Sharketing: The World of Scott Vaughan

Baseball Tryouts: Put It In God's Hands

This is for all the dads who will march their boys off to baseball tryouts at the local high school.

The dads - and moms - who have watched a little boy grow from T-Ball to Coaches Pitch and then to "real pitching" in Minors. The switch flipped about 10 years old and the boy realized the scoreboard was important. Baseball became a year-round obsession with travel-ball seasons thrown into the mix. There were $100 gloves, $300 bats, $50 batting gloves, batting helmet, Under Armour, Mizuno Nine Spikes, Easton Stealth catcher's gear, and the best possible bat bag to carry it all. Many paid someone - a former coach or local star - for private or small-group hitting and pitching lessons. Trophies and championship T-shirts measured the boy's progress as a player and a team-mate. It rose above the dad's simpler years - collecting baseball cards, watching the professionals live or on TV or hearing them on the radio, and pick-up games in the backyard. No, now, baseball was a family culture. No, now, baseball was a community culture. Mom or Dad didn't worry about comparing their home or car to the neighbor - now they needed to keep their boy in the neighborhood conversation: "Your son made All-Stars? Wow, my son needs to make All-Stars."

I didn't wake up in 1988, when I became a daddy, and suddenly become a baseball fan. I can't remember not being a baseball fan. I kept a scorebook for televised Friday night Braves' games when I was 10. I was a high school sports writer. I drove to Atlanta Fulton Stadium to watch Braves games . . . by myself. I created my own baseball game similar to the famous Strat-O-Matic. My season lasted from April to August. I started coaching recreation baseball in 1983 - three years before I married; five years before my first son was born.

And, when Andrew was born . . . I put a Rawlings MLB 108-stitch baseball in the hospital nursery with him. This boy was going to play. When he could barely walk, I bought three dozen Wilson baseballs and piled them around him in the front yard. I was going to teach him how to pitch and how to hit.

He started playing in 1996. He was 8. He played a bit of outfield and a tiny bit at short, and that 16-1 team won its championship. The league gave out championship T-shirts. I was gone, baby, gone. Hook, line and sinker. In 1997, he played short on a 500 team and Bruce Mackay chose him to play All-Stars. I thought we'd won the lottery.

In 1998, he moved to Minors where the boys pitch. We came within a game of the championship. He was our second most-effective pitcher and a decent contact hitter. The coach nominated him for All-Stars, but it was a talent-rich division and he didn't make it. In 1999, he led our team in hitting with a 545 batting average, and was our best pitcher. He made the All-Star team.

In 2000 and 2001, he moved up to 11 & 12 ball. He was on two championship teams, playing third on the first and second/first on the second. His pitching days were over, but he was widely known as a sure fielder, a strong arm, and a great contact hitter. In 2001, he came within 2 feet of a walk-off home run to win the championship, but it was a long single. Four batters later he scored the winning run on a tag-up at third. After the celebration the umpire said to me, "There's no way I would have pitched to Andrew, leading off the inning." He played All-Stars that year.

In 2002 and 2003, he moved to 13 & 14 ball, and got bigger. He played on two mediocre teams, but his second year, he led the team in hitting and played first base all season . . . with only one error. In 2003, he entered the All-Star season and his hitting just exploded. The ball must have looked like a watermelon coming toward him. He killed it.

In the 8th grade, he tried out for the high school J-V team and survived the first cut, but was cut in the final round. That fall, Pat Frawley assembled the boys who were cut at the final round and they played travel ball together. When he went out for J-V as a ninth-grader, everyone whispered to me, "He's going to make it. No problem."

He looked good. He picked the balls out of the dirt at first. He was encouraged by the older players. Dads called me and said, "Andrew had a great tryout. He's got to be in." He even felt confident about it. But, I had this nagging feeling - was he really one of the top 7 players in his grade? How was that offensive line speed going to hurt his chances? He was neither a pitcher nor a catcher.

I took him up to the high school that fateful morning. He made the long walk to the gymnasium to see if his name was on the list. I was ready to puke. I could tell, as he walked back to me, that the news was not good. "I'm okay," he said and my Honor Student went off to do what he really did best - excel in the classroom.

