland. As everyone around the baseball community knows, baseball in Holland is as good as it gets in Europe, and the Netherlands hangs with the big boys worldwide as well (they won the Baseball World Cup last year). Those guys did not disappoint, coming into to our yard and proving to be everything you'd expect from a club from over there; fundamentally-sound, talented and chalked full of guys who know how to compete. We ended up making a late run to make the final score 10-8, but they beat us up pretty good for the most part and were an example of what kind of club we're striving to become. Anthony, to no surprise of mine, has done a great job in his first year with the team.

On Thursday, we traveled across town to take on the A team from KRC Eagles Praha, which finished third in the regular season in the ExtraLeague, which we are seeking a return to after three seasons spent in the Českomoravská liga, the second-division here in Czech. Our guys set the tone early and we jumped to a 4-0 lead, but the big inning was our undoing, as they touched us up for six runs in the fourth and coasted to a 13-6 win. The score might not indicate it, but I thought we looked like a different team from the one that took a 14-3 loss to the Eagles in our first game of the season in their tournament back in March. Our guys were more confident at the plate, attacking fastballs early, and even when they had scored eight unanswered runs against us after our initial lead, we answered with two runs and had the game at 8-6 in the sixth. Earlier this season, we may have folded up shop in that situation.

This weekend, we'll conclude our week back on the field with games in Bratislava against one of their local clubs, Apollo Bratislava, as well as a game against the national team from Hungary, which is coached by another American buddy of mine, Justin Prinstein. Two more good tests as we look to face as many quality teams and as much good pitching in "friendly" games as we can before our first game in the Českomoravská liga semifinals on September 8.

It feels good to be back on the field, and everyone's batteries seem to be recharged for the last, most-important leg what will be a nine-and-a-half month season for our guys by the time we wrap up in October.

Couchsurfing, A Backpacker's Best Friend

So I figured I'd drop one more non-baseball related blog on everyone before we start back up this week in preparation for the playoffs over here. I guess you could call this free advertising for Couchsurfing.org, a site I've thoroughly enjoyed while become a member of while living overseas.

Couchsurfing is a network of people who are either traveling or able to host travelers throughout the world. It's become very popular here in Europe, where thousands of backpackers jump from one city to the next via train or bus throughout the "tourist" season from May to September, all the while seeking ways to save money where they can. Rather than pay for a hotel, or risk booking a hostel that might be a bit shady, they find hosts who are willing to put them up for free on a couch, pullout bed, in a spare room, and so forth. The hosts and surfers all have reviews written about them, so you're able to verify that everything is kosher, and everyone has a profile and photos much like you may find on Facebook or Myspace back in the day (whatever happened to Myspace? Talk about here today, gone tomorrow). They get to save the money they'd be spending on accommodation and put it towards enjoying the museums and cuisine in the various cities they are visiting, and hosts - especially lonely one's like me who are living alone some 5,000 miles from home - get to enjoy some company for a couple days.

I really enjoy hosting because I'm able to meet people from all over the world, play tour guide around the city (though I'm hardly perfect at that), take them out to where they can find some decent Czech cuisine and hit some night spots that they would enjoy.

My apartment isn't huge, I might drive them nuts with stories about baseball and with my dry, often ill-timed sense of humor, but I think that they appreciate a having a clean place to stay for a couple nights, the privacy of not having to use a community bathroom like they might have to use in a hostel, and the fact that I try and have some kind of breakfast for them in the morning before they hit the sites around Prague. Once I'm assured they're trustworthy, I'll pass them my spare set of keys, and I always give them a little cheat sheet I put together with how to get downtown and back to my place.

All I usually ask in return is for them to cook dinner if they're staying more than one night, because as everyone knows back home, I'm really not much of a cook; to be clean and let me know a general idea of what time they would be getting in should they hit the town and I stay in that night.

I've hosted folks from the U.S., Canada, Poland, Australia, Germany and Korea, and really enjoyed making friends that I'll keep in touch with, and may hit up for a couch myself one day. Next week, I'll be hosting folks from Hamburg, Germany for a couple nights, and it'll be the last time I'm able to host as I move up to the baseball facility the following week.

