I wanted to write today

Posted on by kassabi1a

I found myself wanting to write today. This is something that hasn’t happened in a while. The catalyst was I happened to be washing dishes and my mind started wandering. This is something I picked up from my father. He would wash, I would dry back when we lived together. I may or may not have stuck myself a bit with a knife, which reminded me of a story for another day about washing dishes with my dad. But I digress.

The past two days I had 9 freshmen move in and the 9 returners will be arriving soon. They come from all over the country and world. They come to WV to be part of the legacy we are building with our squad.

I got an email from a recruit last night that had been weighing on my mind. I get ones like this all the time, but the player asked me if I would be interested in recruiting them but understood if not because some coach/person/friend/family member at some point told them they couldn’t play at the next level because of their (insert nonprototypical trait here).

When I am asked about coaching influences, I usually don’t list my dad, but he is as deserving if not more deserving than any coach in my life.

Before we moved from small town Bloomsburg to the regular sized town of Mechanicsburg PA, my dad coached me in soccer. A sport that he really knew nothing about. When we moved, it was too late for him to be a rec league coach so in 3rd grade I found myself playing for the first coach not to be my dad. It was a bad enough experience that I almost gave up the sport permanently.

Going into 4th grade, my dad took up his coaching ways again. Later in life I would go with him to what I will refer to as ‘the draft’. It was where all the rec league coaches came together. Each coach was allowed a number of keepers from their previous roster and then all remaining players were given a skill level out of 10. The coaches then drafted their teams for the upcoming year. My father hated this process, and wanted me to see it so I could understand. Kids reduced to a number. Something I now see all the time in recruiting.

But stepping back to that 4th grade soccer season. My dad drafted a team that was almost exclusively the neighborhood I lived in so we could have the experience of playing with our friends. If he would have had a draft card score on that, it would probably have been an F-.

Some of us would later become solid athletes, but at that time none of us were anything above average. If memory serves only two of those players went on to even play at the high school level, and none at the college level.

We went undefeated that year. Which isn’t the part I care about 20ish years later. I can still look back and see my dad yelling out Greek Machine when my defender made a good stop. Or Elmer as our other goalie brought down a shot. Placing a season clinching penalty kick into the feet of one of the few nonneighborhood kids on the team. My father showed me the power of positive motivation as a coach. By truly investing and believing in each athlete on the field he was able to make us into something no one would have believed we could have been: A championship team.

So today’s lesson from my father is What can you do today to help someone else become their best?

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I’m tired

Posted on by kassabi1a

During a phone call with my dad this evening he pointed out I hadn’t posted in a while. The long and short of it is I am tired. Reaching that point of the semester with teaching/coaching/recruiting that I am exhausted.

So as I sit here on my treadmill getting up the motivation to run I look back a few hours into my day when my girls were so spent that they had to drag themselves out of the water.

I feel as long as I am putting other humans through such tortures I should be no exception.

My legs hurt. My knee is sore as shit. My hip is out of alignment. My back feels like someone took a whip to it. My shoulders are in no way pleasant. And most difficultly my mind is broke at the moment.

But that’s why I have to stand up, go for a run, finish homework, and put some words on the page before I sleep.

My father made sure I was stronger than life. So I run, and as I run I’m reminded of the words of my good friend Tim Smith as spoken as he drug my dying ass on a run around Wilkes-Barre during out masters… “every runner is running toward something or away from it.”

Fear of change

Posted on by kassabi1a

Writing again during set rest so please forgive any typos. Turns out when I’m working out I think about my time with my dad growing up. Likely cause I logged hours upon hours of training with him for Iron Mans and that sorta such.

Today’s lesson is my dad always explained to me that everyone is afraid of change, but you can’t let that fear stop you from doing something.

I see a lot of people in my day to day life paralyzed by this fear. People in unhealthy relationships afraid to leave because the unknown is scarier than staying. People miserable with their day to day work existence. Again easier to stay than leap.

From the time until I was born until retirement my dad worked for 8 different companies(sorry if I miscounted dad) and until the end of his work history most those moves were done with a large factor of uncertainty. He gave up a safe but lower ceiling for a risky but higher ceiling move. Though I’m sure he was stressed over if he’d be able to provide for my sisters and I and make sure he continued to progress forward I never once saw that side.

A lot of times I’ve been debating large moves in my life I’ve consulted with him, and one of the things he usually preaches is make a smart choice but do it quick. The longer you thing the more likely you are to stay where you are.

