13 Minutes

by Ryan Krzykowski

Every once in a while we experience a special moment, somehow knowing it’s going to stick with us forever.  Last week our family was blessed to watch my son Will play in the Division 2 NCAA College World Series in North Carolina.  Over a nine day period his team played eight games, and finished their season as the national runner-up.  Of course it would have been sweet to win the championship, but that tournament provided more incredible moments and memories then we could have ever hoped for.

(If you’re interested, here are just a couple links you might enjoy:     Cool moment #1             Cool moment #2)

I really could go on and on here about how unbelievably enjoyable the entire NC trip was for our family.  We’ll be sharing these stories for the rest of our lives — I have no doubt.  But oddly enough, if I had to guess, the moment I’ll remember more than any other from that trip didn’t happen at the ballpark, and it lasted a bit more than just a moment.  It lasted 13 minutes.

It was early the next morning after the tournament had ended, and I was on the road.  I was riding in the back of the car, happy to let my Dad do the driving as we headed back west while I grabbed a little more sleep.  Out of the corner of my half-closed eye I noticed that my phone come to life just in time to see I’d missed a call, and it was from Will.  I very briefly debated going back to sleep and trying him later, but knew he was flying back home with the team and thought maybe something was wrong or that he needed something time-sensitive.  So I made one of my best ever decisions and called him right back.  Will picked up immediately, asked if I was OK to talk for a minute, and told me he was in the airport waiting to fly out and was doing some reminiscing.  He was thinking back over the past week and the World Series.  He was thinking back over the entire season, his final one as a competitive athlete.  He was thinking back over his entire sports experience, going back to when he was four years old and I coached his YMCA Bitty Basketball team (the Giant Lions).  And as Will was reliving all these memories, he decided to reach out and see if he and I could do some reliving together.  My eyes are welling up all over again just typing that last sentence.  He told me that playing sports has been a huge part of his life, and he correctly guessed that watching, coaching, and supporting him while he played has been a decent-sized part of my life.  He told me how much he appreciated the approach I took through the years, doing my best to find the balance between being helpful and yet not making it about me.  The phrase I’ve used more times than I can count is, “It’s his deal, not mine.  I’m here to help if Will needs me.”  He told me how much he enjoyed riding home from games with me when he was younger — how he felt loved no matter how the game had gone.  We tossed memories back and forth for a little while longer, and it was beautiful.

After we hung up I sent a text to my wife, as she was also at the airport getting ready to fly home, and told her about my phone call with Will.  I had a little bit of a tough time typing out the message as the tears were flowing hard.  For him to have thought of me in that moment, wanting to share something important together, and then to say the things he said to me…it was about as good as it gets.  I described the conversation with Will as “one of the sweetest conversations I’ve ever had, and something I’ll never forget.”  It was so meaningful, and since I had some downtime as I rode in the back seat, I realized I wanted to know as much as I could about what I’d just experienced.  So I checked to see how long we had talked.  Will and I had been on the phone together for 13 minutes.

Let’s Coach With Purpose…