Well, I thought, at least we have football, where he was Most Improved on the 8th grade team, and played every down at center on the ninth grade team. I'm miserably ashamed to say - at that moment, it felt like a consolation prize. Mitch Hudson and Sterling Frierson came to the rescue. Both were assistant coaches in the football program. Mitch had already mentioned, to Andrew, that he should try throwing shot and discus on the track team.

By that afternoon, just hours after the heart-wrenching news on the gymnasium door, Andrew had shifted to the high school track team. Two days later, surrounded by other football linemen at the shot and discus, my freshman said to me, "These are my people." That season, he lettered.

I remember praying, "Lord, I am so stupid. This boy is yours. I'm just the steward of his childhood. Wherever you need him to be and whatever you need him to do - do it. Just keep me from messing it up."

As a senior, he won region in the shot put. That day at South Aiken High School, when he edged out a boy from Irmo, I swear to you it was more exciting that any baseball game I've ever seen in my entire life. His senior year, he won the award for highest GPA on both the football and the boys' track teams. He was the booster club's all-round male academic athlete of the year (2007).

He went on to the University of South Carolina. Lynette Washington, who had coached him as a thrower during his senior year in high school, helped with some introductions. He walked on to the Gamecocks' track team. They switched him to the javelin. They put a redshirt on his freshman year. In Spring 2009, he was an SEC Academic All-American, lettered in track and field, and competed in javelin at the SEC championships in Gainesville, FL. I can't wait to watch him throw that "spear" this spring in Columbia, Athens and Knoxville.

Oh, I still love baseball. I will always cling to the ballpark, encourage boys and families, and nudge my youngest along in it. But, all the pressure is gone. Put your children in God's hands. He has a plan for them. It may not be the plan that you or the neighborhood have for them. But, I can tell you that when you come to that sweet spot in life - when you know that God is in control of what is His - there's no peace like it. <^>< 2010.

A new shampoo formula

This morning, I sat at the computer, reading my favorite news sites. My Vicki came into the room and said, "Did you notice anything different about the shampoo?"

Okay, last Friday, we made a Wal-Mart run. That's when we go to Wal-Mart and shop the perimeter for produce, bread, meat, milk, eggs, underwear, hardware, and pharmacy stuff. I've learned that shopping the perimeter is a lot safer than shopping the core. Anyway, Snook and I ended up in the pharmacy, where we stocked up on stuff like deodorant, shampoo, contact solution, razor blades . . . stuff like that. We use Head & Shoulders - and we bought the big bottle.

And, I've been using that Head & Shoulders since Friday. But, I noticed that there's something different about the formula. First, it doesn't lather; and second, it kinda leaves this "slimy feeling" on my hands. In fact, Friday night, I struggled so hard to get a lather that I ended up pouring A BUNCH on my head. It was a lot of work.

I used the shampoo again Saturday morning before baseball registration, and again Saturday night. And, again, this morning. It's not that I'm really dirty enough for four showers in 48 hours . . . it's just fun. And, that's all I'm saying about that.

And, we come to this morning, when my Vicki says, "Did you notice anything different about the shampoo?"

I said, "Heck, yea!" (Truthfully, I may not have said 'Heck.') And, then, "What's up with that new formula? I mean, I can't even get a good lather."

And, she looks at me, holding the bottle. "Scott, you've bought conditioner. It's not shampoo and conditioner. It's just conditioner."

"What the heck?" I say (again, not so sure about the 'heck' part). I grabbed the bottle. Sure enough, Head & Shoulders conditioner. But, but, but, it's the same bottle as the shampoo.

All this to say, I am going out again to purchase shampoo. Also, I haven't washed my hair since Friday morning, but I guarantee you it's the most conditioned hair in L-town! <^>< 2010.

Pride & Prayer

I'm pretty confident that the overall decline of today's church - spiritually and numerically - is due primarily to the de-prioritization of communication. Churches take a 'ho hum' approach to communicating within the church and within the community. That attitude leads to a breakdown in relationships. And, if the church isn't about healthy relationships . . . it's lost its transmission. Fix the communication system and a church will fix its relationships, and that leads to spiritual growth. From spiritual growth often, but not always, comes numerical growth.