Had it not been for this instilled trait of accepting fear of change I likely would never have had the stubborn courage to pursue writing and college coaching.(possibly wishes he didn’t do such a good job with this lesson)

But when I came to my current position I interviewed on a Wednesday started on a Monday. I left my state to another one with my car, a sleeping bag, a backpack of clothes, and the stubborn knowledge that if I kept moving forward it would all work out.

So if you’re not happy with your life embrace the fear. Do something new. Take that leap and just keep moving forward. You’ll make it work.

Mediocre

Posted on by kassabi1a

Been a while folks…I’m still here…with my return from the shadows I’ve got a lesson from my father.

I was going through a lot of decision making this summer and my dad as always was a primary sounding board.

One day though he gave me a nice reminder.

He told me he didn’t care what I was, a coach, a teacher, a writer, sales rep, or anything but he didn’t raise me to be mediocre.

I was always taught that if I’m going to do something I out work everyone else at it. Better to not do something than to not do it well.

That reminder that mediocre isn’t in my genetic make up was the kick in the ass I needed to get back into the fight of life.

So as I write this post between sets in the weight room before I go to teach, I challenge all you not to be mediocre today. Step up to whatever challenges come looking for you today.

Whatever you do…just dance

Posted on by kassabi1a

So I normally do lessons from my father. Forgive some latitude as I take it back a generation to my grandfather, Pete senior.

Around a decade ago I had a college social to attend with an out of town significant other. That out of town was Bloomsburg which is where my grandparents lived. Being a starving college kid there were few things better than a home cooked meal from your grandmother so I took the time to go see them for lunch.

While we sat there and I tried to awkwardly explain a college track team social as if it was a high school dance and not a bunch of college kids getting dressed up to drink(which I realize now they likely saw right through) my grandfather seemed relatively uninterested in the story.

But then he leaned over the table and with a stern finger pointed at me said, “whatever you do…”

At this point there’s a number of ways this can go not one of my predictions was right though.

…”just dance. Make sure you dance because if you don’t dance you’re no one.”

Now my grandfather ran his own junkyard his entire life. Like many of his generation a tougher man than I can ever hope to be.

Just dance.

After I brought my jaw up from the floor and listened to him and my gram debate dancing today vs dancing now his attention came back to me.

“Your girl wants you to dance. She wants you to be part of something. If you don’t dance you’re nothing.”

This talk has always stuck with me. And I wish I could say at that moment the light bulb went off and I never sat out another dance the rest of my life. But I’ve sat out a number of dances in my life, a number of experiences, all because I was afraid to be a fool. Worried about how I’d look to others.

The older I’ve got, the more mistakes I’ve made, the wiser I’ve become.

But I understand those words now in my life more than ever. Be in the moment. Be part of life. Be something.

And don’t forget to dance.

Spartan

Posted on by kassabi1a

Growing up my dad was s triathlete, and if you’ve read some of my earlier lessons from my father you’ll know young me trained beside him. I was well outside the ranges an average seven year old would do.

I was able to do this because my dad convinced me I could. Usually it went something along the lines of you’re a Kassab and we descended from x which makes us stronger than y. Or you’re a machine/animal. So of course I could do more than the a stage human.

One of the greatest feats of will I ever witnessed was my dad did the Floridian Ironman in just under 12 hours, put me, my sisters and mom in our station wagon and drove straight back to Pennsylvania.

These things remind me now in my graying age that I can still achieve beyond my potential as long as I have the will to do it. The only thing that can ever stop me is myself.

Enjoy your rotations

Posted on by kassabi1a

Enjoy your rotations. Haven’t done one of these in a while, sorry dad. But welcome back to lessons from my father.

This one isn’t an old one but a newer one. I talk with my dad most days. And seek his advice on most things, regardless of if I listen or not.

There’s been quite a few things come my way this past month that I’ve sought his counsel on. Almost each of those ended with him telling me that I needed to enjoy my rotations around the sun and that none of us have guarantees. Time will only get faster as I get older.

I definitely have an appreciation for that adage, and think it’s a wise one for all.

You don’t stop til the job is done

Posted on by kassabi1a

Today I wasn’t feeling my run. I had originally planned it to be an off day but a friend gave me Christmas cookies yesterday and well I don’t have Christmas cookies this morning so had to do something about it.

Today’s run sucked. Six miles I didn’t want to do and at times dropped back to a walk. But I don’t stop until the job is done. (Actually writing this on my cool down walk)

That doesn’t just go for workouts and the first time I realized just how instilled Tis was in me was when I started helping other people move.

