Tough Love & Discipleship

A couple of weeks ago two of my former coaches achieved some significant career milestones. My dad and high baseball coach, Joe Fowler, collected his 800th head coaching victory on a Thursday afternoon. 48 hours later Mark Pollard of Carl Albert State College followed up by recording his 1000th win as skipper for the Vikings. One of these men my father and the other a father figure for my first two years of college, are similar in this: they are competitors that teach, coach, and lead through what is best described as tough love.

Signing Day - July 6, 1999

It's ironic to me that these men would celebrate such big wins within the same week. Growing up Dad was quite hard on me, especially when it came to baseball. I remember an occasion when a school board member approached Dad after one of our losses (not a good idea) and told him to ease up on me, as he felt my old man had gone too far in punishing me for my lousy pitching performance. Back then Dad was a pretty prolific chewer of tobacco. So often after some heated one-sided visits on the mound (heart to heart moments he called them), my face would look like the interior walls of a brass spittoon. To say the least, his means of motivation were anything but gentle. I recall thinking as a high school player, "Man, no one will ever get all over me like Dad!" Then I signed to play ball for Coach P at Carl Albert.

Juco ball was much different than anything I had experienced in my small school HS athletic days; the level of competition was superior to what I had played in American Legion. With a limited amount of scholarships and a tradition of winning, playing in college was accompanied with far greater expectations as well. Coach Pollard was a proven winner that demanded we play the game a certain way. While it was not rare for his teams to have some very gifted athletes, for the most part, his rosters consisted of young men that simply played with a lot of heart – tough guys that were too stubborn to quit, too proud to give in. Some stepped on campus with this kind of disposition while others picked it up from P. Needless to say, all had this trait refined under his leadership.

He developed a competitive fire in his guys, readying us for battle on the field, by pushing us both mentally and physically. Beyond the normal strains of off-season training and practice, his methods included plenty of what we shall refer to as up-close and personal, corrective, motivational type discussions. If my dad was intimidating in high school, then Coach P was downright terrifying (at least at times). It is at this point that I must avoid the temptation of carrying on with story after story of what Springsteen calls the "Glory Days." Instead, I'd like to briefly consider the tough love element of their leadership and reflect upon what it has taught me about the gospel and effective discipleship.

1. We must love and care for each other well enough to call each other out. Neither of these men ever won a single game because of their players’ self-esteem. They never told their ball clubs how awesome they were; never did they spend practice time telling their players how lucky the game of baseball was to have them. No, they actually pointed out the areas that would have to improve if the team was going to succeed. God’s Word never makes much of man; rather it reveals how all of us fall short of His perfect mark (Romans 3:9-12, Romans 3:23). Now, as I’ve said before, we must be sure to articulate the finished work of the cross; we must spend time elaborating on how Christ atoned for our sins once and for all (Romans 6:8-10). Nothing more is needed. At the same time, He did this because of His great grace, not because we were worthy of such a gift (Ephesians 2:1-5, 8).

In this day of handing out trophies and participation ribbons like it's the oxygen we need to live, this is a hard message to hear. But to be clear, the good news is only received as good, after there is a firm understanding of the bad news – that on our own, we are helpless, guilty, entirely insufficient and unworthy to stand before a holy, perfect God. This is why the Son was sent. He took on flesh and dwelt among us so that He might redeem us (John 1:14, Titus 2:14). He came not because we are awesome, but because we are far from it. Incapable of holiness, He took our place and absorbed the punishment we deserved on the cross (1 John 4:10). He took on our sin so that we might receive His righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Clip from the paper about Dad's 400th win.
I had the privilege of pitching that one.

Yet when we consider relational discipleship, I wonder if we understand the importance of being able to lovingly challenge one another. It’s not really a surprise that my baseball coaches were concerned with my performance on the field. However, one of the things I am most grateful for is the fact that they cared for me off the field as well. I often suspected it as a kid, but understand it much better now. Growing up money was tight for us and Dad struggled to make ends meet. As a single-parent teacher and coach, he didn’t necessarily have a lot of extra cash to spend each month. Nevertheless, we always had food on the table and found a way to play ball each summer. Dad knew I loved the game, so he made sacrifices so that I could do what I most enjoyed. Though he has markedly grown in his faith since those early days, even then Dad made sure I was at least positioned to hear God’s Word weekly. At the time I largely ignored what the Word called me to do, but it still permeated my heart. So much so that I couldn’t walk in disobedience without rightly being convicted by what I knew to be true.

It was the scattered seeds of Scripture that Dad put before me that Coach Pollard later watered (albeit probably without even knowing). On a couple of occasions Coach P recognized my behavior as being inconsistent with what I professed. Rather than allowing me to proceed down that path, thankfully, he called me out. He challenged me with what I claimed to believe. I’m not sure how impactful it was in the moment, but 15+ years later, I’ve not forgotten it. To effectively love, we must care enough to show folks where they’re wrong.

2. It helps if we’ve experienced what we are encouraging in others. I remember my freshmen year of college. All the sophomore pitchers were talking with Coach P about going to the World Series the year before and the remark was made, “Fowler, yeah, he’s never been to the rodeo.” As they laughed and reminisced, I recall wanting so badly to be able to relate. See, they all knew what it would take to get back to the Series. They had been there already. This wasn’t Coach’s first rodeo; he knew how to win. And because of this, he was able to prepare me for the role I would play. If we want to see others faithfully chase after the Lord, it is imperative that we too have tasted of His goodness. If we want to see others mortify the sins of the flesh, perhaps we ought to wage war against our own struggles. Because of their experience, their words held weight.