But, as miserably as churches approach "horizontal communication" most fail miserably at "vertical communication," too. I visit a lot of church websites. I'm amazed at how few promote Prayer Ministry from the Home Page. Heck, I'm surprised at how few include the word prayer on the Home Page. You would think that, well, it's God's church and communication with God about His church would be a priority worthy of the Home Page. Right? Not so.

This "off the radar" and casual approach to prayer has sent an alarming message to those in the pew. People don't see prayer, often, beyond the table blessing, the bedtime prayer with small children, or the crisis prayer. All of these are good, sure thing, but prayer is necessary all the time and in many ways. Serious prayer warriors get to a place where the day begins with prayer . . . coffee is second; brushing teeth is third. Why wouldn't you want to start your every day with prayer before your feet hit the floor?

But, it goes even deeper. I love to pray for people. I love to lift people up to God. I love to pray for people in times of crisis, but I also love to pray for people just to be encouraged and joyful. But, I've learned that people react to prayer very interestingly.

For example, I've had more and more people share their heart-felt pain with me - financial, relational or physical. Before they can ask for prayer, I will say, "I will pray for you." I'm surprised at the reaction. It's like I've offered them government food stamps or accused them of needing welfare. I've had well-meaning Christians respond, "Well, oh, it's not quite that bad" and look around nervously to see who might be listening to this conversation. Funny. Pride gets in the way of Prayer.

When did that happen? It happened when the church started under-focusing on prayer . . . and over-focusing on the style of music.

Seek God first in all things. Seek believers who will pray with you, for you and over you. Make sure others see prayer as a priority in your life and the life of your church. <^>< 2010

Today is mama's birthday

My mama is 70 today, Jan. 5, 2010. I know you aren't supposed to make a big deal about a woman's age, but it's a milestone and I'm putting it out there. A part of me celebrates her birthday because had she not been born . . . well, I wouldn't be writing this little blog entry. Or, a mutated form of me would be anyway.

I have always been and will always be a "mama's boy." Truth be told, all boys are "mama's boys" . . . in a good way. We all hold this special place in our hearts for "mama." Yes, the relationship gets a little strained at times, but in the white hot moment of crisis - mess with our mama; mess with us. And, it ain't going to be pretty. (In my case, you will see the teeth - you will completely understand the shark).

Perhaps I should write this at Mother's Day, but somehow today seems and feels more appropriate. My mama won't read this blog so I will have to e-mail this to her. No, wait. She won't check e-mail either. I will have to text her to tell her to check e-mail. No, wait. She isn't dependable when it comes to her cell phone. Some of you may have to send her to this blog. I'll print a copy and mail it to her.

As she turns a beautiful 70 today, here are a few thank-you's from her oldest:

"Thank you, mama" for introducing me to my Savior, Jesus. Thank you for sitting on the edge of my bed, patiently answering my faith questions, and helping me pray that simple prayer. I am a two steps forward, one step backward believer - but I am a believer because you pointed me toward the cross. My present and future are secure.

"Thank you, mama" for making sure church involvement - far deeper than attendance - was a part of my life. Thank you for the sacrifice of making sure I was involved in all areas of church life. It helped God shape me into the church servant and ministry friend I try to be today. Thank you for modeling faith and church with your own life.

"Thank you, mama" for the little things. Every time we cook brownies or chocolate chip cookies, sometimes at 10 p.m., and for no good reason, I think of you. Every time we pull out a board game, I think of you. Every time we spontaneously go to the movies, I think of you. Every time we have a Big Mac on Christmas Eve, I think of you. Every time we take off to the swimming pool on a summer evening, I think you. You made our childhood - fun.

"Thank you, mama" for the sermons on peer pressure. Even at 50, I am scared to try a cigarette. (And, by the way, I never have). Thank you for setting boundaries and for putting the Fear of Nancy in us. Thank you, too, for saying "no" when you needed to say "no." Good parenting, I've learned, means telling your children "no" as much or more than telling them "yes." Thank you for corporal punishment, too, though at the time my butt didn't appreciate it. My life appreciates it now.

