Why is it that when you are faced with losing someone – the significance and impact they have made on your life becomes absolutely crystal clear? And all you want is just a little more time to say all the things…or get one last hug.

My dad passed away in October of 2021. What I would give to hear just one more life lesson from him.

Growing up, sports was a constant in my life thanks to my dad – who was also known as “Coach.” He coached my brothers and sister and me for as long as I can remember. Softball, basketball, baseball, soccer – he encouraged us to try all the sports.

I played softball when I was younger, yet dad made me practice with my brother’s baseball team – said it would build character.

Dad would come home from a long day at work and call for my brother and me and we would head out to the back yard to have a catch. Dad would talk to us about what it meant to be a good teammate. About the importance of discipline, taking care of your body and working hard to make your teammates look good.

He emphasized having grit and never giving up. I can hear him now – “Janine…I want you to realize that people are watching you. Your talents, no matter what they might be…will get recognized. Your work ethic and your mannerisms will get noticed….The energy you give off, the way you treat people is important.”

“Your actions…do speak louder than your words.”

His words prepared us for the times we would make mistakes, poor decisions or face obstacles in our lives. He would always emphasize it is what we do NEXT that counts.

He would say, “Janine, each roadblock you face is a steppingstone, a learning experience. Life’s battles don’t always go to the smartest, strongest or fastest, but to those who have the courage to fight on. Little did I know how those moments with him would shape my professional life and the person I am today.

My dad loved baseball. He had a short stint as a professional baseball player before he hurt his elbow. That experience gave him a story that he told again and again with such fervor and passion…it left an incredible impression on me.

This was his “Welcome to the Big Leagues” story and it went like this…

In 1955 my dad was in the army, stationed in Korea.

The most important personal items he brought with him were his baseball glove and a ball. He would throw every day with his best friend. They would run some sprints and throw some more.

His army captain at the time was Captain John Smith, brother of Mayo Smith – the manager of the Philadelphia Phillies. Captain Smith saw my dad pitching and made a phone call.

One day dad is pitching next to a rice field in Korea – the next thing he knows he is trying out for a professional baseball team.

When dad showed up that first day of spring training, he was shocked to see hundreds of ball players. He said to one of the coaches, “That looks like a lot of men trying out for one team.” The coach laughed and said, “Son, they’re just the pitchers.”

Doing his best to stay calm – dad took the mound for the first time – and faced a rookie outfielder, Felipe Alou. Dad was confident he could strike him out and fired a fast ball, right under Alou’s chin, just to loosen him up. His next pitch was a beautiful curve…Alou sort of lunged and fell as he was swinging at it.

Dad heard the “crack!” of the bat hitting that ball….

Now, they had this sign out in center field about 430 feet away and dad’s jaw dropped as the ball sailed over it.

In the third inning, Alou came up again. This time, dad threw him a fantastic knuckle ball – a pitch where the ball seems to be floating, but as it gets to the plate it dips and sinks drastically.

It’s just an impossible pitch and Alou looked silly when he swung at it.

Now about 400 feet down the left field line, the ballpark had these high-tension wires about 100 feet up…and that baseball started to rise as it got to those wires. Homerun #2 for Alou.

At the end of the game, my dad sat next to the pitching coach – a man who had been in the big leagues for some 20 years and asked, “Coach, how the heck would you pitch to Alou?” “You want the secret?” said the old coach. “I’ll tell you….get the men out who bat before him. Keep them off the bases. Then when he hits his triple or home run, he won’t hurt you too much.”

“You see – he’s a big-league hitter son. And you don’t stop a big leaguer.”

Those words stuck with my dad. Throughout his life, my dad showed me that the words “big leaguer” don’t just apply to baseball players.

There are big league truck drivers, waitresses, doctors, and teachers. Big league entrepreneurs, students, spouses and big-league human beings. My dad even wrote speeches about it – winning national contests across the country – inspiring thousands of people to shoot for the big leagues in sports, business and in life.

He encouraged people to “step up to the plate” – and strive to be a big leaguer in whatever path they chose to pursue. My dad taught me that Big Leaguers think about their destiny. They live with a purpose. They are ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

They push themselves, have a tireless work ethic, are competitors, are motivated. They aren’t satisfied with being good – they want to be great.

“Big leaguers are driven and inspired by those who have come before them.” – he would say. “They strive to realize not only their goals, but their potential. They want to make a difference.”

He would say, “Janine, there’s no place in the big leagues for short cuts, laziness, disorganization, or uninspired performance.”

As I look back on the countless times I heard his big-league story – and ALL the lessons that came with it – I realized he was preparing me for life as a coach.

I spent over 32 years coaching women’s lacrosse at the collegiate level.

My dad was so proud.

He knew the valuable lessons sports would teach about life and how those life lessons shape our character. My dad worked tirelessly to pass those lessons on to me and my siblings.

He taught us that when the playing of a game is over, it’s life lessons of decency, respect, sportsmanship, competition and fair play are never over.

I did my best to pass those lessons on to my players in honor of my dad and all the great coaches I had in my life. I just hope – when it is my time to leave this earth – My dad greets me at the Pearly Gates, gives me a big hug and says – “Janine, welcome to the Big Leagues.”