Tournament season is upon us for many youth softball and baseball leagues, and it’s time I make a painfully honest confession.

I spent 20 hours a day rooting for my 10-year-old daughter’s softball team to lose.

I know, they’ll have to strip me of my father-of-the-year award. All those nice things people say about my relationship with my kids will go out the window with that one statement. Give me a chance to explain first.

We both think it’s important to support our daughter at these games whenever we can. She’s never the best player on the team, but she’s never the worst either. And like most preteens, she lacks confidence in herself. So beyond getting her to the games, we think it’s important to be at the games for her, reminding her it’s OK to trust her instincts and swing that bat.

Some of my reasoning is geographic. My wife and I both work in Lima, about half an hour from our home in Putnam County. Our three daughters go to a day care in downtown Lima, while we both work on the edges of the city.

The stress of tournament time is the schedule is fluid. You don’t really know when your next game will be until you finish the one you’re playing. Especially in double-elimination tournaments, there are a lot of possibilities of when and where the team might play next.

Many of those times are less than optimal for someone with a day job in a town 30 minutes away. I’m looking at you, 5:15 p.m. game with a team warm-up at 4:45 p.m. In order to get out of work, pick the kids up from day care and get there in time, I find myself having to leave work at 4 p.m.

That’s not easy to pull off at a daily newspaper job, where my urge to complete my work often keeps me chained to my desk until well after the 5 p.m. than my 8:30 to 5 schedule should. (Thank goodness I’m salaried and doing it voluntarily.)

That’s the stress working parents feel, though. They want to do their best at work. They want to be there for their children. All too often, these two goals collide.

That’s when you find yourself hoping your child’s softball team might lose its game that night. During all those hours away from the park, it’s so easy to focus on how much easier your schedule might be if the season were over. You talk yourself into believing it’s a long season, and she’s ready for it to be over. You turn into a Vegas oddsmaker, choosing favorites among all the different teams in the tournament and wondering why you should waste your time cheering for an underdog.

After all, watching youth softball can be brutal, when as many runs are scored on passed balls as hits and even the best pitchers might give up a dozen walks in a game.

Fortunately, even a heart as cold as mine can only cheer against my daughter’s team for so long. By the time my 10-year-old puts on that jersey and grabs her glove, I sing a different tune. I suddenly become the biggest fan the teal team has, clapping for every hit and cheering after each strike crosses the plate.

It’s thrilling to see the team celebrate after a tournament victory. It disheartened me to see how sad they were after their final loss in the loser’s bracket, when they realized their run was done.

That’s when a parent sees how much youth sports brings to a child. It’s not just an activity to keep them busy during the summer. It’s about teamwork and friendship.

That’s something every parent can support and appreciate, 24 hours a day.

Gary A. Martin, of Lima, has the look. Well, two of them actually.

One moment, he’s warm and sympathetic. The next, he’s devilishly selfish and greedy.

They are looks the Lima man shared with a director a few months ago, and now he’s sharing them in a national television commercial.

“They set up the scene in the audition and said react this way or that way,” said Martin, a 1991 Lima Senior graduate. “The director was really excited to see it happen, when I switch from sympathetic to over-the-top excited. He laughed at the audition right away.”

That audition earned Martin his first paying gig as an actor. He made $600 for a nonspeaking role in a SafeAuto commercial with comedian Norm Macdonald.

“Let’s say you run over this guy’s azaleas, and his bloodthirsty lawyer wants to sue,” Macdonald says in the commercial, which can be seen on YouTube as well as on television.

That bloodthirsty lawyer wearing a purple suit is Martin. Just like in his audition, one moment Martin comforts the commercial’s homeowner, putting an arm around him to tell him everything will be all right. The next, Martin looks away and pumps his right hand for the easy money the accident could bring.

In real life, Martin is a working stiff like the rest of us. He works as a flavor-enhancement technician at Procter & Gamble’s Pet Food plant in Leipsic, where they make Iams and Eukanuba dog and cat foods.

He works long hours at the plant, but the rotating schedule also means lots of days off, as he works 15 days per month. The hardest part was not telling people about the commercial, which he shot for two hours in mid-April in Columbus, until the commercials began airing recently. Macdonald’s appearance in an ad campagin had been a surprise.

“I got some teasing and encouragement at work, like, ‘No way! That’s cool!’” Martin said. “Now that it’s out, everybody can see it. I’m getting some general harassment at work now, like ‘Mr. Hollywood is in the room. Can I have an autograph?’”

The scene on the set caught him off guard, he admitted.

“It’s pretty surreal. You walk in there, and they say, ‘You’re the talent, right?’ I’m like, ‘Yeah, I guess you can call me that,’” Martin said. “They were real supportive, getting you to wardrobe, makeup, knowing where you’re going, where the craft services table was.”

