This Old Coach
There comes a time in every coach's life when he realizes two things:
- His players are now taller than he is.
- He's spent more summers at the baseball field than mowing his own lawn.
For me, that time has arrived. After many years in the dugout, countless practices, hundreds of games, and ten years serving on the Pembroke Youth Baseball & Softball Board of Directors, I've decided it's time to retire from coaching youth baseball.
Before anyone gets too emotional, let me be clear: I'm retiring from coaching. I'm not retiring from offering unsolicited baseball opinions from behind the backstop.
Looking back, what I'll remember most isn't the wins, championships, or tournament runs. It's the kids. I've had the privilege of watching wide-eyed six-year-olds struggle to put on a batting helmet correctly, only to see them grow into confident young men who can drive a car, hold a conversation, and occasionally remember to say "thank you."
I've watched players hit their first home runs, strike out with the winning run on base, make game-saving catches, and learn lessons that had absolutely nothing to do with baseball. I've seen shy kids become leaders, nervous kids become competitors, and talented kids learn humility after a ground ball rolled through their legs.
The truth is that youth sports were never really about baseball. They were about confidence. They were about teamwork. They were about learning how to handle success and failure in front of your friends. And for those of us lucky enough to coach, they were about having a front-row seat to watch it all happen.
Serving on the Board of Directors for the past decade has been equally rewarding. Behind every season are hundreds of volunteer hours spent scheduling games, organizing teams, raising money, maintaining fields, and solving problems nobody knew existed until five minutes before first pitch. It's not glamorous work, but it's important work.
Of course, no discussion about youth sports would be complete without mentioning parents. Over the years, I've met countless wonderful parents who volunteered, supported their kids, helped the league, and made youth sports the special experience it should be. Those parents are amazing.
The other parents? Well, let's just say I won't miss the occasional email explaining to me why their child should be batting third despite hitting .083, or the detailed scouting report proving their son was unfairly denied a spot on the Summer All-Star team because of a vast conspiracy involving coaches, board members, and apparently the Snack Shack staff. I won't miss being informed that little Timmy’s lack of playing time is jeopardizing his future professional baseball career at the age of nine. Nor will I miss the emergency phone calls that begin with, "I'm not upset, but..." which universally means the caller is, in fact, very upset.
What I've learned is that youth sports can bring out the very best in people—and sometimes the most emotional version of themselves. The good news is that the best always outweighed the worst…by a lot!
So as I hang up the clipboard, put away the lineup card, and officially become one of those old guys standing behind the fence saying, "Back in my day...", I'm filled with gratitude:
Gratitude for the players.
Gratitude for the families.
Gratitude for the coaches and volunteers who gave their time so kids could play a game.
And gratitude for the opportunity to be part of something much bigger than baseball. Because while the games eventually end, the memories don't.
To every player I've coached, thank you for making the experience worthwhile. To every volunteer I've served alongside, thank you for your dedication. And to every emotional, misinformed parent who provided enough material to fill several future newsletter articles—thank you for the laughs.
This old coach is stepping away from the dugout…but he'll always be a baseball guy.