"Thank you, mama" for forgiving my mistakes. Thanks for reminding me, often, to stop "trying to out run God."

"Thank you, mama" for reading my first newspaper story, at 15, and forcing me to write it again. It was "awful" and the grammar was bad. Thanks for never telling what I wanted to hear; always telling me what I needed to hear.

"Thank you, mama" for making me (and Tim and Russ) learn to do laundry, to dust, to vacuum, to cook and clean. My marriage is sweeter - the partnership deeper - because my Vicki doesn't feel I'm dumping all the chores on her . . . just cause she's a woman.

"Thank you, mama" for making me go and serve. I'm such a home boy; you pushed me to go be an usher at Georgia football games, to get involved in scouts, to be a leader, to travel and see the world, to go away to college, to go and serve others, and to keep the circle of friendship open all the time. Every new friend that I have, in every place I've lived, has you to thank for the friendship.

"Thank you, mama" for saying "I love you" because every child needs to hear it, and we have never questioned your love for us. We always hear it. Still do.

Happy Birthday! ~ Scott. <^>< 2010

Family Time - The VFFL

Once upon a time, I wrote this advice to young parents: "If you want your children to grow up and enjoy coming home, you had better make sure their childhood home life is a fun and happy place." We migrate to fun and stress-free environments. We avoid tension. It's human nature and it's true.

As I look around at strong families, there are similarities. I belive that "love follows the laughter." When mama and daddy are laughing and loving together - children want to be around that. Heck, the friends of children want to be around that. The old adage is also true: "If mama ain't happy, no one is happy." What that really means is this: "If mama ain't happy, no one wants to be around mama." It's not something to brag about - the end game is loneliness.

Another characteristic of strong families is building tradition. Once, I taught a Sunday School lesson on building tradition. When I asked people to name their family traditions, it pretty much came down to this: (1) Annual beach vacation; and (2) Gathering in a hallway on Christmas morning before rushing in to see what Santa delivered. Gee whiz. If the latter is the extent of family creativity, when it comes to tradition, no wonder so many families are in trouble.

Vicki and I were careful, early in our marriage, to estabish our own simple family traditions. We were careful that these are not dependent on other families. I don't want my family's health tied to another family.

Aside from investing our lives together in local Dixie baseball, dressing as pirates at Halloween, Birthday morning muffins, and the like, our most rich family tradition is the Vaughan Family Football League (VFFL). The VFFL, started in 1996, is our family's annual NFL Fantasy League. I started it with a lot of vision, especially since Andrew was only 8, William was 5, and Richard was 2. They barely understood the NFL, much less its players. When Matthew was born in 1997, I added a team for him, and Vicki picked up a team, too. Matthew has never known a year on this Earth without the VFFL.

Now, as the boys are older and much more competitive, the VFFL is a lot more fun. We gather on Labor Day for the annual draft, and then play continues through the league's regular season. In the early years, the champion received a small trophy and got to choose an area restaurant for a family "victory dinner." One year, William chose a Japanese restaurant. We took the trophy and put it beside him. Everyone around us thought he had played on a championship football team. When we explained that it was a fantasy league team . . . they were really confused. I believe good family tradition is like a good "inside joke" - it's ours and everyone else is confused.

A few years ago, I abandoned the annual trophy and went to a large plaque that hangs in our family room. Each year, the new champion is added to the plaque. This way, we are reminded of the tradition - even during the off-season.

My team (Tail Beaters) won in 1996 and 2008. Andrew (Mean Machine) won in 1997. Vicki (Mama's Boys) won in 1998. Richard (Big Boys) won in 2000, 2001, and 2005. Matthew (Chicken Legs) won in 2003. William and his dreaded Tika Namu War Machine has won in 1999, 2002, 2004, 2006, 2007 and now in 2009. He has won, I might add, on the arm of Peyton Manning.

You don't have to start tradition when your children are little. We didn't begin dressing as Pirates for Halloween until Andrew was in high school. I'm about to launch another family tradition in 2010. But, I don't want to spill the beans here. I'll write about it later.

Make your home a genuine sanctuary of boundaries and fun and Family Time, including creative traditions that don't involve only Christmas. <^>< 2010.

