A successful team is more than its trophies
I’m not much of a public speaking guy, particularly when emotion
is involved. I can huddle and talk to a team I’m coaching and I can
teach to a classroom full of high school students.
But having to speak in front of a group of parents is tough.
That’s what I had to do last weekend at my Little League team’s
end-of-the-year party.
A successful team is more than its trophies
I’m not much of a public speaking guy, particularly when emotion is involved. I can huddle and talk to a team I’m coaching and I can teach to a classroom full of high school students.
But having to speak in front of a group of parents is tough. That’s what I had to do last weekend at my Little League team’s end-of-the-year party.
It wasn’t that I was worried that my words wouldn’t be received well or that I thought I’d not know what to say. It was that I realized it was the end of the line for this team, since my 12-year-old son had just finished his final year in the majors and I would no longer be its manager.
Reflecting on the contributions of each kid stirred up some emotions in me, my coaches and the parents.
Four of the 12-year-olds had been on the team for three years and two of them were finishing their second year with me, so I had watched them grow from intimidated 10-year-olds to intimidating 12-year-olds.
I came to know these kids and their parents through countless practices and more than 70 games. We spent each March through June together on the practice fields of local elementary schools and the game fields at Vet’s Park.
Some of them were three-time all-stars and some of them were role players. Some got their picture on the home run board at the park and others had a successful at-bat if they didn’t strike out.
The great thing of it all, looking back on what this group of kids accomplished and watching their parents watch them play a game of Wiffle ball in my back yard at our team party, is that they were – through it all – a team.
We had a great year, winning the National League championship and the District 9 Tournament of champions. We had five kids make all-stars, one kid win the regular season homerun title and another come in second in the homerun derby; all good stuff that comes with trophies and banners and accolades.
As cheesy at is sounds, the true reward of our season was our gelling as a team. Maybe that’s easier to do when the team is good, but this Little League journey was the reward.
I like having trophies and championship banners to remind me of our on-field success, but I think I’ll treasure more the memories of our team cheering when one of our subs got his first base hit of the year or the smile on a pinch runner’s face as he raced home when one of our top players hit a homerun behind him.
I’m proud that our top players got better each year and shouldered the responsibility of shutting down the opponent by pitching the ball past them or hitting the ball over them. I’m proud that our 10-year-old rookie forced his way into the starting lineup by diving after balls in the outfield and standing brave in the batter’s box.
I’m proud that the 12-year-old who was playing his first year of majors almost hit a homerun in his last at-bat and never, ever complained about being a substitute. I’m proud that two players who had grade troubles in March told me in May that they brought those marks up after their parents threatened to take baseball away from them.
At our team party, I told the team that I wish we could keep playing, though we all knew that’s not how the system works. They will move on to the next level or perhaps find a different way to fill their spring and summer days.
Some will play baseball in high school, some will play adult softball and some may even coach their own sons or daughters one day.
The picture of them holding their championship banner, smiles as wide as home plate, will always sit in my trophy case. Regardless of how good they were as individuals throughout their career or this season, they were all the best on that day.
The individuals – small, big, strong, weak, all-stars, subs – were and always will be a team.
