Sinking ship or old faithful tug boat?

What are the warning signs of a sinking ship? Unwanted/unneeded weight, untimely faltering and sputtering of the engine, unwanted holes in the middle of the boat, and taking on water.
What are the signs of a tug boat? A Tug-boat is slow, loud, smokey and ugly. It will never win any beauty contests, boat races, or "boat with the most silent motor" awards. It appears unsafe, but the Tugger always gets to its destination, no matter what. Not always on time, but it gets there when it gets there. Slow and steady.
Final analysis: We made some mental mistakes (again) continually stranded guys on base, hit the ball at defenders all day and failed to move people over. A sure sign of a sinking ship? The reality is this, we won the game. Was it pretty, was it the definition of solid softball, was it easy? No, no style points, no "great game" awards, just a victory. Despite the struggles, at the end of the night the tug boat is docked. Sure we had chances to blow the roof off of the game, but we didn't. We struggled, but we won. To me that is NOT a sinking ship, that is a rickety old boat that just simply hung tough and found a way to win when they had to = DOCKED BOAT. Could this tug boat make a few more waves before the season ends? I think so

The Trip

Over 4 days on the road/sand with 26 middle schoolers, 8 coaches and 4 guides = "Dangerous, Dangerous...." If I don't touch sand until next year's Trip, I'm okay with that.

Wed at camp consisted of running, and yelling, and running. To the students it was fun, to the coaches it was a means to break them down and make them tired and sleepy...Plan failed. Thursday - Headed out to the water. Everyone got a canoe partner and paddled "all day". Which turned out to be about 2 hours. How quickly we were reminded that middle schoolers can be whiners! We stayed that night on the beach, and so began the battle against the sand. We ran and ran and ran again in hopes of wearing them down so they would sleep...plan started to work.

Friday - Much of the same with one mishap that made heroes out of Cameron, Ryan and Derrick.

Saturday - Had lunch outside in the pounding heat. The complaints were thicker than the humidity. We then went spelunking in a cave. That was a crazy experience that everyone at least tried. The cave was actually cold inside, so you can imagine the new complaints that were flying about how cold it was! We came back to camp to run and run and break them down...plan worked a little more!

Sunday - We got up, packed and started the journey home. All was good and quiet until they discovered "Amp, Monster, Sobe"...the energy quickly came back and it was a long ride home.

Overall 1 student was saved and 24 of the 26 students publicly claimed to have made some decision during the week about getting LOST in GOD.

Benny the Bull

I was simply enjoying the entertainment of the professional athlete and showman known around the world as Benny the Bull. There were nearly 200 kids swarming for his attention and affection. Of all those people, he turns to me, me! I guess in his endless pursuit of being a world class entertainer he saw me as a prime "photo opportunity". He sent out an invitation for me to play a little one-on-one. I obliged, simply to help him fulfill his duties, desires, hopes, dreams and large paycheck. Obviously, the fan favorite, he quickly gained fan support in order to make an example of the tall, stringy fellow. My eyes saw this; a cocky little son-of-a-gun who needed a little dose of humble pie. He blew by me with ease, but in basketball, to get past Aaron Koehler, is not to have beaten Aaron Koehler. As so learned by Benny on that fateful night. His rise to the rim was swift, graceful, and gentle. However, the abrupt result of my right hand stopping all progress and motion, redirecting his dunk into the backboard and back into my hands, was NOT what he had intended. My enjoyment of seeing the Legendary Benny tumble to the ground in embarrassment was not shared by many.

Fully clad in his big, red, fuzzy suit, the spotlight was his, until that moment. And he wanted it back, badly. Hence, him coming back for more, slapping the ground and waving his hands, as if to say, "bring it on, oh great haired one". I did as the entertainer asked. I brought it right between his legs and to the rim for a monster one handed, Amare Stoudamire dunk. Coincidentally enough, the very dunk he wanted me to witness. I never heard another word from Benny that night.