The Power of A Single Life

Mr. Presley was a long-time principal at a Middle-School in Shelby County. More importantly for me, he was a key volunteer at West Tennessee Baptist Children’s Home in Bartlett. He coached their ball teams, taught the kids how to swim in the summer, and served as a role model for all. 

I played for the baseball team the summer before my Senior year in High School, primarily because it gave me extra opportunities to see my cute little girlfriend who lived at the Children’s Home. Mr. Presley was the coach. 

Through the years, I had plenty of coaches who questioned your manhood and got in your face. I didn’t really mind the yelling and screaming, since I had an aggressive streak on the ball field. 

Mr. Presley was the opposite. Calm and reasonable. He never raised his voice. One day I overthrew the second baseman on an attempted steal, and the runner advanced to third. I was not happy with myself and expressed my displeasure by slamming my catcher’s facemask to the ground and uttering a choice word or two. 

Mr. Presley called time out and walked out to the plate. He put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Son.” He called all those mostly fatherless boys “son.” 

“Son,” he said. “We don’t act like that.” “Yes sir,” I simply said.

I have almost no other memories of that summer season. My wife, the cute little girlfriend from the Children’s Home, says we were a good team, but I think that is love talking. My vague memory is we were a mediocre at best. 

But we had an wonderful coach. I suppose it is the sentimentality that comes from getting older, but it is hard for me to even talk about Mr. Presley without crying. 

The power of a single life. It is an amazing thing, isn’t it?