My daughter and her boyfriend come up one afternoon to assist my progress. Kalie is a devout snowboarder who has only been on skis a couple times. Mark is a ski racing coach and had recently certified as a snowboard instructor (I think daughter had a bit of influence in that). We rent skis for Kalie and hit slopes. I made her “balance glass”, “get down lower”, “create a wider stance” and “get those hands up”. She willingly co-operates. Mark’s job is to criticize my teaching techniques and NOT adjust anything Kalie was doing. Previously, he had tried to teach her how to ski. That event had ended with Kalie plunking herself down in middle of run and refusing to move any farther – I am trying to avoid a repeat scenario. By end of afternoon, we are making our way down blue runs - incredibly slowly - but with style and grace of a beginner skier. What success!

Day 3 – There is a couple inches of powder in morning. We are at hill early again to get those extra runs in. I ski with Matt; he’s a twin tip free style skier whom I thoroughly enjoy skiing with. He pushes me hard, makes me take jumps and try tricks that I’d normally bail on. We decide to do one free run and then get serious and practice stuff we’re trying desperately to perfect. On our first run, we’re making fresh tracks, carving hard, flying down hill. I glance over my shoulder and Matt is on my tail, completing figure eights … BACKWARDS … as fast as I’m going forwards. It’s a beautiful thing! We skip serious runs and continue carving. I’m elated, it’s such a good feeling … I can do this and I will survive!

The morning class goes not bad (not yet a happy place, but not bad). Just before lunch, I do an extra run with Patrick and a few others to see how we are progressing. Egad! You want me to get rid of what? How can that be? It’s never been mentioned before (maybe there were too many other things that needed work and this was left behind - literally). Yet another flaw in my stance - obviously one I’d worked on too hard and result was … I now skied with an extremely exaggerated pose. A pose that I needed to get rid of by tomorrow! This will not make me cry (although it is definitely a prime opportunity to switch from goggles to mirrored shades, focus on focusing, and work rapid eye movements). Is there no end to this adapting/adjusting?

During day three, we also have to demonstrate teaching a lesson (applying all skills we’d learned). I’ve been working on my lesson plan all week; I’ve practiced and rehearsed it, tested it out, even brought treats to entice pretend students. However, section of hill I am assigned to use today is nearly flat – we’re talking gaining minimal speed if you pushed really hard on your poles. Obviously, skills I'd previously selected and practiced are not going to work, and here I am, stumped in front of group (brain scrambled and trying desperately to reconfigure prior to meltdown). The day feels like an emotional roller coaster.

By evening, I convince myself that I will phone Patrick in morning to tell him I‘m not coming. I'd completely maxed out on frustration, hated thought of having to work at skiing (let alone ever teach anyone to ski), and just am not confident that I’ll succeed. My supportive family members tell me to suck it up, get up there! They're always behind me, totally encouraging and emphatic to my needs – NOT!!!

Day 4 – Today I bring tunes with me. The whole group does some free runs together. One of tests on final day, is ski off. The tension for this has been building from beginning of course. The mere mention of ominous “ski off” turned student’s faces tense and frowns would appear. It looms threateningly ahead - just down that next run. I naturally assume my mother hen position at back of pack. I admire guy that goes first – what courage! One person at a time; group watches each skier take their turn. Occasionally we discreetly glance at stern faces of instructors. Definitely no clues from them as to how we have done – they appear focused, converse in hushed voices and scribble notes after each skier. My turn. Prior to ski off, I have mustered up a new attitude - with a bit of a beat. My new outlook dictates that although I am barely comfortable doing what I am doing, it’s too late to change anything else, so I am just going to have fun with it and bee bop down run. Away I go. Now there is one more teaching lesson to work through and course is done, marks are tallied. We wait nervously for report cards to be distributed.

I have this deal with Matt for revealing pass/fail marks when we receive our results. The deal is if I didn’t tell him, he is not allowed to ask in group setting. Reason being, if it is bad it might not be a pretty scene and I’d rather control composure until we were out of sight. I am reluctant to open mine. Some people had already started high fiving and pounding backs. I lean way back, trying to stay out of main flow of activity, take a deep breath, and pull out top corner of paper. There is a Pass grade for skiing, and another Pass for teaching. I check it again just to be certain … they definitely read PASS! WOW, from everything I’ve been through – this is a total shock!! I could feel Matt glancing over and from his grin I could tell he’s happy, but a bit hesitant as to how I’m doing. High Five Matt!! I’m on my way to getting red suit.