I’ve held 18 different addresses in my life. There’s been a lot of adventures and in that time I got very good at moving. Many of those moves were with my father and usually it was done on our backs(thank you to the friends who shared that burden over the years)

Moving with my dad there wasn’t rest. Rest was when you got to sit in the truck on the drive back to get the next load. You kept your food and liquids there. No pizza or beer breaks. Pick things up put them down repeat until the job was done.

I use to think he was crazy until I started helping others move and would grow impatient at the down time. Most times any more my condition of helping comes with getting to run the operation(likely another thing I picked up from the old man).

But it’s not just the physical. It’s my life. I will fail. I have failed. And I will fail many, many more times. But it’ll never be because I was out worked.

Cool down is coming to a close and there is work to be done so I will wrap this up by saying thanks Dad(since you might be the last religious reader of this blog anyhow) and sorry I wasn’t there for this move. I’ll owe you one.

Never Use a Urinal in Hostile Territory

Posted on by kassabi1a

It was the eve of my first ‘meet me at the flag pole’ fight, which never came to pass. The flag pole was a local park, and the night before my dad was giving me a few pieces of advice. There are a number of gems in that advice that will likely find their way into other.

The piece I will discuss today was to not use the urinal if I needed to take a leak. I was roughly 12-13 at this point and time and had never given any thought to how vulnerable you are at a urinal. Pants down, hand occupied, back to the world. You’re just asking for a very embarrassing sucker punch.

Though the fight never happened, the lesson remained.

Whether it be a figurative or literal urinal I do my best in life to never expose my back to a threat. You can’t avoid every fight that comes your way, but it goes a lot better when you can see the hit coming.Urinal

Twofer

Posted on by kassabi1a

Today’s lessons from my father contains two of them.

I’ve just got in from watching my former high school compete in a championship swim meet and like it usually does it has me thinking back.

I came out for the team my sophmore year after having quit swimming a few years earlier. I wasn’t good when I quit, and I wasn’t good when I came back. I was lucky to have a coach that admired my work ethic, also gave me the super awesome nickname of Kassabi, and was willing to keep me on the team.

The way swimming works is there are three post season meets. Each one increases the area of competitors and the top times go head to head. This was my first season back and the most impressive thing I had accomplished was not quitting.

I entered the water for what I believed would be my last event of the season and in a little over a minute I would be done with my first season. By some miracle I dropped more time than I had any right to, not just dropping my time, but putting myself ahead of other teammates to give me a chance to go to districts.

So, what does my father have to do with any of this? There are two weeks between Mid-Penns and Districts. You don’t find out until after the first week if you’ve made districts or not. My time was right on the cusp. I would either just make it to districts or not.

My teammates were encouraging assuring me that they thought I would get in. My coach, though pumped for me, kept his expectations realistic. Most years my time wouldn’t have got me into districts. And here is the part where my father comes in.

The first day after Mid-Penns I came home from practice destroyed. I was now swimming with kids who had way more endurance than me. I relayed to my father how positive the team felt about my time, but how I felt I had no right to be there. I was way out of my league.

He told me that I had to stay in the fight and I couldn’t beat myself before the results were in, but I also had to keep in mind that you can’t drive through a red light just because it could turn green. With that in mind I returned to practice, giving everything I had to give as the fast kids lapped the crap out of me, fully embracing the fact that I wouldn’t be there the following week.

The second results were sent to the coaches on a Sunday. When I left practice on Saturday my coach said he would call me one way or the other. I got my phone call and expected coach to tell me that he was sorry, I should be proud of my season, and he’d see me at the banquet. Instead I was told I made the 24th spot of 24 swimmers.

No fairy tale ending here. I swam at districts, dropped more time, didn’t score points, but all in all had a pretty good first season for what I expected to do.

Here is the second part. After meets and games there is always a gaggle of parents raining praise on their kids. I’m not saying this is a bad thing. Parents being positive is great. I just had a more honest dialogue with my father. Strengths and weaknesses, that type of stuff, so our conversations happened at home.

I always knew where to find my father in the stands. Ever since I was a kid he would always go top row to the left side of the complex. He was coming in from a business trip that day and wasn’t sure he would be able to make it to the meet in time to see me swim. I hadn’t found him before the race, but after the race I looked up to the area I expected him to be and he was there. He gave me a thumbs up, I returned a nod.

I’m sure we talked about my season as a whole and how I felt I did and things I should work on before the next season. I’m sure we talked about a lot of things. But the two things I will remember is he made it to my race, and the thumbs up. A dozen years later I don’t remember my time or what place I finished in, but I remember the thumbs up. Actions will stick with a person forever.

 

P.S. Congrats to all swimmers who had awesome races this weekend at Mid-Penns.