A golf outing gone wrong unexpectedly led me to coach Austin’s 8U baseball team. We only won once, but the season turned into something far better than the record: a summer of growth, memories, and a “goated” review.
I had every intention of being just an assistant coach.
Instead, destiny had another idea.
It started with a golf outing I had been looking forward to for weeks. I was taking my boys out to ride along while I played nine holes with two of my buddies. The plan was simple: I’d take one cart with the boys, my friends would take the other, and we’d have a great afternoon. As someone who only gets out to golf a few times a year, I was genuinely excited about it.
Everything seemed fine until we tried to tee off on the first hole. A course attendant stopped us and asked, “Are those kids golfing?”
I told him no, they were just riding with me while I played.
His response: “They can’t be here unless they’re playing.”
After a little back and forth, it became clear there was no way around it. We weren’t playing that day. I packed up, turned around, and headed home pretty irritated.
When I got back and checked my email, I saw a message from the baseball league saying they still needed head coaches. Still annoyed about the golf fiasco, I volunteered, albeit grumpily.
It was almost like an “I’ll show the world” sort of thing. Laughing out loud, of course :)
Baseball has always been part of my life. I played from childhood through high school and have always loved the game. I had also coached Hunter’s tee-ball team when he was little, so the idea of coaching Austin’s team was exciting from the start.
Once the season got going, I quickly realized that coaching 8U baseball is its own kind of adventure.
At first, putting together practices was the hard part. I had to figure out stations, drills, routines, and how to keep a group of 8-year-olds moving, learning, and at least somewhat focused. In true overthinking fashion, I initially imagined something much more advanced. In my head, we were going to be turning double plays, painting the corners, pitching curveballs and knuckleballs, and mastering high-level baseball strategy in no time.
Reality, of course, had other plans.
It turned out the real job was much simpler and much more important: teach the basics, keep it fun, build confidence, and help the kids improve a little each week. Catching, throwing, hitting, where to stand, and what to do when the ball comes to you. The little things that feel small until you realize they are the foundation for everything else.
And as the season went on, that part got easier.
I’m an analytical person by nature, so I did what I always do: I tracked everything. Practices, games, positions, batting order, and meticulous stats all went into Obsidian. I used that information to think through future lineups and defensive rotations while also trying to keep things fair. That part mattered to me. I wanted every kid to get the same amount of playing time throughout the season, regardless of the score or standings.
Now, to be clear, we were not exactly a powerhouse.
We lost most of our games. We tied one. We won one.
No banners were raised. No championship parade was scheduled.
But somewhere along the way, I realized the record wasn’t really the point.
The best part of coaching was getting to have a real impact on those kids’ summer. Watching them improve, seeing them get more comfortable, and knowing I had some small part in making baseball fun for them was incredibly rewarding.
That really hit home at our end-of-season pizza party. A bunch of the kids came up to me, gave me hugs, and asked if I’d be coaching again next season. That meant more than any win ever could.
And then Austin summed it up in the best way possible:
He said I was “goated” as a head coach.
Honestly, I’m not sure there’s a better review than that.
So while I originally planned to be just an assistant coach, I ended up with something much better: a season I’ll remember for a long time.
And yeah… maybe I’ll do it again next year.