So while that will take me off the "host" list, I will look forward to continuing with the site as a surfer when I hit the road later this summer, in the fall and next year when I return for another season over here.

The Mad Dash

Don't let this be you, get to that bus/tram/train stop on time!

You'll see someone do it almost every day. Everyone has been there, and it's never an awesome experience. Especially when loaded down with bags, on a hot day, or while wearing flip flops or high heels (if you're a woman, I don't wear high heels. Except that one Halloween...)

It's the mad dash to catch your tram, bus or train, an embarrassing 10 seconds or so of attempting your best Usain Bolt impression, lunging at the last second to avoid the closing doors and then looking out the window and praying that you didn't lose your phone, keys or wallet while in pursuit. Meanwhile, you're feeling a dozen set of eyes on the back of your neck, and can only imagine the snickering and judgement being levied against you for being late for the connection.

As my buddy Dave said when he visited here last month, there's just "no way to look cool" when you're in a position to hustle to catch your ride. But it sure beats having to wait until the next connection comes, risking being late to wherever it is that you're heading.

I've seen groups of drunk guys make the dash, sometimes leaving a few comrades (and usually half-drank beers) behind in the process. I've seen elderly ladies hauling grocery bags hit another gear they probably haven't reached in years. The businessmen in suits are the best, because we all know how much it sucks to be a sweaty mess when wearing a suit in the dog days of summer.

While most dashers make their connection, I've seen plenty of folks miss it, their faces caked in frustration as the doors close on them. Some throw their hands up in disgust, many swear like sailors.

I've taken to cheering mad dashers on if I see them coming, their own little cheering section, you might say. I've even high-fived a couple, a nice little reward for their hustle.

Personally, I've stubbed toes a few times attempting the dash in flip flops. Once, I tripped running up steps in front of a group of about 50 tourists who were on one of the city tours. Stay hot, Kamide, I believe is what baseball buddies of mine would have said. I slipped on ice attempting the dash this winter (had what snowboarders call a "yard sale" on that one; bags, drink, hat all went flying everywhere), and once had some funny guys holler "Run Forrest" at me. Really, fellas? That's so 90s.

Dave was right, it's really hard to look cool on the mad dash.

The next time you see me, remind me to set my alarm.

Žižkov, My Historical Home

My street, Štítného, located in the Žižkov district of Prague 3.

One thing I've tried to do while living here is get at least a small grasp of the history I'm in the presence of each day. That begins and ends each day in my neighborhood, an area called Žižkov that lies in the administrative district of Prague 3.

Žižkov was its own city prior to 1922, and is named for Jan Žižka, who led an army of local peasants to a victory over the Holy Roman Emperor, Sigismund, early in the 15th century. A self-proclaimed rough neighborhood dating back to before World War II, Žižkov was often referred to as "Red Žižkov" due to its support of left-wing parties, and to this day many residents here refer to it as "The free republic of Žižkov".

The neighborhood is home to the famous and much-maligned Žižkov Television Tower, which was completed in 1992 and now dominates a skyline otherwise dotted with the Prague Castle and several medieval cathedrals and buildings. Several locals despised the construction of the spaceship-like tower, which has been voted as the second-ugliest building by one online publication. I can understand why they'd be upset, as it's the first thing you notice when you take to one of the city's lookout posts or fly into the city, rather than one of the more historical structures.

Žižkov is also home to the Czech Republic's National Monument, the Prague University of Economics, a few parks - including my favorite, the beer garden-boasting Holy Cross Hill - and FK Victoria Žižkov, a former Czech soccer power that has fallen on tough times in recent years. Known for it's cobblestone roads and sidewalks and located on hills that once served as vineyards for Prague's royalty, Žižkov has everything you'd need to survive within walking distance.

On a personal level, the neighborhood boasts one of the best Czech restaurants I've eaten at, Lavicka, a great pizza joint in Pizzeria VendeMaria, a gym, pastry shop and Vietnamese market less than 100 meters from my apartment building, and the Lipanska tram stop, which is less than a five minute walk and then two stops from the city's main metro and train station.

