Competitive presence leads to major milestone for Jensen
I was a helmet thrower.
A bat tosser.
I’ve always a small amount Carlos Zambrano in me.
And, when I un-plucked each one angrily, the fingers of no batting glove were free of peril. This weakness, the showing of emotion, often is referred to negatively. For me, it started at a young age, but I most remember the competitive spirit in little league baseball.
And there was one bat toss I remember. The final bat toss. I happened like this...After a strikeout in fifth grade, I huffed back to the dugout. My head down. I was angry.
I pitched the bat sideways, the way you throw a hook ball in bowling. Quickly spinning, like a tight spiral, the bat headed for the chain linked fence, then caromed back, landing at the feet of the on-deck hitter. My teammate.
I remember thinking.
I just messed up.
I wasn’t reprimanded right then.
The inning was complete. Here comes Casey’s West skipper, Dick Bergstrom.
I grab my glove, a red-tinted Rawlings. Then jog out of the dugout, on a line toward shortstop. Bergstrom waves me to his side. I stand there. He says nothing.
He then waves another player to shortstop. Where am I going to play?
Bergstrom points to the bench.
I’m going to play the bench. Off I go. Red-tinted Rawlings and I trek back to the bench, even with thermometer standard for summer, the bench was cold.
Right there, between Larry Peterson and Bergstrom, I sat.
For two innings, I spectated.
During that time I mulled the bat throwing indecent. The first inning, I was pissed at Bergstrom. How could he bench me? It wasn’t that bad, I barely tossed the bat? I didn’t hurt anyone.
This was me being young.
The skipper knew what he was doing, teaching a lesson.
By inning two, I went from anger to remorse. From that day forward, I did not throw a bat. I’m not saying over the next seven years, I didn’t slam an aluminum Omaha on the bat rack with a little extra authority.
That’d be lying.
In high school, I chucked black helmets. And in college, I threw blue helmets. I guess, in college, I waited, normally, until I could get behind the dugout, away from others. I don’t condone the actions, but the act was hashed in competitive spirit.
More than anything, competition is what draws us to athletics, especially me.
I respect athletes who hate being defeated. That’s me.
Occasional emotion is not all bad.
Refusing to be beat makes for a good athlete.
And makes a good coach.
Coaches like Dan Jensen of Murray. The word effectively describes the ultra thin, extra tan Jensen. Last month, in the Orient-Macksburg Tournament, Jensen record a remarkable milestone, earning his 600th victory. All of which were tallied in his 29 year coaching career with the Lady Mustangs.
“I’ve been blessed with great girls over the last 29 years,” Jensen said in an interview Tuesday. “And I am proud of the fact, they came a small community like Murray. This milestone is a credit to the dedication of all the girls who played for me.”
“And it also proves, that if you live long enough, you can hit a milestone or two,” he joked.
In 29 years, Jensen has had just seven losing seasons. Murray picked up steam in the 90’s
In 1997, Murray made the regional finals but was defeated by Woodward-Granger. And Murray was solid after the millennium. In 2005, Jensen and the Lady Mustangs made it to the state tournament behind pitcher Marla Jackson as well as five other all-staters named after the tournament.
“That’s quite an accomplishment,” Orient-Macksburg coach Dan McKinney said of the milestone. “I didn’t realize he had that many. It’s a feat that not many accomplish. He’s had some good pitchers, some great teams and some mediocre teams. But what makes him a good coach, is that he’s such a competitive man.”
“It’s been a combination of longevity and him doing a good job with his girls,” Creston coach Mike McCabe said. “In my early time here, in the 90’s, they had a nice run. But regardless of the year, his kids always played hard and were fundamentally sound.”
Often times, a competitive presence, depends on the athlete.
But it also can be instilled by coaches. The other night, we made the trip to Denison. It was a different atmosphere there. Don Lyons, the head baseball coach for the Monarchs, refused to allow his team to be silent. When the sound went dull in the dugout, he’d forcefully say: “Are you guys in the game?”
Even as many games as Lyons has coached.
He still had the passion for the game.
And the competitive edge.
Jensen instills the same competitive edge. The other night at East Union, he called a steal. His player stole second. It was going to be a close play. Jensen moved down the baseline, kneeled down in a catchers stance to get a better view. She was safe.
Were talking about a coach who’s been on third base for 29 years.
And he’s still bouncing down the baseline, in third inning of a non conference game to see the verdict of stolen base. To often in sports, especially professional sports, emotion is absent. I’m not saying, go throw a bat. Or throw a helmet. But I’m saying, care about the outcome of the game.
It worked for Lyons. He just earned his 500th.
And it’s worked for Jensen, 600 times.
And the number rolls on for both.
