Trainers help you bend, stretch,
get out the kinks and the knots.
They soothe your strains and
support your sprains. They are
the bridge between you and the
doctor, offering solace and well-
learned advice. They are kind of
synonymous with guardian angels
and anonymous to the throngs
filling the stands. Their bland uniforms
blend in with background noise but
there are occasions when they
become vital. You know how you
are lying in a hospital bed, missing
your doctor’s appearance if you
blink but you love and depend on
the nurses to notice you, listen to
your words, validate your injured
existence? Trainers are the nurses
of the stadium, underpaid and
overworked. Why is there no
Trainers Day each year? Why is
there no Trainer bobblehead as
a giveaway? (I’d pick one up
and place it on top of my treasured
medicine cabinet and smile.)
Too often in this society, important
people are overlooked, taken for
granted, undervalued. Trainers are
there, making sure that you are the
best player you were meant to be.
The next time you see a trainer
sitting unobtrusively at the end of the
dugout bench, just walk over, smile,
and say thank you. He will smile.
And that smile will shine its way
Into your heart.