Kids These Days:

I can’t say that Keith Holmes was a friend of mine. At best, he was an acquaintance, an adversary on the fields of the Costa Mesa National Little League when we managed our respective teams about six years ago.

Holmes had a glare that could be intimidating to those who did not know him. And when we first met on the baseball diamond, I thought, “Oh, one of these ‘tough guys.’”

Then we shook hands at home plate before the game, and he smiled a smile that was warmer than his glare was cold.

I had been wrong about him, proving once again that first impressions aren’t always right.

Holmes was a baseball guy, someone who took the game seriously, as I found out during our contests. Holmes kept me on my managing toes because he developed his teams to run, to always be on their toes. His son, Ray, was living proof of his philosophy. When Ray got on first, it was as good as being on third.

Keith Holmes’ strategy reduced the number of opportunities I had to win against him and forced me to take chances with my team.

I can’t recall our won-lost record against each other, but I do remember being mentally exhausted after our games.

Off the field, I saw Keith Holmes only a few times.

I’m not sure he even remembered my name, and I didn’t really care as long as I got that smile.

Smiles like his contribute to a good kind of global warming, the kind of warming we feel in our hearts.

A few months ago, I saw Keith Holmes at a high school baseball game. He came to watch Ray, and I came to watch my son, Roy.

This time, we were on the same team, and it felt good to be cheering for the same side.

Keith Holmes is no longer with us, having passed away from a heart attack a few days ago at the too-young age of 46.

On Friday, I received an e-mail organizing a memorial for Keith Holmes at a neighborhood baseball diamond.

Perfect, I thought.

That is probably where he had some of the best memories of his life, and that’s probably where I’d want my memorial, too.

There were 39 names on the e-mail loop for the memorial, but it was attended by more than 100 people.

A string of speakers got up to remember Keith Holmes, many of them mentioning his smile and all of them choking back tears.

As I stood there listening to Kirk Stone eloquently recalling what made Holmes so special, several thoughts occurred to me.

The first is that I can only hope that a similar memorial for me, so hastily arranged for Holmes, will have half the turnout. It was proof of his positive impact on so many lives.

The second was to remind anyone who is coaching or will be coaching their son or daughter in any sport to enjoy every moment of those days, for they could prove to be the best times of your life.

The third and final thought is a recurring theme in this space.

It is that life is very short and very precious, and it is not to be wasted getting upset about the little things that have no meaning — the person who cut you off on the freeway, for example, or the bad attitude you got from someone in a customer service department.

Keith Holmes’ life is proof that what really counts, what you will really be remembered for, is your smile.

Rest in peace, Keith.

There is a memorial fund for Keith Holmes. Donations may be sent to: Keith Holmes Memorial Fund, c/o Costa Mesa United, 1600 Dove St., Ste. 101, Newport Beach, CA, 92660.

STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and a freelance writer. Send story ideas to [email protected] .