When my wife and I had our third child I was so excited when I learned we were having a boy. I loved my two daughters dearly but there are dreams every father has playing sports with his son. I named my son after my grandpa and me, so we called him Trey because he was the third Horace Hallenberger.Ever since the womb, Trey has beat his own drum. Many times to music that nobody else can hear. He apparently did not like being upside down inside the tummy. He would always be in a sitting position with his head up. This was not a big deal early on but as he grew the doctors became concerned and decided to turn him over so he would be in position for birth. I remember the doc molding my wife's stomach and I could see the indentation from Trey's arms and legs. The doctor slowly manipulated him through the skin until he had flipped him over.
A couple of days after that doctor's appointment my wife noticed that the baby was kicking very low in her belly. We decided to talk to the doctor about it again and set an appointment the following week. Sure enough, Trey had flipped himself back into the sitting position. The doctor told us that the baby was too big now to flip again and recommended that we come back in couple of days and do a c-section. He didn't want the risk of my wife giving birth to a baby who was breech.
So Trey was born on April 25, 2000 via c-section and everything went according to plan. He was healthy and strong. The first thing I noticed as I held him for the first time was his hands. They were HUGE! Long fingers and wide palms. I began to have visions of my son's NBA greatness. I envisioned him playing like the Utah Jazz great point guard, John Stockton. (Though I pictured him playing for the Lakers).
As Trey grew he was hilarious. Absolutely beside himself when it came to superheros and Disney characters. Woody and Buzz were at the top along with Shrek and the Incredibles. He was so fascinated with the characters that they consumed everything he did. He loved to draw. He never went anywhere with out his crayons and paper so he could draw all of his favorite characters. Even watching his favorite movies, he would be laying on his stomach with his pad of paper in front of him as he concentrated on his masterpieces.I tried to engage Trey in playing catch or dribbling a ball but he would lose interest very quickly. Especially if the ball happened to hit him on the head or shoulder or leg. He would immediately walk away. He was also the most noncompetitive boy I had ever seen. As soon as any playing became a competition he would just walk away and do something else. I remember him coming home from school and telling us that some boys had invited him to play football with them. Not knowing what football was he agreed and joined them. After seeing the first player get tackled, Trey had seen enough. I asked him why he stopped playing and he said "Why would I want to do that? Why would I want to get tackled? That's dumb!"
So Trey became a basketball player......sort of. His first game was not good. When Trey was in the game he wandered around clueless as to the action going on around him. Nine kids would run from one end of the court to the other and somehow never ran over Trey in the middle of the floor. Trina and I chuckled as we watched. "It's only his first game" I thought to myself. "It's got to get better."
I was wrong on so many levels. Every week was the same. Once during the game Trey walked off to the end of the court and got himself a drink from the drinking fountain. The only running Trey did was when he heard the final buzzer and he would run to the parent assigned the treats that week.
Late into the season Trey was put into the game during a blowout. His team was actually pretty good even when he was in the game. The coach's son was one of the best in the league and could score easily against the competition of the YMCA league. During this particular game the coach's son had picked up his dribble and was trapped by the guy defending him and the guy who was supposed to be defending Trey but had no need to.
As the coach's son continued to struggle he glanced up and saw a wide open little boy near mid court. He started to pass the ball to the little boy and then the realization that the little boy was Trey stopped him. He glanced to the sideline and found his dad. His expression was the classic "Help me dad! What do I do?"
The coach pointed to Trey. "Pass it to Trey!"
The coach's son quickly obeyed and passed the ball to Trey. It went right to him. Trey fumble the pass and it bounced on the floor. Trey picked it up and began to run in what looked like a figure eight. All without dribbling the ball. The coach and I both yelled out at the same time, "Pass the ball, Trey!" Trey stopped running, looked down the court towards his team's basket and then threw the ball. To nobody. It bounced a couple of times and one of the opposing players ran to it.
Trey's reaction couldn't have been better scripted. It was as if he were Rudy winning the football game for Notre Dame. Trey's face was that of pure joy. He looked up and towards us. A big cheesy smile across his face. He spotted his mama and ran for the first time as a basketball player. As he approached his mom and I he asked "Did you see me? Did you see me with the ball? Did you see me make a pass?"Mom gave him a big hug and told him how proud she was of him. I smiled as best as I could. My dreams of a son playing for the Lakers was dwindling. I didn't know what to say to him except, "That's awesome, Trey, but you need to get back out there because the game is still going." Trey turned and ran back into the game. People around us were no longer watching the game. They were laughing and telling us that was the cutest thing they had ever seen.
