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The San Diego Padres were in the heat of a pennant chase and pitcher Bob Tewksbury knew every game mattered more than the previous one. What mattered more to his five year old son, however, dwarfed the importance of throwing strikes to win a ballgame.
In the months leading up to the season, "Tewks" was in the role of 'Mr. Mom' for his two children. His only break occurred when his wife would take the youngsters for a couple of hours. That enabled Tewksbury to run a few miles to build his stamina and leg power for spring training. He stressed how much he needed the free time, not only for exercise, but for mental relaxation.
It was after a jog one Saturday that Tewksbury's son was learning how to ice skate. In recent weeks, a chair had been used to assist the child. It is a way to help a novice maintain balance while learning how to glide on the ice.
This particular lesson did not go well. The boy tried his best but he kept falling. He was a picture of discouragement.
From the stands, the boy's father, exhausted from running six miles and tending to his three year old daughter, sensed the ride home would be tense. He kept hearing the voices of past ancestors, telling him if he wanted to quit, "be a quitter" and "You will disappoint not only yourself but the entire family." There would be tears and plenty of yelling.
The ice-skating session reached a conclusion. Tewksbury did his best to remain calm. His son was nearly in tears because of frustration.
It was only a few months ago that Tewksbury was struggling in the big leagues. He was unable to throw strikes consistently. Some kind words about hard work from a teammate supplied a boost of confidence. It helped Tewksbury get back in the proverbial groove.
"Griffin," he said to his son, "who scored six goals in a youth soccer game last year?"
The boy's eyes sparkled.
"I did."
"And son, who is the best pitcher in the big leagues?"
"That's easy," the boy said, "you are."
"Who can get a hit off me anytime?"
"I can."
The father and son hugged. Tears of joy replaced beads of sadness.
"Son, I know you can skate. Let's try again."
The youngster, now somewhat relaxed, went back out to the rink. Over the next few minutes, young Griffin must have fallen a dozen times. With each slip, the boy cracked a smile as his father said, "Kerplunk!"
Moments later, the only sounds were blades cutting the ice. The boy was staying on his skates. He found his stride and kept his balance.
"Dad," the boy cried. "I can skate. This is great. I can skate!"
His father smiled to himself, "Finally I know how to be a dad...and it's great."
Tewksbury had learned to turn a trying situation into one of great joy.