But perhaps this is discouraging; maybe it seems too daunting a task, for you are still quite new to this Christianity thing. You were not seeking this treasure, but rather stumbled across it in a field (Matthew 13:44). You don’t have much experience and you’re not sure whom you are to emulate (1 Corinthians 11:1, Philippians 2:1-11, 1 John 2:6). Well, consider my next point and take heart.

3. We must be in the battle ourselves. It wasn’t the trophies collecting dust on his file cabinet or the plaques hanging crookedly on the wall of his coach’s office that inspired me to compete for my dad. No, I played hard for him because he was competing with me. Like Pollard, Dad wasn't content with past victories; he was hungry for more and this approach transferred over to his players. I left it all on the diamond for these men because I knew that they were for me. That’s why my father stood his ground against that board member. He believed that I needed to be challenged. His tough love was not superfluous but was intended for my good. It’s why he charged the field in a little league game. When an upset coach of the opposing team started pointing fingers and angrily approached the mound, barking accusations against me, my dad quickly came between us and was in my defense in the blink of an eye.

This is why P would argue with the ump behind the plate. He was our team’s advocate, but specifically on the days that I was hurling, he was my biggest proponent. He was there to plead my case because he was in the battle with me. Nowhere does the Bible say that we have to have all the answers, nor are we told to wait until we are experts. Actually, it appears that all we need is the awareness that we are in need (1 Corinthians 1:26-31, 2 Corinthians 12:9-10). As followers of Christ, reconciled to the Father through the Son, we are called to be about His ministry of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:17-20). As disciples, we are to make disciples, knowing that we can compensate for all we lack in experience, through the Spirit’s strength, by simply striving alongside others (Matthew 28:18-20).

Well, I could end here and as a former pitcher, it would make sense, right? – 3 takeaways, 3 strikes records and out, 3 outs retires the side, 3 up, 3 down, etc. However, 4 balls results in a walk and if you give up a bomb, the hitter touches all 4 bases, and I was always much more consistent with serving those up. So, lastly, here’s takeaway number 4. If we want to be effective in discipleship, we must realize the following…

4. Trust and respect must be earned before tough love can be understood. While tough love is a necessary component to discipleship, it requires a commitment of time and devotion. When you’re a kid (which is exactly what I was throughout my college career), you can partially comprehend what’s happening, but not fully. Through all the hard conversations, I knew then (or believed) that Coach Pollard had my best interests at heart, despite how I felt. Yet what most grew my love and admiration for the man was when he showed up at my little sister’s funeral. Between my freshman and sophomore year, my dad and stepmom had a baby girl, Adena Joe. She was a sweet little thing but born with a chromosomal abnormality that never allowed her to leave the hospital. She lived just a couple days and we only had a brief few moments of actually holding her before she passed. It was a really hard thing to experience, and while I was brokenhearted, it completely devastated my parents.

I never called Coach to let him know about our loss, and to this day, I’m still not sure how he knew about the grief we were experiencing. But I do know this: when he pulled up to the church for the memorial service that afternoon, I immediately knew what my heart had struggled to know for sure. This man loved me, and my family. I was more than just a baseball player; I was part of his extended family.

This is not only effective in discipleship; it is essential to any true discipleship effort. If it is not clear that we love the people we are trying to reach, if there is no established trust with them, then a harsh word is just a harsh word. A loving rebuke is not received by just anyone. It is to be administered by a brother that has proven his care – by one who has been there before, by one who is fighting the same good fight (Proverbs 27:6).

After regionals my freshman year.

I’m proud of these men and all they have accomplished. I’m proud to have been associated with them and some of the special teams they’ve coached. It’s pretty cool to know that I’ll forever be linked to the legacies they will one day leave behind. I’m grateful for them. Because of them I will forever love the game of baseball. Yet way more importantly, because of their tough love, I’ve been able to better understand the complexities of the gospel and what is required for effective discipleship. To be clear, this blog is not an attempt to canonize these old coaches as patron saints of baseball. There are other men that would be a much better fit for that. No, these men carry their own baggage and blemishes like us all. I write today to say thanks and congratulations.

Dad, thanks for the countless afternoons and early evenings you spent with me in the backyard and the endless hours you spent driving me all over the state, just so I could play ball. It was mainly about baseball for me back then. But today I reflect on those summers we were given, and I’m grateful that baseball provided an excuse for us to spend so much quality time together. Congrats on 800!!

Coach Pollard, thank you for giving me the opportunity to play for you. I’ve often said this to others but will officially put it in print. I would never have played for another coach like you! But had CASC turned into a four-year school before my junior year, I would have gladly given you my last two seasons. Thank you for loving me like a son while I was in Poteau. It took quite a few years beyond junior college to figure some stuff out, but you have helped me become the husband and father I am today. I'm still a mess, but you helped teach me how to compete for more. Congrats on 1000!!

These men will be remembered as great in my mind, not because of their successes on the field, but because those achievements are a mere drop in the bucket compared to the impact they have made in the lives of so many young men off the field. So let me close with a few questions. How do you want to be remembered? Are you willing to say the hard thing? Will you say it? Can you receive it? Will you shy away from tough love? Are you willing to invest the time and energy necessary to earn the right to be heard? And finally, what must be done so that life’s most important lesson might be learned?

Thank God for tough old coaches and what they can teach us about discipleship.

Matt Fowler
Associate Pastor of Missions & Students
matt@nbchurch.info
@fattmowler