He did get to chat with the sarcastic Macdonald for 10 minutes as crews set up the scene.

“He’s a good guy, and really genuine,” Martin said. “The suit they put me in was purple, and he grabbed my sleeve and said, ‘Purple? That’s not gay at all.’ I had a handkerchief I pulled out to wipe my forehead, and he loved it. He said it reminded him of what Rodney Dangerfield used to do. We had some fun on the set.”

He wasn’t exactly born into stardom, though, given the 20-year gap between graduating high school and his first professional job.

He learned he loved to perform during his days at Lima Senior. Longtime choir director Bob Mix guided and encouraged him in music. Drama teacher Karan Longbrake encouraged him to act, later directing him in a production of “Crazy for You.”

“Karan taught me all the basics, scene breakdown, memorization, that kind of thing,” Martin said. “She was my inspiration to fall in love with acting.”

The acting and performing bugs never left him, of course. He was part of a music group for 10 years. He got involved with Encore Theatre and community theaters in Findlay, Wapakoneta and Van Wert. He decided to try out for professional work once his children graduated, and his wife, Cindy, was supportive.

“I think the talent of our community theaters gets overlooked or taken for granted sometimes,” Martin said. “I truly appreciate all the people who have helped my career and encouraged me to pursue my passion.”

He said he’d never forget receiving the phone call telling him he got the part in the SafeAuto commercial.

“After I hung up the phone after I got the role, it was way exciting,” he said. “I was like, ‘Oh gosh, did that really happen?’ My wife asked what was wrong, and I was like, ‘Nothing’s wrong. It couldn’t be any better.’”

He got that first job on his own, looking out for open auditions and hearing “no” more times than not. Now he has an agent, CAM Talent in Columbus, and a profile on its website. He will audition for a Dodge commercial soon, and he’s waiting to hear about some work in independent films, much like the ones screened in Lima this weekend.

“It’s work,” he said. “It’s a lot of fun after you’re done, but it’s a lot of work. And a big part of this game is confidence.”

Working at a newspaper was so much easier when I didn’t care about anyone but me.

Friday night was an emotional roller coaster for everyone, as a powerful storm ripped through the area, tossing trees as if they were toothpicks and ripping up homes as if they were dandelions.

In my years of journalism, I’ve covered or led the coverage of many storms. But Friday’s was more personal for some reason.

When the storm hit, my journalistic instincts wondered where the worst damage was and how to get our reporters and photographers there, wherever it was.

My family instincts slowed me down. I couldn’t concentrate until I knew how my wife was doing at her workplace in south Lima and how my children were doing at a day care downtown. Every time I heard a new report on the police scanner, I worried if they were affected.

Luckily, I eventually learned they were all fine. My wife, who generally understands the stress breaking news puts on our personal lives, brought the kids back home to our house in Putnam County.

That’s about the time we learned in the newsroom what a mess the storm made of Putnam County. It’s also about the time I started hearing from my lovely bride about her exploits trying to get from here to there, with all the regular routes closed.

About the time she was trying to drive around Columbus Grove, we learned the building housing Christie’s on the Square sustained very serious damage, with an entire exterior wall ripped apart and crumbling onto the street.

Again, personal angst started to rumble inside me. Christie’s has a warm spot in my heart. I remember writing a story when it opened. It plays a central role in the story of my courtship with my now-wife, as Christie Tabler left a spot in a box of chocolates big enough for me to place the engagement ring.

And now it’s gone.

My wife and children eventually guided the van to our home in Ottawa. That’s when my wife pulled up to a mess there.

Many people have a storm damage story, and our damage is minor compared to some. I recognize that, but it’s still hard to see your dream home in tatters. The trampoline in our backyard ended up a mangled mess a few houses away. Wind-strewn shingles littered the yard, and a contractor will spend some quality time atop our house cleaning up after Mother Nature.

My wife was saddened and frustrated by the damage, and all I could do was try to comfort her from our newsroom, telling her we’d get it all cleaned up without even seeing the damage myself. She headed for the safety of her sister’s home.

Those worries had to be set aside, though. As best as we could, we needed to tell people what was happening around them online. We needed to get a newspaper out to our loyal subscribers. My problems had to wait.

There’s some discussion these days about trying to “have it all,” with a career, a family and a thriving personal life. In general, most people think you can’t. Most of the time I keep that balance well, but Friday night killed that thought. I needed to be in three places, and I’m not sure I could’ve been helpful in any of them.

Indeed, working in newspapers was so much easier when I didn’t care about anyone but myself. People could just be names attached to quotes; towns were merely datelines at the tops of stories.

Over the years, this place became home for me. The area and its people found their way into my heart. It’s painful to see it in shambles.

If there’s anything I know about this area, though, it’s that good people will step forward to rebuild it, to make me care even more about it for years to come.