Coach

  This is an article I wrote about "That One Person" that is featured in the Summer Issue of Optimist International Magazine.         http://www.optimist.org/magazine/Summer2016/TheOptimist-Summer2016.pdf  

            Ed Wilson was a baseball legend. He coached Little League Baseball for over twenty five years. His team, Hanover Center, won over fifteen league championships, ten county championships, and at one time enjoyed a winning streak of fifty games which set a world record for the most consecutive victories by a baseball team at any level. He also guided two All-Star teams to North Carolina State titles.

He was my coach for three years of my youth and a few years later as a young man I was an assistant coach on his staff. Coach’s teams set records that will never be approached and yet that pales in comparison to why this man was so loved by so many of his ‘boys.’ He impacted lives and none more so than mine.

A perplexed rival coach once said to him. “I don’t understand why your teams are better than mine. I have players just as good as yours and I know as much about coaching baseball as you do.”

Coach’s response summed up a lot about his philosophy as a coach. “That’s because you are coaching baseball and I am coaching boys.” 

The morning after receiving the news that Coach passed away at the age of ninety eight, I found myself outside the gate to the Little League field. My thoughts drifted to a time when I stood in the same exact spot when he would alter the course of my life forever.

It was an early spring day forty years previous. I was nineteen. That morning I noticed in the local newspaper the Little League tryouts information. Each team was listed with the boys that were to report to the team that selected them. I filed away in my mind the four p.m. time that the boys were to report to Coach and went about my day.

Sometime after four I stood outside the gate to the baseball diamond. I had no plan. I had told no one I was going but I was there none the less.

Coach was businesslike as ever as he conducted practice. Still, he walked over a couple of times to inquire about how I was doing. I was not in school or employed and far worse I had no positive direction in my life. I had gotten myself into trouble the year before and he knew about this because he came to visit me when he heard the news.

It was nearing six p.m. and tryouts were about to conclude. He walked over one last time.

“You need any help, Coach?”  I asked sheepishly.   

Coach had a gruff, no nonsense demeanor. He looked at me and said, “You want to help me? Be at the school tomorrow at four.” He turned abruptly and walked away.

I was at the school the next day before four o’clock as I knew he would be. He already had a full coaching staff. I have come to realize that he did not need my help as much as he knew that I might be in need of his.

In time, I would look back to that one moment as being the crossroad of my life.   I discovered a love for the kids and for coaching. I began to realize the chance he had taken on me and I did not want to disappoint him.

I spent the next four spring and summers coaching with him before taking my own path. I taught basketball to the same age boys for the next twenty years. The lessons I learned from my mentor were with me always. They remain so because Coach taught all of us a lot more than baseball. He taught us life.

His son, Bob, asked me to speak at Coach’s funeral. It was one of the greatest honors of my life. I shared that day as I have many times that for some of us there is that one person who God places in our life that makes all the difference. Ed Wilson was that man for me. I shudder to think where I might be if not for a chance a ball coach took on a lost young man on a late spring afternoon.

Winter Park Optimist was formed in 1954 at Hugh MacRae Park, located in Wilmington, North Carolina. Coach and his brother Glenn ‘Doc’ Wilson, who also was a successful Little League baseball coach, were instrumental in the early days and for years to come in the shaping and guiding of Winter Park Optimist Little League.  There are two press boxes that were named in their honor many years ago. On April 6, 2013 there was a day held in their honor on the very field they coached on long ago. 

Winter Park Optimist is still going strong to this day over sixty years later. The baseball fields are still located in Hugh MacRae Park but there are now four baseball fields, which is twice the number when I was with Coach. They also have three fields nearby at John T Hoggard High School for girls fast pitch softball.   

Written by Billy Beasley. Author of The River Hideaway. You can contact him at billybeasleyauthor@gmail.com or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBillyBeasley/

March Madness

This is definitely a different type blog for me to write. Sports fan or not most of us are aware of March Madness. I am going to probably lose many of you with the following admission. I am a Duke Basketball fan & have been so since I was seven years old. There is one thing only those that know me best realize & that is that I value fairness/honesty above being a fan.