So basketball was out. Let's try soccer. Trey joined a soccer team with his older sister Amaya. The results were similar. Amaya played her heart out. The team fought hard and was really good. Especially the brother and sister from Ecuador who could do amazing things with the soccer ball. Trey obviously liked the sister and using his mad flirting skills would let her know it. If he would only put that kind of effort into playing soccer!
One game saw Trey's team playing a tough opponent. Back and forth the teams fought for scoring opportunities. As the teams ran to one end of the field, Trey stops at midfield and lays down on his back. The rest of the players continued to play. As the ball was stolen and the teams ran to the other side they passed Trey laying there. Amaya stopped and asked him "What are you doing, Trey? Get up!"
Trey answered but didn't move. "I just got tired. I need to rest." Amaya rolled her eyes at him and ran to help their team.
As the season continued the team dominated the games. They were undefeated and virtually unchallenged. Everyone on the team had scored that season except for one. Trey. So they put together a game plan for one of the games. Trey would stay down near the opposing goalkeeper and the rest of the team would try to get the ball to him so he could kick in the goal. He got the ball a couple of times and kicked it out of bounds each time. Right before the end of the half the ball was again kicked right to him. Trey kicked the ball to his right and then reared his right leg back and kicked it as hard as he could. It went right past the goalie and into the net. I noticed the referee waving his arms that time had run out and that the goal did not count. Didn't matter. Trey was going to get credit from everyone else there. The whole team mobbed him and all of the parents cheered for him. Trey was beaming.
Somehow that triggered something in Trey. He became the 4th or 5th best player on the team. The rest of the season he was playing defense and running and kicking goals and helping the team. I'm guessing it had less to do with the first made goal and more to do with the hug he had received from the pretty teammate from Ecuador!
The next year, completely out of the blue, Trey told me he wanted to play baseball. This was an interesting development. Trey had never even played tee-ball. I told him it would be very hard because most of the boys had been playing baseball for years. He didn't seem to mind and said he really wanted to play. I told him I would take him to tryouts and we would see how he does.
Tryouts were crazy. Hundreds of people there. Some were evaluating players, others were parents hoping their boys would do well and be chosen to play for a good team. Trey had his brand new mitt that looked like it was right off of the assembly line. He wore a hat that looked like my 1978 mesh John Deere tractor hat. His t-shirt and blue jeans completed the outfit and he looked like a misfit compared to the other boys.We got the information as to where Trey should go and they told us that there were three stations where they would evaluate him. The first station was hitting a ball thrown by one of the coaches. The second station was throwing the baseball. The third and final station was catching the baseball.
We watched about a dozen boys get up the the plate and hit. They were thrown half a dozen pitches and then the were asked to run around the bases as fast as they could. When they called Trey's name he put on his batting helmet and walked to the plate. The coach explained the rules to him again and then threw the first pitch. Trey hit a hard line drive to center field. My eyes popped wide. "Where did that come from?" I asked myself. The second pitch came and Trey rocketed one down the third base line. The next on went all the way to the fences. Then another to center field and another just inside first base. My jaw was on the floor. I could see many of the scouts frantically looking for Trey's name in their charts and making notes. On the last pitch the told Trey to run around the bases as fast as he could. This part did not go as well. Trey ripped the ball into the outfield and then began running to first base. He wasn't very fast and when he got to the base he stopped and started to take off his helmet. "Keep going!" the coaches yelled and pointed him to second base. Another coach waved him around second and another around third. It was not a very good time.
They then sent him over to the next station. This did not go well either. Trey could barely throw the ball to the coach at that distance and he looked awkward doing it. At the catching station Trey would close his eyes and hope the ball would land in his mitt. Very few did.
They told us they would let us know what league and team he would be on the following week. I told Trey I was surprised at how well he hit the ball. He just said confidently "I told you I could play baseball." Apparently he wasn't aware of how important running, throwing and catching were in the game of baseball.