Across the street is the Street Radio pub, one of 300 in Žižkov, which is known to have the most pubs per capita in the world in a country that drinks the most beer per capita of any country in the world. Next door is the Veltlin wine bar, where I've now bought four bottles of wine despite the fact that I don't drink wine, just as a way to strike up a conversation with the cute blonde who works there. And around the corner is the Pokrok Art Studios, something I wish my brother, a fantastic artist in his own right, would love to check out.

Some locals here in Prague dump on Žižkov a bit, as a number of gypsies can be found here and numerous sketchy strip clubs and brothels dot the streets. Heck, I even complain about the apparent lack of desire folks living here have to clean up after their dogs.

But, like I tell those detractors, all that just adds to the colorful neighborhood that I will have called home for six months before moving up to our baseball facility in August.

For more photos of Žižkov, please click the link here...

Smoly Being Smoly

Unfortunately, the unlucky Smoly once again merited his nickname on Friday.

For years in Boston, their rabid Red Sox fans would always watch in disbelief some of the ridiculous things Manny Ramirez would do on the baseball field or say off of it.

They finally accepted it, passing it off as "Manny being Manny".

Well, we here in Prague with the Tempo Titans Praha Baseball Club have our own version of Manny. His name is Jakub Nedved, though everyone knows him simply as Smoly. Where do they get that nickname, you may ask? Well, Smoly is short for "smolný", which in the Czech language means "unlucky".

They informed me of his nickname at the first indoor practice I was at in late January, and I just figured it was spelled "Smally" and related to his size (he's a very athletic 6-foot-4 and 210 pounds). Kind of like calling a big guy "Tiny" or the bald guy from The Three Stooges "Curly".

Then within a couple weeks of my arrival he had showed up to practice with a noticeable limp, having apparently rolled an ankle after slipping on some ice; he fouled a ball off the top of his foot and had to sit out much of the remainder of a workout; and a ball flew seemingly out of nowhere when the infielders were doing some drill work and smacked him in the hip. It was in the middle of all this that the guys on the team told me the meaning of his nickname.

In the four months since my arrival, I've heard several more stories about how Jakub earned and continues to merit his nickname, most of them funny, though some painful sounding.

Well, Smoly was back to his old tricks this past Friday. While out on a date with his girlfriend, he stumbled climbing the steps onto a bus and broke his right hand while attempting to break (no pun intended) his fall. This comes about a year after he broke the same hand after punching a wall in the locker room in frustration after a bad game. That occurrence may have had more to do with him being a knucklehead than being unlucky, but you get the point here.

One of the guys said on Sunday before our games that this was actually "the latest Smoly has made it into a season without getting hurt," though I'm sure that doesn't make him feel any better about his latest mishap. He's out 3-4 weeks while recovering, and that's a big loss for us considering he's hitting .345 with three home runs and nine RBI in nine league games.

We will welcome his return to the lineup in a few weeks to help us with our final push through the regular season. In the meantime, I'll keep you posted of anymore stories of Smoly being Smoly. Hopefully, any such stories will just be funny and not of the painful variety.

Organization, Preparation Key in Coaching

Team huddle between innings in our game against Sokol Hluboka last month.

I've always felt that being organized and prepared gives you an advantage in life, whether it's in the classroom, workplace or on the playing field.

I'll freely admit that as a baseball coach, I've worked with and gone up against other coaches who know the game better than I do, know how to coach up and motivate players better than I do, and how to manage a game better than I do. So, while I feel I've closed that gap a bit over my eight years in coaching, I still feel the need to use other strengths of mine to help level the playing field.

I was raised in a military family, and while I did not completely grasp the discipline that enabled both of my grandfathers to serve in World War II and my father to have an admirable 23-year career in the U.S. Army, I do feel I've taken a couple of traits from the military lifestyle, being organized and prepared, and applied them to my coaching.

Those traits, I've found, are necessary more than ever while coaching in Europe. Back in the states, I was a part of high school staffs that usually had at least five and sometimes as many as eight coaches on the field every day. We'd have coaches focusing on the pitchers, the catchers, the outfielders, the middle infielders, the corner infielders, the base runners, the hitters, guys whose main job was just to keep the clock and make sure we remained on schedule with the practice plan, you name it. Even while coaching travel ball during the summer and fall, in what is a much more relaxed atmosphere, I'd have at least two assistants with me at practices and games.