If you hate a player who plays for your rival would you love that same player if he wore the jersey of your team? Can you answer that honestly? That call you thought went against your team that you are certain was a charge. Would it still be that if your team got the call? Do you take partial accounts of stories & run with them if they support your dislike of another team?

I accept that the word fan is short for fanatic & we can all be that at times. Even though I will not go on social media & taunt when my team wins or whine when they lose doesn't mean I don't behave like a fool at times. Ask my wife. Wait... maybe don't do that.

I was involved in sports for much of my life. Playing as a kid & as a young man, though certainly not on any level near March Madness. The most meaningful thing I did was coach young boys in the sport of basketball for twenty years. No one wanted to win more than I did. I actually believe sports competition for kids is a good thing but that is not a story for today.

As a coach I failed miserably at times, both as a winner & loser. I tried not to rub victory in the other team's face because if you are a part of sports you know what it is like to lose & losing hurts. Still, there are times when we won championship nail biter games that I wish I would have been more calm. Celebrated less. One incident in particular, comes to mind. We had an injury bug the week of the tournament & somehow still won by two points. I forgot this for many years until someone reminded me I sank to the floor & screamed, "Yes," repeatedly. Many years later I saw it on video. I was embarrassed. I still am. I know it was the sheer relief of the week but there was a coach, who I thought a lot of who was waiting to shake my hand. I don't think he thought badly of me. We were rivals but respectful rivals. Not the I hate you because your jersey is a different kind of color.

Today, I would never do that. I will not argue sports or much of anything else. Duke won it all last year & I was thrilled but I never rubbed it in the face of my friends who love a different shade of blue. I wonder sometimes if we don't hate our rival more than we love our team. I have had to think about that one for sure.

Grayson Allen, who plays for Duke, did a bonehead thing & tripped two opponents in games earlier this year. Now he is a villain. People are just looking for the next thing he does & when you look for things with such zeal you will find them whether they are true or not. It reminds me of people who look for the devil behind every bush.

These incidents will follow him thanks to our age of social media, which is both a blessing & a curse. I did similar things in games on a far less stage. Thankfully, there are no videos of it looping on social media.

So today, I can say I would not do those things but here is a big difference. I am almost sixty. Grayson Allen is twenty years old. How many stupid things did you & I do at age twenty? We need to think about those things before we become so judgmental. I make no excuses for his behavior. He was wrong. I just am not comfortable labeling him a bad person now for the rest of his life because of poor decisions that came out during competition. Those that never cared about sports you may not get this but those of you that have participated I think that you will, because I doubt any of you have always behaved in an exemplary fashion, especially when we care so much about winning and losing.

Sure you can say I would have a different opinion if he played for another team. But what you wouldn't know is when P.J. Hairston, who played for the other shade of blue,  kept making bad decisions in life I took no comfort in that. I prayed for him. He is a young man who has made mistakes but that doesn't mean he always will.

Making a bad choice does not make someone a bad person. If that were true there would be no hope for any of us.

Fortunately, God does not keep playing a loop of our mistakes. His grace is far better than that. Maybe some will share negative comments about this because of their allegiance to a sports team. So be it. There are people who seem to live for that sort of thing. I read a nice article online this week about a young player & the comments turned ugly quickly. People going back & forth calling each other names in the comments section. That is not a life for me.

I surely do not want to be judged for the times I acted or reacted poorly during a sports contest. We that believe in God have pretty much all heard in one message or another on Sunday, that we are not our mistakes.

Couldn't we apply that same grace to athletes? Coaches? Each other?

One Young Man at a Book Signing

This past Saturday, I had a book signing for my novel, The River Hideaway. It was a very good day. There were so many highlights in that first hectic two hours, that if I list them I will surely leave people out.

I signed many copies & in some cases below my name, I also signed them as, 'Coach.' Parents, and in one case a sister, bought my book for a Christmas present for men who I once coached in basketball, when they were boys, aged ten to twelve. One of my favorite players, Stephen Wolff, came in with his girl friend. He shared stories with my wife about what he recalls playing ball for me.

