My Name is Joe. I Work, I do My Part

My Name is Joe. I Work, I do My Part

(Inspired by a Southern Maryland Blue Crabs game, July 20, 2019.)

Some people complain about their lot, their circumstances. I can't complain. Life is going okay, and it will get better. For me, for everyone like me. For all of us. Things will improve when we do our part.

I wasn't born in the best of circumstances, but some have had it a lot worse. I was blessed with a few things. Maybe cursed with a few, but God is better than those negative things. I believe that.

Some people say that the black man is cursed, was given a bad, unfair hand. Sure, much of that is true. In the United States, most of us black kids were born with less than wealthy or educated parents, living in poor neighborhoods with meager schooling opportunities. This was true for me.

But this was the United States, too. Opportunities were there. They are still here, more than ever.

For me it was baseball. And before I get into all that, about me being a moderate success in a sport unique to this land and a few others, let me explain how I see black, and white, and brown. 

Whether we are African-American, Caucasian, or Latino or whatever, we all have to make choices based on the opportunities given us. We all have them. Perhaps some white people have more chances and opportunities to get ahead than us black folk, but that does not mean that I as a black man do not have them. Life is not fair to all, but we have to find our way, no matter what the back ground or circumstance.

I was born one of five poor black kids in Beaumont, Texas. 1970. I was malnourished, undernourished. I think my mom had done some drugs. At least marijuana and alcohol, that was for sure. She died by the time I was four. It was a bullet, but she was going to die of drug overdose anyway, pretty sure.

Those were a lot of her choices. I get it. No one is perfect. My mom made me, and my siblings, but then moved on. The next opportunity was my aunt, who finished raising me. Some people have the audacity to accuse her of being too religious, too unselfish, always giving, always going to church.

What? These were foolish things? Not for me. Those choices and devotions she had saved me. She was not perfect, but she was perfect for me. She did overeat, and died of a heart attack when I was 17.

By that time baseball became a part of my life, because some nice guys at church encouraged me to play. I liked it enough. As a kid from ages 4-17, it was a bright spot. Some times it was a little boring or a little too much heat, or sun, or running or sliding, or late nights and long road trips. But we were in it together. And I showed some promise and talent despite my skinniness. I could never get too much meat on my bones, to be as good as some coaches wanted me. Not enough muscles, according to many. But I could run, and catch, throw and hit. I made it to the junior college on the south side of Houston, and from there Lamar liked me to finish with a four year degree.

Math was something that I tried especially hard in; it made more sense with all the statistics that we learned in baseball. I was drafted in the last round in 1992, and I worked my way up. Not too far up. I played on a triple AAA team in California for half a season. I wasn't good enough, I admit that. 

But making it that far was all I needed to get where I needed to go.

Coaches recognized that I was calm, a good calculator, in some ways better than them. They appreciated my kind yet firm demeanor, that I could empathize and relate to a lot of our prospects that came from difficult circumstances. So After 8 years in the minors, at age 30, in 2002, I began coaching all over the place. In 12 years I coached, and usually just a position specialist, in eight different states. Plus, I traveled to the Caribbean and Mexico and Venezuela. 

I saved money. I did finally get married, we have two kids, married at last in 2005. They will be okay, my two. I was careful how I dealt with ladies. I waited to have children until I knew I was responsible for them, but also with the right woman.

It took us a while, but we ultimately found a stable job in Sugar Land, with the independent league Skeeters. I am only a third base coach for 5 months of the year, then I go back over the winter and I teach at the high school and the junior college. Math. And statistics.

I make decent money year round, I do okay. My wife is all right. She works part time. My kids get a little spoiled, but not that much.

Life is good.

Oh, and I never knew my real dad. I think I may have been in a restaurant bar with him once when I was seventeen. Or fifteen. I had this one step-dad that was abusive, but I did all right by getting away from that time of trial. It was harder that I had to try to defend the younger step-siblings of him, the abuser, of his own flesh and blood.

Sorry to bring up ugly stuff. It happens, for sure.

But back to my original point. I have made good, consistent, smart decisions and I am a success. I have been blessed by God, some call it fortune or luck. Some things have been stacked against me.

Work and good choices and perseverance pays off.

I have savings, I will live to be old most likely because I live healthy, and I love my family.

I work, I do my part. Which means I make wiser and better choices than most, especially those who created me.

And I will leave the next generation better off.

Will you?