If Life Gets Too Easy, Coach T-Ball

Team sports were a big part of my childhood. I played almost every sport, and loved every minute of it. I loved practices, games, being part of a team, everything. I couldn’t wait for game days, when I would finally get to put on my crisp, clean uniform. I felt like a professional athlete. When I coached Tyler’s first soccer team, I tried to focus most of my energy on helping the kids have fun, so they would have a similar experience. Personally, it was rewarding for me to see them progress as players, but most importantly, it was great to see them enjoying themselves. In my life, I have had both good and bad coaches, so I wanted to make sure I didn’t coach the fun out of the game. The fact that they never really listened much to what I was saying helped.

All things considered, we were pretty successful as a soccer team. Flush with success as a soccer coach, I was presented with the opportunity to sign up as a coach for Tyler’s first baseball season. I declined. A big part of me wanted to be involved, but I also wanted Tyler to be part of a team without his dad as the coach. Plus, I figured it would be nice to sit in the stands, cheer for him and his team, and not lose sleep trying to figure out how to get eleven 5 year olds to listen to me. Seemed like a win-win.

Well, like most of my best laid plans, things did not work out exactly as I had envisioned. Relaxed, bleacher-sitting, cold-drink-in-hand Zach became Coach Zach when the league called and said they were short head coaches. They said that Tyler’s team would have to be broken up, with the players sent to other teams, unless a head coach could be found. I tried my best negotiating skills, but the call lasted all of about 30 seconds and by the end of it, I was the head coach.

I believe I am also responsible for washing the league president’s car every Saturday as well. I have never been a good negotiator.

To be honest, I wasn’t all that disappointed in postponing relaxed, bleacher-sitting, cold-drink-in-hand Zach. I’m sure it would have been fun, and I think someday it will be good for Tyler to be on a team where he isn’t the “coach’s kid”, but baseball was my favorite sport growing up. I still miss playing catch with my friends, shagging fly balls and taking batting practice until it was way past my bedtime. I was excited to have 11 new little buddies to play some baseball with for the next few months.

Having played and watched baseball for almost 30 years, I am fairly adept at the rules of the game. As I prepared for our first practice, I quickly realized that coaching baseball was going to be a much bigger challenge than coaching soccer. Beginning soccer is actually pretty easy to coach. You basically just have to say “use only your feet and try to kick the ball in the goal”. That’s pretty much it. Baseball is much different. First of all, you have to learn how to catch. Much harder than kicking. Also, baseball has a bunch of rules that, for a 5 year old playing it for the first time, can be fairly confusing. Rules like “you can run through 1st base and home plate, but not 2nd base or 3rd base because you can be tagged out”.

Given my previous experience with 5 year olds, I decided to shelve the more technical details for later in the season.

For our first practice, I didn’t schedule much. I mainly just wanted to see everyone throwing, catching, running and swinging the bat. I wanted to see what I was working with. It was quite a sight. Everyone was excited, tried their best and, thankfully, no one got hurt. It’s funny, but since coaching soccer, my benchmark for success at practice has become whether or not we avoided any injuries. Prior to my first practice ever as a coach, I had a laundry list of everything I wanted to accomplish. Now, with a dose of 5 year old reality under my belt, I focus mainly on keeping everyone safe. Don’t get me wrong, I still want everyone to have fun, become a team and learn to play the game, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a good practice if no one cries.

I actually started trying to coach a little bit at our second practice. Everyone wanted to bat, but I explained that if we couldn’t catch and throw, it would make for a long season. After showing them the proper way to catch a baseball, I turned them loose playing catch with their parents. About 30 seconds in, I had two kids with bloody noses. We had our work cut out for us. Over the past few weeks, in preparation for our first game, everyone has been working really hard and we have actually made some good progress. As a bonus, there have been no more bloody noses.

Opening ceremonies and our first game were this past Saturday, and I wasn’t really sure what to expect. In practice, I often get the impression that the kids either don’t hear me, or they are completely ignoring me. I do know that there must be something incredibly fascinating about infield dirt, since most of my infielders spend the majority of their time digging holes or building little dirt mountains. I know it must be hard for a 5 year old to stand still, patiently waiting for a baseball to come their way. Particularly with a sea of magnificent infield dirt beckoning to them. But I do remember listening to my coaches, and I seem to remember doing what they told me. The Dragons don’t necessarily adhere to that same code.

The Dragons seem to prefer anarchy. Case in point – lining up for opening ceremonies.

All we had to do was line up as a team under the sign that had our team name on it. Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. We could not make it happen. In my head I kept thinking, “choose your battles wisely”, but I also wanted to keep the kids in their line so we would be ready to run onto the field when we were called. The kids weren’t having it. It’s not that they weren’t listening. They would look at me, nod their heads and get in line. It’s just that the minute I turned around, my line quickly became more of a roving mob. In their defense, we were positioned right next to a large mound of their favorite infield dirt. The dirt must have been calling their names, because they were physically unable to stop themselves from breaking from the line to stand in it, kick it, pick it up or dig into it with their hands. Every time I asked them to get back in line, they looked at me with an expression that seemed to say, “poor man, don’t you understand that this is bigger than you, and bigger than us? We have no control, we must play with this dirt, regardless of how many times you ask us to stay in line.” I must say, if you ever feel invincible, like there isn’t anything you can’t do, I suggest you try keeping eleven 5 year old boys out of a mound of dirt for 15 minutes. It can’t be done.

After successfully surviving opening ceremonies, we had to wait a few hours for our first big game. When it was finally our turn to take the field, I couldn’t have been more proud of my little Dragons. First and foremost, I don’t think there is anything cuter than little kids in full blown baseball uniforms.

They look like little, scaled down professional baseball players. They were all excited, they all ran to where they were supposed to go and the digging in the dirt was pretty minimal.

I am biased, of course, but I think our first game was a huge success, and a great sign of things to come. There were almost too many highlights to mention, but some of my favorites were watching Tyler’s eyes light up when he hit his “super far shot”, watching my first baseman’s whole face disappear behind a huge smile when he caught the ball thrown to him for an out, and seeing my little catcher come out all geared up for the first inning.

Watching my pitcher single-handedly chase down four base runners on one play also brought a smile to my face. But my personal favorite had to be the impromptu wrestling match that broke out in shallow left field between three of my players, none of whom was willing to let go of the ball. It lasted about 30 seconds, which was plenty of time for the batter to make it all the way home. The only thing I could think to say afterwards was “good hustle guys”. I love t-ball.

I think being around kids is great therapy. I know it is for me. I don’t know at what age things start to get complicated, or more accurately, when we start to complicate things, but I know it isn’t at 5. At 5, it’s about playing, and playing hard. It’s about hitting, catching and building dirt castles at second base. Kids fully commit to whatever they’re doing, whether their parents or coaches want them to or not. 5 year olds also don’t dwell on things. As soon as the game was over, all that mattered in the world to them was getting a hot dog and a slushie at the snack bar. No stressing out over the mistakes made during the game, no agonizing over the fact that they weren’t perfect, no worrying about what other kids thought about how they played. Just laughter and hot dogs. I think kids are smarter than we give them credit for.

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