There was a lady that my family holds dear in our hearts, for all the love & care she gave to my mom in those last years consumed with dementia. Tiffany, you are an angel and you hold our families deepest thanks always.


My PR angels, Sharon & Wylene, for continually pushing this little story to everyone you can reach. Robbie, for showing up once again & taking pictures of the event as only you can.

My old friend, Gary Barbee, who came from Pinehurst. Thanks for providing the comedic relief. 

A teacher came that taught me typing in the ninth grade. The ninth grade was the first year I was bused to another school to achieve real integration. Several of my classmates of that time came by Saturday.

More times than not the books were purchased by people for Christmas presents. How do I value that? To be a part of Christmas in homes across the region.

I saw people I had not seen in nearly forty years. But there was one sale that day that resonates the deepest. A young man approached  the table & asked me very directly, "Why did you write this book?"

I shared with him my reasons...my inspirations.

He nodded and said, "I will buy one."

As I was preparing to sign it for him he offered, "I was in the parking lot & I heard two people talking about your book and I just felt like the Lord wanted me to come in here and see you."

He was looking at me eye to eye as he said this. I got goosebumps or as some of us refer to them, God-bumps. We talked a little while longer and I told him that the book has a spiritual theme in it & that it begins with an elderly man having a vision from God.

I thanked him for the encouragement he offered to a no name author, with a small press, struggling to get the word out for this story. I know God is with Julie and I, wherever this goes. But at times I also doubt, worry, & struggle with the things I can't control.

Maybe that is why God reminded me what he could do with one person.

Overcoming our Childhood (Part 2)

The previous blog I wrote, as I commented later was not at all what I sat down to write.

What I took from that blog and I think there will be more to write about in a different format than this was the comments on Facebook about how people were so glad I was not on that boat. It really made me think.

Maybe I could have recovered from being on that boat eventually but it is certain that I would not have the life I am blessed to have now. Sometimes we (I) get caught in this thinking that I am just one person and not all that special. Sadly there is the other side of people that do so much damage because they become arrogant in their walk with the Lord. So as one person we can do good or harm, and we will do both in our lives. We can choose to be humble with the good and take ownership of the harm. I think that best.

Your comments made me think of that wonderful Christmas Movie, "It's a Wonderful Life."

One person removed due to bad choices or one person willing to go where he or she is led.


I thought what if I would have been on that boat. What good and bad would not have happened not only for me but for others.

1. I would not have Micah Beasley as my son.
2. I would not have my later in life gift of my wife Julie who exceeds this dreamer's dreams.
3. It might well have destroyed my mom long before dementia cruelly grasped her.
4. I would not have worked 32 years as a Park Supervisor and have a pension today that enables me to pursue my dream of writing full time.
5. I would not have so many of the wonderful friendships and relationships that I treasure today.
6. I would not have had the privilege of kids calling me "Coach"  for 20 years.  And even as adults, some in their forties now, and I am still "Coach" to them. Some have wrote me of  how they have taking lessons taught on a basketball court and applied them to real life. What greater compliment could I ever be paid? It humbles me beyond belief.
7. There is a good chance I would not even be here.

These are but a few examples if I would have been on that boat. I could write one hundred good and bad and not touch the subject.

I wrote an earlier blog about "That One Person." Ed Wilson, my former coach, my mentor, took a chance on me when no one else would. I don't think it a stretch to say, God used this man to save me from that boat and all that would have followed. I wrote in an earlier blog about him...



http://billybeasley.blogspot.com/2013/03/that-one-person.html

Jesus Christ saved me but Ed Wilson rescued me. 

One person, and to a God who can grant us more than we can think, dream, or imagine my suggestion is don't place limits on yourself and especially don't place limits on Him.

"It's a Wonderful Life," Isn't the best part of that movie when his brother Harry rushes in and toasts his big brother George, "the richest man in town."

The River Hideaway

On a day when my best friend, Jack and I were at home watching the movie 'A Time to Kill' an idea came to me. I asked, "Jack, what if this rich white guy and black guy meet and become friends back in the 60's when racial tension was so high?"

He looked at me strangely and said, "Where do you get this stuff?"