Scorebooks

When I was little, growing up where rural north Georgia met the Atlanta suburbs, we obviously didn't get to see as much baseball as we can see today. There was no ESPN or Fox Sports. WSB (NBC at that time) television, Atlanta, would periodically telecast a Braves game on Friday night. On Saturday, we were able to watch Major League Baseball's game of the week. Saturday was when we got to see an occasional American League team play. Mostly, we followed our beloved Braves by listening to WSB (750 AM) radio. My brother Tim and I slept together, and we would listen to the Braves in bed. During the summer, we would sometimes sneak into the family car, turn the key to Alternator, and listen to the Braves. I don't remember attending my first Braves game, but they came to Atlanta from Milwaukee when I was about seven. It was at a Braves game that I was introduced to the 'scorebook,' and it was a thrill to buy a program so I could keep score during the game. When Ted Turner launched 'Channel 17,' which became WTBS, and opened the door for more Braves television, my Mema bought me a scorebook. I loved to watch the games on television, and 'keep the book.' That's why, today, I'm fascinated by the statistics in baseball, why I still keep the book when I coach, and why I coach based on statistic trends. <^>< 2010

Lift a glass of milk . . .

Most of my early New Year's celebrations originated in the company of my Mema - my maternal grandmother, Carolyn Yarbrough. My parents would be off to ring in the New Year with friends, and we would spend the night with Mema. After the death of my grandfather, Papa Paul, in 1967 - these New Year's spend-the-night parties served three purposes: (1) They provided easy "boy-sitting" for my parents; (2) They provided a place for us to chill away from home lest we accidentally burn home down; and (3) They prevented Mema from ringing in the New Year . . . alone.

Spending New Year's with Mema allowed us to accomplish the impossible . . . stay up until Midnight. We had never done that before. We accomplished it with her. Even if we dozed on the sofa, she nudged us awake just before Midnight so we could see the New Year ring in. I'll never forget the New Year's Eve that I managed to stay awake until Midnight. It was a big accomplishment . . . right up there with eating my first quart of chocolate ice cream in one sitting.

Mema introduced us to the Big Swing of Guy Lomardo and His Royal Canadians. Before there was Dick Clark's Rockin Eve (embarrasingly sad and undignified last night, by the way), there was Guy Lombardo, who brought his band to New York on New Year's Eve for the drop of the "big ball." No matter what we were watching on television, Mema switched it over to Guy Lombardo about 11:30.

About 11:50 or so, Mema would prepare "the toast," which was a glass of cold milk. Each of us had a glass and we would all stand and shout the countdown to "Happy New Year!" Then we would clink our little "jelly glasses" (jelly came in glasses that you could wash and continue using) together and chug that milk down. Yep, Mema clinked hers with us, too.

Once I could drive, I started spending my New Year's Eve in other places, either at home or with friends. My close friends and I even began to throw New Year's Eve parties once we got to college. But, I need to confess something to you: I still sneak around and drink a bit of milk just after the clock strikes 12. I did last night as a matter of fact.

Never will I forget how my grandmother took a simple little holiday expression and made it really special for a small band of goofy boys. <^>< 2010.

The Beginning

For more than 30 years, I've written stories about my life, my family and my adventures. Many, many of these have appeared in newspapers like The Forsyth County News and The Forum newspapers (Cumming, GA), The Press-Sentinel (Jesup, GA), The Statesboro Herald (Statesboro, GA) and The Dispatch-News (Lexington, SC). I've won editorial awards from both the Georgia and South Carolina press associations. Many of my stories have also appeared in more than 600 weekly Sunday School (Bible Study) lessons written for my adult class at Lexington Baptist Church, Lexington, SC.

For the past year, I've experimented - a little - with adding these stories as Notes to my page on Facebook. Now, I've decided to put them in a blog. The name Sharketing comes from the merger of Shark and Marketing. It's not original, but it sums me up pretty well. My business, Scott Vaughan Communications, uses a shark in its brand. You can read why at www.svministry.com.

I'm starting out with a few basic categories. We'll grow from there.

Blessings in 2010 and beyond,

Scott Vaughan