I received a call from the coach of the team who had drafted Trey. He said Trey was high on a lot of lists because of how well he could hit the ball. He told me that they weren't concerned about throwing and catching because they could teach him that easily. I asked what league they were in and he said AA. Not the best league but definitely not the worst either. Much higher than I would have pictured Trey playing in.
Trey continued to hit the ball well during practices. He got better at throwing but still showed fear when someone thew the ball to him. He definitely would have a lot of work to do on his catching the ball. I was pretty excited that he was doing pretty well.
The first game changed everything. Let's just say that Trey would go on to lead the league in one category that he would prefer not to. It wasn't strikeouts. Trey led the entire league in "HBP" which stands for Hit By Pitch. Trey was a human backstop. He seemed to lack the instincts to get out of the way of the pitch. The ball would come and rather than jump out of the way he would look like he didn't even see it coming. The bruises were brutal. I worked with him often trying to get him to see the location of the pitch so he could know if it was going to hit him or not. The real problem became when he started to pull away from every single pitch. Including the ones in the strike zone. His fear had taken over his ability to swing the bat.About 3/4 way through the season I finally had Trey standing firm in the batters box. He was depressed and didn't want to play anymore. His teammates teased him because he couldn't hit the ball. I told him that getting hit hurts but it gives you a free walk to first base too. That only helped a little. I told him to remember what it felt like at tryouts when he hit every pitch thrown to him. I encouraged him that he could do it and he said he would try.
He stepped into the batters box and the first pitch whizzed past him. Trey pulled back to avoid getting hit. "Strike one" the umpire hollered. Trey looked at me at first base and I gave him a thumbs up. "You can do this, Trey! You have to swing the bat to get a hit!" He nodded and stepped in for the next pitch. Same result. Strike two. I called time out and walked up to home plate. I put my hands on Trey's shoulders and told him that I knew he could do it but he had to at least try. "Just swing the bat" I said. "I promise the ball will not hurt you." Trey nodded and I patted him on the back and went back to first base.
On the third pitch I saw Trey close his eyes as he swung the bat. The familiar sound of the ball cracking off the bat was beautiful. It wasn't hit hard but it was hit. Trey dropped the bat and ran for first base. "Go, go, go!" I yelled and waved my arms for him to hurry. The ball had barely made it between the pitcher and the second baseman. The pitcher picked up the ball and hurled it towards the first baseman. The ball sailed high over his head. I told Trey to keep going to second base. Trey ran as fast as he could. The first baseman finally got the ball and threw it to the second baseman. The ball just missed hitting Trey as he was running and then went right through the second baseman's legs and into the outfield. The third base coach started yelling for Trey to run to third. As Trey headed to third I could see that he was quickly running out of steam. His run became a jog and then a very fatigued jog. The outfielders had not been paying close enough attention and by the time the got to the ball Trey was already being waved around third and heading to home plate. "Hurry Trey!!" all of us coaches and all of the team and all of the crowd yelled in unison.Trey's face was one of defeat. He looked like he was not going to make it all the way. Something kept him going and as he stepped on the plate we heard the sound of the baseball slamming into the catcher's mitt. "Safe" the umpire bellowed.
Trey's team went ballistic. The crowd went crazy. I hugged Trey along with everyone else. I knew it wasn't the prettiest home run but it was a home run nonetheless. It was the only home run the team hit all year. And it was hit by my son, Trey.
Like all of the other sports Trey lost interest after only the one year of playing. I know now that he is not destined to be the athlete that I had dreamed about. But I am not disappointed. I know he at least tried. I am glad that he can laugh at these stories too. For a kid with so little sports experience he sure has a lot of great experiences that bring smiles to everyone.
Trey continues with his love of drawing. He has become quite talented at it. He wants to one day draw for Pixar. I think he just might.
I love to watch my girls play basketball and that they have grown to love the sport. But I am also proud of my son who tried to play sports. I found out later that the main reason he tried was because he wanted me to be proud of him. I am proud that he tried. But I am more proud because he cares that much. My greatest success will be to see my kids find happiness. If, for Trey, that is drawing characters for Pixar or writing stories and movie scripts, then I will enjoy his craft as much as if he had led the Lakers to a championship. And that my friends is pretty darn happy!
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