Why do we need to “trust in God” to play baseball?

There is no mistake about it, good coaches win. Isn’t that how they make their living? But at the recreational level we always preach that it’s not about winning. Then what makes a good coach if you can’t claim winning? Is it a sin to want to win?
I was a second year varsity football coach for Southwest High School when our offensive coordinator quit after the the first game. As the quarterbacks coach I was handed the reins. He was running a triple option package with a bunch of undisciplined kids. We got hammered and I was running an offense I didn’t understand. So that weekend I DVR’d Urban Meyers Florida Gators and I drew up every play Dan Mullen ran from scrimmage. I made up some play books and we went spread option — and … we went 0-10.
I still got my stipend that year despite our flaw-ful season. I would have given up my $1500 easily for one win for the boys. I wanted them to go to bed at least one Friday night feeling like they ended up on top. I genuinely felt heartache for them.
All that genuiness went out the door when I started coaching Little League. This was not a job or a service for my employer, it became a parental right that I crown my child the Caps Division Champion. And as a parent I have the right to do whatever it takes to ensure my child’s success. This is a lie that many parents, including myself, have succumbed to. I can always tell when I’m drinking the kool-aide because I start doing my kids homework or manipulating the circumstances to keep them from failing or the team from losing. I convince myself ourselves that what I’m doing is for the benefit of my child, but deep down it’s not about them, it’s about me. I feel it when I boast of my child’s success on social media. He’s not even old enough to legally own a Facebook account, so what does it matter to him that all 973 of my “friends” know he got the game ball? Because it’s not about him, it’s about me — that I am the progenitor of such a phenomenal specimen. Each Facebook “boast” is another five gallons of ice cold pride dumped on my head out of a Gatorade cooler. After each win I can feel it soaking into my skin like the sun on a warm day at the beach. I hear it between my ears, “you are a Little League Genius. I’ve never seen seven year-olds play like that.” And that’s exactly what I believed throughout my first season coaching competitive baseball. If we won it was because of their genius coach. If we lost, it was because the boys didn’t do what I said. Therein lies my sin — I let my adult interests infiltrate a child’s game.

Little League is operating on a dying frontier. The first line of it’s pledge is, “I Trust in God.” Why do we need to trust in God to play baseball?
Some people will say they play sports because it’s teaches life lessons. If that was the case then all the best athletes on earth should also be it’s best people. But again and again we see the evidence of another fallen character amongst professional athletes. Therefore playing a sport does not teach you how to be a good person. Becoming a good person does not require sports, it requires relationships. And that’s why we play sports — as soon as we’re on a team we have spontaneously spawned a dozen new relationships.

Little League is operating on a dying frontier. The first line of it’s pledge is, “I Trust in God.” Why do we need to trust in God to play baseball?

A coach who understands his/her role, transforms the game into a petri dish for life’s toughest experiments: loss, failure, injury, tragedy, etc. Your coach is now your therapist, tutor, friend, parent, and trainer all in one. Together we learn how to react to these tribulations and work to overcome them. People who don’t know how to coach failure just become masters of the obvious — unable to discern any other truths than the blatant fact, “you took your eye off the ball again!”, or “gotta get your glove down,” “you’re aiming instead of throwing!” — you think!?
Hence the first line is also the first lesson, “trust in God.” If God is a Father, then certainly He’s the Little League Father of us all. But I don’t see God soaking up the credit for every win and dishing out slander for every loss. God is in the business of giving credit, not taking it. He’s in the business of transforming people not trading them.

A transformational coach measures his wins and loses by change in his players. When a young athlete learns how to accept defeat with grace, overcome weakness with integrity, and return home from each game/practice with honor, his coach has done more than the win loss column will ever tell. Also, God does not fall for the lie that a parents role is to protect their children from failure. He does not sign up to coach, or volunteer for the board to protect or ensure their child’s recognition. The lesson is this: when you fail, “trust in God.” Trust that this failure will not kill them or you. This loss will not kill your child’s self-esteem. Getting racked on the mound, or going 0-3 with three strikeouts is healthy. Watching and letting my kids fail is the hardest thing I’ll ever do — but it is my most important job. Because when they work through their failures and succeed, they deserve all the credit. Then, like God, I’ve joined the business of giving credit, not taking it.

If I intervene and manipulate their success then the success is tainted. Their self-esteem has an asterisk next to it — *Dad-in-the-dugout Era. This is the battle we must never lose — we must never let adult interests interfere with a kids game. Dad’s ego must be checked at the parking lot and never enter the dugout. I have 12 sons on the roster each deserving of my admonition.

If it’s a lie that your parental rights don’t include that your child makes the All-star team, then what is the truth? Here’s the truth: your parental rights are over when they step into the box. They’re on their own. They are 100% responsible for the results. Learn to love it. Suffer with them, and when it’s all over, good or bad, make sure they know who’s side you’re on.

“People who hydrate their esteem with home runs shall thirst again. Whosoever drinks from the water integrity gives him shall never thirst again.”

–Little League Dad