I like winning. Who doesn't. Part of why we play sports is to test ourselves against others, push ourselves, and win.
Coaching youth baseball is tricky, because on the one hand, I want to win. The kids say they want to win. But what the kids really want to do is play shortstop or pitch. Everyone says they want to win, but the important thing at this stage is teaching the kids so that they can play, and knowing that there will be times during the season when it is more important to let kids play different positions than to put your top players in critical positions.
My goal this season is to have every kid on the team learn the skills needed to play infield and outfield. I want them to be able to field ground balls, make the throw across the diamond, catch pop ups and fly balls, field outfield grounders and hit the cutoff man, and catch fly balls.
I want to teach a few kids how to pitch, instead of just throw the ball, and have one or two kids who are brave enough and skilled enough to play catcher.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Preseason
I am a coach.
I get excited when our worst hitter, the kid with the .000 batting average, who has struck out or walked in every at bat this season, manages to draw a walk. He steals second, and then goes to third on a wild pitch. He comes home on a single, the first run of three in the bottom of the sixth inning that gives us the win, and I feel pride when I overhear him say to his teammates that he got the rally started with a clutch walk.
I suffered in silence when our best hitter stepped to the plate with two out in the bottom of the sixth; the tying run on third; the winning run on second. Four pitches later, our top hitter had struck out, ending the game. One week later, same field, similar situation. Trailing by one with a runner on second. And for the second game in a row, the same hitter swung and missed on strike three. And in my head, the words Might Casey had struck out danced as we lined up to shake hands with our opponents.
In baseball, even the worst of hitters will have a moment to shine, and top hitters have humility served with an offspeed pitch.
I coach 10-12 year old kids. Some can play the game. They understand the game, and execute their role on the field. Others have trouble remembering that the second baseman doesn't actually stand on second base, and that they need to watch the game even if they are standing on the outfield grass.
It is all part of coaching youth baseball in Israel.
I get excited when our worst hitter, the kid with the .000 batting average, who has struck out or walked in every at bat this season, manages to draw a walk. He steals second, and then goes to third on a wild pitch. He comes home on a single, the first run of three in the bottom of the sixth inning that gives us the win, and I feel pride when I overhear him say to his teammates that he got the rally started with a clutch walk.
I suffered in silence when our best hitter stepped to the plate with two out in the bottom of the sixth; the tying run on third; the winning run on second. Four pitches later, our top hitter had struck out, ending the game. One week later, same field, similar situation. Trailing by one with a runner on second. And for the second game in a row, the same hitter swung and missed on strike three. And in my head, the words Might Casey had struck out danced as we lined up to shake hands with our opponents.
In baseball, even the worst of hitters will have a moment to shine, and top hitters have humility served with an offspeed pitch.
I coach 10-12 year old kids. Some can play the game. They understand the game, and execute their role on the field. Others have trouble remembering that the second baseman doesn't actually stand on second base, and that they need to watch the game even if they are standing on the outfield grass.
It is all part of coaching youth baseball in Israel.
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