Brent Hahn and Patrick Cais ran an excellent course. They were so patient and I know there were numerous times when they would have quite willingly choked me and thrown me over a cliff with my continual “show me”, “what?”, “do that again!,” and my all time favorite, “I don’t understand this!”.

Red ski school suits have been traditional color since 70's. It is a visible color for clients to follow and is easily recognizable on hill. It is CSIA National Ski School color, and majority of ski schools use it. The CSIA is longest running non-profit organization in Canada, over 65 years now. It has a membership of 23,000 and growing.

As time went on and I started to get more involved with coaching my own team and Dimitri, getting to see Evan practice was difficult. His catching and throwing seemed to improve slightly but his hitting was same. But somehow he hung in there, and fortunately, rest of his teammates never made fun of him. There was camaraderie with boys and coaches. The coaches continued to be supportive and encouraging.

Then games started for real. Evan would play for an inning or two in right field and typically bat just once. He had made a couple of nice plays in outfield but his batting consisted of either walking (rarely) or striking out (mostly). He never complained nor did his attitude change. Come practice or game time he was eager to be out there, listen to coaches, and enjoy practice of being a kid with rest of his teammates. The team lost their first game of year. Afterwards dejection and silence emanating from dugout was prevalent except from Evan. He made a statement heard by all, “hey it’s only one game, and we are not going to lose them all”. I was stunned to hear him say that, but very proud. So were his coaches. Evan had no idea how winning was all that most kids knew playing under Frank, but he brought it all into perspective. The team bounced back with some wins. They were not going to be dominating team they were last year, but they still were among top. But as games went on, he still struck out for his only time at bat. But coaches still kept encouraging him. Frank kept saying not to be discouraged and Phil kept working on his swing.

One day coming home my wife was elated. She told me at practice Evan practically hit every ball that Frank threw to him. This was confirmed by Evan who was noticeably excited by this new development. He started to build confidence. I went to next practice and noticed that, although he missed a few and kids were still gathering around pitching mound when he batted, he did get bat on ball. What I also experienced was something you do not see often. The parents of kids, particularly stars of team, showed a lot of interest in progress of Evan. He was kid to really root for, underdog. They were very supportive of him.

Dimitri and I had just finished a practice with our own team and headed to Little League field where Evan was having a game. We arrived around 5th inning. The team was winning 4-0. Evan had not batted yet. He saw me and without hesitation asked if we could get Chinese food after game. At first I told him no, since my wife had prepared a really nice dish. He is crazy about food and dejection gave him a sour pus. I then said to him that if he got a hit I would get him Chinese food. He relayed this information to Jeff scorekeeper. Jeff is a school teacher and father to one of ployers. He has a very upbeat attitude, a lot of enthusiasm and a great liking towards Evan. He came to me and said there may be a possibility that he may not get to bat due to his position in lineup and game being late in innings. But he assured Evan I would get him Chinese food anyway.

As it turned out Evan got a chance to bat. There were two outs and a man on base. The kid from opposing team still looked pretty good and throwing hard. Evan had always remarked that he felt pitchers he opposed threw very hard so I always felt he came to plate already intimidated. The first pitch thrown was high but Evan swung at it and managed to foul it off. A foul ball from Evan was a cause to celebrate and he received applause from his teammates and from parents. The next pitch was also high and Evan put his bat on ball cleanly. It was a grounder between second and first basemen into right field. A clean hit.

The applause was as if someone hit a homerun. I turned to my wife and gave her a big hug and a kiss. She was elated. I looked at my son at first base and he was beaming. That look of satisfaction was enough to send through my heart this warmness and elation that stopped time, and for a moment I was living his moment. The more he smiled, more I smiled. The boy was walking on air. The ball was retrieved by coaches so that he could have it signed by his teammates. They did not score and inning had ended, but rousing high fives and genuine love kids and parents had for this wonderful moment caused him to finally feel like he contributed, he was really part of this team. The elation did not stop. I have never seen him run so fast to his position in right field.

After game had ended, I turned to Frank, Phil, and Kevin and told them all “Good job guys”. Just a normal thing to say but it carried a lot of emotion. The base hit was a confirmation. The desire to keep on trying, never give up, encouraging others who are less skilled than you. This is what game should be about. A lesson about life and love.

I took him to get Chinese food, just both of us. I looked at him and said that was a really special moment. He just smiled and said, “Yeah, it really was, I got a base hit”. No son, you and I got more than that.