I took that as he thought I was crazy and at that time there was probably substantial evidence to support that theory. But later when I voiced this he immediately said, "No, I think it is great. I really  meant where do you get this stuff?"

That was 1998 and before I had a computer I began to write a fictional story starting from two young men meeting on a basketball court. My son, Micah reminded me yesterday of all the times we went back to the Park when the office was closed so I could write. I also remember a stretch where the ideas were flowing and sometimes I would wake at four and go to work early and write until my shift began at seven.

The second publisher that I submitted this story too gave me great hope. I received a very personal letter from Anne, the lady that read it. She loved it, however she was unable to convince the board to choose it as the one piece of fiction they published yearly. Still, with her glowing recommendation and five contacts she furnished I thought it was only a matter of time. Despite her recommendation three responded, no new fiction and no new authors. One publisher had decided to publish only children books. The other called and told me how interested he was and that he knew all about it from Anne, who personally had sought him out at a conference. But his company kept me on the hook for two years and despite how much they liked it in the end they decided to pass.

It seemed to play out that way often. I equated it to trying out for the varsity basketball team and making cut after cut but not making that final cut. That is not to say I did not have outright rejections I certainly did. The past few years I rarely tried as the process and life in general was wearing me out.

Some of you reading this may have ventured down the road of trying to get published. The realization sinking in quickly that it is very difficult to even get a publisher to agree to read your entire manuscript. Each company that I dealt with for the most part wanted only the one page query where you try to describe a manuscript that might be five hundred pages long. All in one nice tight page.

Right away you find out you have to rule out publishers of size because you have to have an agent. That is probably more difficult than getting published.

One small publisher in New York wrote something I never forgot. They received 7,000 manuscripts yearly from which they published seven books. Throw in being an unpublished writer and maybe less than half of the seven derived from that category. You do the math.

I can't recall in the past five years if I even tried more than two or three times. I was in a bad place for a long time where I thought I was good enough but that this God that was suppose to love me so much would never allow the desires of my heart to happen.

Many times I have shared the two great desires of my heart that were just for me. One was the right woman and Julie entered my life for good almost one year ago to the day. Today I am minutes away from signing a contract for 'The River Hideaway' and mailing it to a publisher in California.

I wasted so much of my life doing it my way because I thought my plan was better than God's. If you learn anything from my blogs I hope you learn to not be the fool I was. I turned the wheel over and God has so richly blessed me. I have a wife that loves me in ways I can't even comprehend.

Pastor Steve shared something this past Sunday that nailed my life before I turned the wheel over to God. He referenced a book and the following quote.

"The Christian life is so difficult because we seek God's blessings while we live in our own will! We would be glad to live the Christian life according to our own liking."

Absolute Surrender  by Andrew Murrey.

That was me. I was always asking the blessings of Jesus while I lived my way. Walking the path that I desired. Steve said it just doesn't work that way. I concur.

So now I have a writing break. I don't know what will come from it. The biggest dream is that it does well enough that I can get the other manuscripts already written published. But if this is it and this one little book sells 1,000 copies and that is all that ever comes from it I will say, "Thank You, God for your favor."

The publishing agreement came several weeks ago but the contract arrival took until this week. It gave me every opportunity to doubt and I did. I was extremely frustrated yesterday afternoon but even in my frustration as I was inclined to venture down that old path of anger toward God, I refrained. He has been far too generous to me.

I kept the news of this publishing agreement confined because I did not trust that it would not blow up again. I had been disappointed so many times. But it is okay because I have learned to trust God's timing better than mine.

Obviously, I shared the news with Julie who called me as I was reading the initial publishing offer and I was unable to speak. I called my son and he had to read the email to really hear clearly because I could not stop crying. That is my God. He reduces me to tears.

I don't want to leave anyone out and people close to me were all thrilled and your support means so much to me. Still, how can I not mention my adopted sister Katie's reaction? I placed the letter on a shelf under her water bottle one morning as she lifted weights with Julie and I. I told her she needed to drink some water. She did not understand but she picked the bottle up and read the letter. She got as far as the first paragraph before sprinting across the garage and leaping into my arms with tears already flowing. How blessed am I to have the people I have in my life. I am beyond humbled.