Having that many coaches on the field really helps in our ability to develop a player's individual skills, to maximize practice time, make sure that nothing gets overlooked whether it's a player's footwork when turning a double play or a hitter slowing his hands down on breaking balls away. It's the no-stone-unturned methodology that I learned while coaching under Pudge Gjormand at James Madison HS in Vienna, VA, and helped with implementing when I moved over to assist Morgan Spencer at Centreville HS in Clifton, VA, in 2008.

That frame of mind had to be adjusted when I came over here, as I initially discovered when I hopped on late last summer to help Anthony Bennett out with his Szentendre Sleepwalkers team down in Hungary. During more than half of our practices and games, I'm the lone coach on the field. And that was certainly an adjustment from what I was used to back home. I don't always have an assistant to lean on to throw batting practice if my arm is dangling, to ask for their opinion on potential lineup adjustments, to pass off some administrative duties to, or to hit fungos to the infielders so I can go watch bullpens.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

It's forced me - and this may scare some people back home who already think I'm an OCD-crazed maniac at times - to become even more prepared and organized to make sure everything is in order when I arrive at the field and I can just focus on getting our team through that day's practice or prepared for that day's game.

In addition to the usual on-field and off-field coaching responsibilities, I make a point to email weekly schedules to players each Monday, and a spreadsheet is put together of who can and cannot attend each practice or game; practice plans that are detailed down to the minute are put together and emailed to our club's offices to be printed up and posted in the dugout every day; lineups for both games of our doubleheaders are put in our iPad scoring system, on our lineup board that is posted in the dugout and on the lineup cards the night before our games; heck, I even map out best- and worst-case pitching changes and substitutions for each game as I know I sometimes won't have the time to think them out on the fly while trying to manage everything else that's going on during a game.

In practices, I've tried to stress the importance of our guys focusing during drills so we're able to get through them more quickly, to sprint on and off the field as that saves time and keeps the Baseball Gods happy, and might designate outfielders to hit ground balls to infielders, or pitchers to hit fly balls to outfielders once they're done with their bullpens, long toss or running. I've had to reach to find ways to effectively get our team through a quality practice, and it's honestly been fun to try and think up new ways to do so. 

As a coach, you're always telling your players to think before the pitch is thrown so you know where to go with the ball if it's hit to you. You tell them to mentally begin their at-bat while on the on-deck circle, so you can just react and not think once you step into the batter's box. You're expecting your players to be prepared, so my feeling is that you had better follow suit and be prepared yourself.

Not having a pitching coach has forced me to study and learn more about that aspect of the game, which was undoubtedly my weakest trait. I appreciate when my one designated assistant, Ales, is able get away from work and come to practice because I know our outfielders will be getting some good work in that day. And when we do have someone come and throw batting practice, I make sure to take advantage of being able to watch our hitters more closely and help them make adjustments with their swings, or simply be able to give them a pat on the back and tell them how well they're swinging the bat if that is the case.

Don't get me wrong, our club does absolutely everything it can to support me and give me what I need. I've had former players come out to throw batting practice and swing a fungo, I have Ales and our general manager, Jiri, come out as often as they can to lend a hand, and I am always being asked if there's anything I need. But it's simply too difficult to find quality baseball people that can get away from work on a consistent basis to come and help out, and it forces you to make adjustments to how you go about your coaching responsibilities, to become even more prepared and organized, or else you will let your players down because they're not getting developed like they should be.

I feel that if a coach ever becomes stagnant and content with what he is, then it's time for him to get out of the game. I couldn't dig up the quote from Tony LaRussa, but remember reading somewhere him saying that in four decades of coaching the game, he still learned something new about it every day. That's how I'm treating my experience over here. Use it as a learning experience, and hopefully I'll get better at the trade in the process.

At the very least, I'll know what substitutions I'd like to be making in the eighth inning of the second game of our doubleheader that weekend.