After 20 Years, We're at the Right Place at the Right Time and Still Having A Ball
- Allan Shedlin
- 2 hours ago
- 6 min read
By Scott Beller
Daddying Editor
Late last month, I was having coffee using one of the many family photo mugs I've created over the past two decades. This particular mug included a shot of me with the kids at a baseball game posing with a ball I'd just caught, and it got me thinking about lucky breaks and how even little things can significantly affect how our lives unfold.
I've been to a lot of professional baseball games over the years but never been lucky enough to have caught a foul ball.
One time, while in college and on a trip to spring training down in Florida, one of my friends was coming back from the concession stand and had a foul ball bounce right to him in the tunnel just as he reentered the bleacher seats. Without a second thought, he turned to a little kid and tossed the ball to him. That kid probably felt like he'd just caught the last out in the World Series and been given a championship ring. It's the kind of moment – a simple joy – you never forget.
I was only a witness and I've never forgotten it.
When I was 30, I played in an adult baseball league with a bunch of former college players and a couple minor-leaguers. We were playing a double-header at Georgetown University and in the stands was a group of pediatric AIDS patients from the university's hospital that had been invited to attend by the player-manager of our team.
Afterwards, the kids were invited down onto the field to meet the players and have some baseballs signed as souvenirs. As members of the "North Yuma" Yankees, my teammates and I, of course, were wearing the iconic pinstriped uniforms and "NY" logo as we greeted these children, who were excited to meet us and get our autographs.
As he handed me his ball, the first little boy I met, maybe 6 or 7 years old, asked with a huge smile, "Are you the REAL Yankees?"
I didn't know what to say. To him, on that day, we were. Our uniforms confirmed it (we'd also swept the double header). So, I just returned his smile, signed his ball, and said, "Yep, thanks for being here to watch us play."
Right place, right time.
I hope that happy, brave little boy grew up, got many more autographs from real professional ballplayers, and never forgot his first. It was the first autograph I ever signed and I know I'll never forget it.
Fast forward to a couple of years ago. My Red Sox were in town to play the Washington Nationals the weekend before our family was to head out of town for a summer beach vacation. It would be the only game we'd see in-person with the kids that season, so I figured I'd splurge on good seats down close the visitor's dugout along the 3rd-base line.
At the end of each home-team at-bat, then Red Sox 3rd baseman Rafael Devers would exit the field and flip the last-out ball in a high arc over the protective netting into the stands where dozens of eager fans, like hungry koi awaiting breadcrumbs, would rise to snatch it. In the 3rd or 4th inning, thanks to my height and reach, I got one from Raffy. We snapped a pic to commemorate the moment, then I gave the ball to my youngest daughter. Not sure exactly where it is now. Snagging that ball meant something to the little kid inside me, but being there at that game in those seats with (and mostly because of) my kids meant everything.
Right place, right time.
My wife Elisabeth and I celebrated our wedding anniversary last month, on a Wednesday, with a quiet dinner at home with our daughter. Not a lot of fanfare. We asked her if she knew which anniversary we were celebrating. After admitting she didn't, she guessed "twenty-two?"
When we told her it was actually our 20th, she asked, "Isn't that a big one? Why aren't you doing something... more?" Fair question.
We assured her we had plans for a getaway to Charleston, SC, while she spent her spring break with high-school crewmates at rowing camp. But on that night, we felt like we were right where we wanted to be. Home with her. Together.
The next day, my daughter and I were discussing colleges, student activities, and careers, among the many other choices she'll soon be making. The conversation prompted me to share some of the decisions I had made in my younger days, including leaving the University of Missouri for Virginia Tech, becoming a PR writer instead of a journalist, and moving to Dallas for another agency job vs. going back to school to pursue something else, that ultimately led me to meeting her Mom and having the best kids any Dad could hope for.
I mentioned the concept of "sliding doors" and the plot to the 1998 Gwyneth Paltrow film of the same name that follows two different storylines based on whether or not a woman makes her train before the doors close. This may have convoluted my message to her, but it all boils down to this:
You'll make so many decisions in your life and may feel like any one may ruin it or ensure your success forever. But labeling a decision "good" or "bad" is relative. It's how you respond and adapt to the consequences that matters. Do what's right for you. Be prepared for success or "failure." And know you can always change your mind and follow a new path.
Eventually, you'll arrive in the right place, at the right time. Create your own "luck."
For me, that was April 2003, when I met Elisabeth. We got married three years later on March 25, 2006. We had our first child in September 2007, and our second in August 2009. I've made many decisions, big and small, since I was a junior in high school, taking SATs and contemplating colleges, like my youngest is now. Many of them took me on detours and may have been mistakes I would rather have avoided. But they all led me here. Now.
Knowing my little family is the sum of all those choices, I can honestly say I regret nothing. I have never been perfect, but my family has been perfect for me. They bring me joy every single day.
I have no doubt I'm in the right place. But sometimes, I wish time would slow down. I may never catch a foul ball, but I will always consider myself lucky.
Daddying Film Festival & Forum 2027
June 21, 2026
Save the Dates: The 6th annual, virtual Daddying Film Festival will take place on Eventive, January 11-20, 2027, and our LIVE Daddying Film Forum will screen Atticus Award winners and finalists, January 29-30, 2027! Start planning your submissions now for the D3F 2027 Call for Entries, which opens this Fathers' Day, June 21st. More D3F news to come!
Scott Beller is the proud, imperfect crew Dad of two teen, mighty girls, imperfect partner of their rock-star mom/regatta chaperone, a truth teller, purveyor of banned books, former youth soccer coach, championship basketball coach, retired part-time driving instructor, late-night filmgoer, Editor of the Daddying blog, Director of Communications for DCG and Associate Director of the Daddying Film Festival & Forum (D3F). He's a seasoned writer and PR agency veteran with more than 35 years of experience helping organizations of all sizes and individuals reach audiences and tell their stories. Prior to launching his own creative communications consultancy in 2003, he led PR teams with some of the world’s most respected agencies, including The Weber Group and Fleishman-Hillard. As a consultant, he’s helped launch two other parenting advocacy nonprofits with DCG founder Allan Shedlin, REEL Fathers and Dads Unlimited. His first book, Beggars or Angels, was a ghostwritten memoir for the nonprofit Devotion to Children's founder Rosemary Tran Lauer. He is formerly known as "Imperfect Dad" and Head Writer/Editor for the Raising Nerd blog, which supports parents in inspiring the next generation of scientists, engineers, and creative problem solvers. He earned his BA in Communications from VA Tech so many years ago. You can follow him and his frequently salty language on Instagram and BlueSky.
