96 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1,2005
I used to be surprised that a significant number of people revere sports teams and coaches. I previously thought it was due to a general cultural inclination of admiring sports as spectators. However, Lewis' book has made me understand that, at least for the group who trained under coach Fitz, such reverence is well-deserved and not just a consumer's admiration for a purchased entertainment experience.
Lewis' book is filled with tension. I can't do justice to his excellent writing in this review. I can only recommend that you read it in its entirety (better yet, get the audiobook read by him. His hoarse yet earnest voice adds to the experience). In this short book, Lewis interweaves his personal experience of being coached by Fitz. Fitz gave baseball a purpose for adolescents and helped them overcome the crises of young life. He distinguished between "liking baseball and wanting to win" for fun and applying oneself wholeheartedly as if it were a matter of life and death, and understanding that life is not a series of purchase decisions to get out of trouble (for this group of adolescents in an expensive school, using their parents' money to bail out).
Fitz had an intensity that tolerated nothing less than total dedication. Team members who went to parties between practices were disciplined and didn't want to go to the beach for decades. Lewis himself was grilled by Fitz when his parents took the family on vacation during Mardi Gras, which meant he missed a week of committed practice. Guilty for not meeting Fitz's intense devotion, he was accidentally hit by a ball that broke his nose when he returned to the field. But Lewis described that moment of being hit and losing consciousness as the happiest moment of his life, and the first thing he said to his family at the doctor's office was that he would never go on vacation again. He changed from a troublemaker who frequently visited the headmaster's office for confronting teachers to a respectful one that the teachers truly loved. As Lewis put it best, "Fitz could reach in and pull a white rabbit out of an empty hat, and the whole experience means a lot more to the white rabbit than to the magician."
Before you think Fitz was a sadistic madman torturing high school kids, the book provides enough details about Fitz to clarify that his intensity was even stronger on himself. He would walk home miles through bad neighborhoods in a murder capital city when his team lost. It was a habit from his playing days that he carried through to coaching, punishing himself quietly to atone for the noncommittal adolescents' sins. He would miss his own grandson's christening to be at a game and, of course, was outraged when three boys chose to miss that game just to go to Paris.
But the problem is that times have changed, and "the magician is not allowed to reach into empty hats anymore." This is a major point of the book: a general shift in attitude towards coaches and schools between the 1970s and the early 2000s. Parents and former players from the 70s revere Fitz for instilling values in adolescent boys and making them better men. They appreciate him so much that they raise funds to build a gym at school named after Fitz. However, parents today consider themselves as paying customers demanding pampering. They badger the headmaster to fire the coach for calling out their kids' lack of discipline, failed commitment, and lies. Most of these parents are lawyers who are too eager to help their kids achieve conventional success, such as getting into a good school and getting a good job, and they resort to pestering the coach to give their kids more playing time. The irony is that the only parent (a cardiologist) who refused to join this lobbying and actually went to the headmaster to defend the coach's discipline had the hardest-working, most humble kid who also turned out to be the best player on the team and was courted by the kind of success (a professional team inviting him to join directly after high school) that the other lawyer dads wanted so badly that they were trying to harass their way into. You can see that the parents who don't understand the concept of intensity from coach Fitz are the ones who can't handle intensity themselves and are used to getting their way through threatening, complaining, lobbying, and purchasing.
This coach Fitz, a closet intellectual whose sermons to the team quickly ranged from Aesop to Mark Twain, and who quoted "What is to give light must endure burning" to inspire the team, represents the intense idealism that money and lobbying consumers can't buy. As Lewis put it, this kind of thing "refused to be trivialized by time." This book makes me think of my teachers and parents and worry about whether I can do my job, cherish the gift of intensity I received, and pass it on to the next generation.