A young boy had expressed an interest in baseball, and so for Christmas, the benevolent Old Coach gave the boy a baseball glove.  The glove was old, and yet perfectly broken-in.  It was clearly battle-tested, yet somehow seemed brand new.

The glove had been worn by the Old Coach’s only son, who was universally regarded as the Greatest of All Time.  Over the course of his career, he had never even made a single error. And although his playing career was brief, he had singlehandedly breathed life into a beleaguered franchise, carrying his team to a seemingly impossible victory.

The young boy was aware of the historical impact of the Old Coach’s son, and he thanked the Coach for the glove. 

But the boy had other ideas. He was going to do things his way…blaze his own trails…forge his own legacy.

So he left the perfect glove on the Old Coach’s shelf and chose to wear an oven mitt instead.

Predictably, the boy’s performance was abysmal, and his excuses were as plentiful as his errors. He blamed his parents, his teammates, his circumstances, the weather, COVID, and Donald Trump on numerous occasions. But he insisted on wearing the oven mitt every time he took the field.

The only time he had “success” was when he played against kids who were much younger…or children who didn’t know the rules of the game…or when he “played by his own rules” and rigidly imposed his unreasonable statutes upon other competitors.

The glove continued to collect dust on the Old Coach’s shelf, and many seasons of sorrow elapsed for the young boy.

But then one day, the boy sheepishly walked into the Old Coach’s office. He knew Coach would be there…he was always there. As tears streamed down his face, he simultaneously took off his oven mitt and took responsibility for his actions.

A few moments later, the Old Coach smiled as he gazed at the space on the shelf where that glove had previously been laid.

The space was empty😊