My sister Kay shared something when I called her and shared the news. First she was very happy and very proud of her little brother. Next she said, "Who knows Billy? Maybe Mom nudged Jesus and said, Lord, you know how long he has wanted this. Do this for my boy."

I like that. Thanks Mom. I love you and I think Kay was right.

That One Person

The last day of Passion 2012 the host Pastor, Lou Giglio talked about what one person could do. He spoke of how easy it is to sit back and say, "God will do it with or without me." I lack the answer to that but I do know that one person changed the course of my life by taking a chance on me.

It was late afternoon in early March and I was standing outside the fence of the Little League Baseball field that I played on as a youth and served as an assistant to my old coach one summer when I was fifteen.

The day had been so warm early that I was still clothed in shorts and a tee shirt. As the sun got lower I got cold and started to leave many times but I clung to that fence watching "Coach" conduct tryouts for a new group of kids.

Why was I even watching? I went with no goal in mind. This was during the days when kids had to tryout for a team. The coaches drafted players and the practice time and place for each team was printed in the newspaper. Ironically I had noticed this and for some odd reason I drove to the field that day.

I was nineteen and I had chosen about every wrong path a boy could. There was nothing positive in my life. I was not in school and I was not working. I had a nice criminal record already for marijuana distribution. "Coach" knew this because he came to visit me when I was waiting for trial. That is how it was with him. You played ball for him but regardless of age you remained one of his kids.

He noticed me and had walked over a couple of times and spoken. The practice was nearing the end and he walked over one last time. This voice inside of me mustered up enough courage to humbly ask, "Do you need any help coach?"

The most amazing thing happened. This man, probably 60 years old at the time, with his buzz cut and the boy standing in front of him with a criminal record and hair past his shoulders.  I will never forget his immediate response.

"Coach" had a gruff no nonsense manner of speaking. "You want to help me? Be at the school tomorrow at four o'clock." He turned and abruptly walked away.

I am certain he heard about his decision to allow me to help with the kids from the Optimist dignitaries who ruled with an iron fist and often a narrowness of mind. I never heard any of it. I was one of his kids and I believe that was all that mattered to him.

Why such a crossroad? Did I immediately turn from the party lifestyle I was living? No, but slowly changes happened. I loved sports and I loved being around those kids. I still had ideas of getting back to my illegal business activities. My dad who I rarely paid attention too said to me, "It sure would be a shame if you got into trouble again after the chance he has taken on you."

Ouch, I tried to dismiss that with my usual rationalization. I could not do it. He had gone out on a limb for me. He had given me a positive outlet when I had nothing positive.


I don't know where I would be if not for "Coach." Maybe arrested again like my partners who all suffered serious consequences within that year. Prison, or maybe death from the lifestyle. I was saved later by Jesus Christ, but only after I was rescued by an old ball coach.

I helped "Coach" for four more years and then I became head coach of a basketball team. The boys I coached were the same ages, ten to twelve. Every practice and game I took what I learned from "Coach."

One young man I coached was the grandson of "Coach's" brother, Doc. There is one moment in those 20 years of coaching that stand out as a true full circle moment. It is 1994 and my team is standing in the hallway celebrating winning the Tournament Championship.  Kevin, my former point guard, was now in college, and was helping me just as I had my old "Coach." Doc's grandson was on that team and he brought his brother, my "Coach" to the game. It was trophy presentation time and Kevin came up to receive his trophy. I said, "Just as I will always be "Coach's" boy. Kevin will always be my boy."  One thing I am certain of is that moment does not happen without "Coach."

I enjoyed great relationships with many kids. I am blessed to be in contact with some of them today fifteen years after coaching my last game. Ironically, when I communicate with them and though they are men with their families. I hope that they think it OK that I still view them as my kids. And if some of them think half as much of me as I do my old "Coach," and mentor Ed Wilson, then I am a blessed man beyond anything I could have hoped to derive from standing in the cold watching a man teach the art of baseball and so very much more. I love you Coach always, and I can never repay you for what you did for me.