The Narcissist's Scoreboard: Why Youth Baseball Tournaments are Dumb

I know I may be stepping out on a limb a bit here, but I find these youth baseball tournaments to be stupid. Often, they seem more like a vanity project for shallow parents and coaches to boast on social media rather than a platform for genuine player development. 

It’s hard not to notice how these tournaments turn into a parade of bragging rights for parents and coaches. The focus shifts from nurturing young talent into flaunting victory counts and trophy collections. Is this really what we should care about?

As a coach, my primary goal in travel baseball is to give my players meaningful repetitions that aid their growth and skill development. I find that the intense competition and grueling schedules contradict this objective. Is it really beneficial to have a 9-year-old throw 90 pitches on back-to-back days just to win a cheap, Chinese plastic ring that will end up in a landfill in 6 months?

What’s the real cost to these tournaments? Are we improving the players’ skills and love for the game? Are we risking their long-term health and enthusiasm for short-lived wins? Does the 9th player on my roster benefit from less ABs and more bench time? Are any of my players more likely to make a competitive high school team in five years? Does it even help them for Little League All-Stars at this age? 

I think its important to have a dialogue with your team’s parents about the true purpose of your travel ball team. What are your real goals? Are we nurturing future talent or inadvertently prioritizing victories over development?

Believe me, I get that this looks like “hey, this guy is a self-proclaimed mediocre coach, of course he doesn’t like tournaments, he’s not competitive.” Maybe that’s true – we’re certainly trying to win and stay competitive, but not at the expense of my players future versions of themselves. What do you guys think?

Pitching Fits

Today, I’m diving into a topic that every youth baseball coach can relate to – handling parental expectations about their kid’s playing time and positions. Managing these expectations is often one of the more grueling parts of a job that I never really wanted and wouldn’t mind losing. 

Just this past week, I had an excruciating educational conversation with a set of parents about their son’s “role on the team.” The moment I saw the text requesting this meeting, I physically sigh. The concerns were the usual suspects: not enough innings in the field, not playing their preferred position, and not enough time on the mound – typical issues but no less frustrating to address. 

I laid out my rationale, backed by my coaching philosophy, team expectations provided at the beginning of the season, game stats and practice anecdotes. All of these were unsatisfactory to these parents. 

This meeting came on the heels of our team having a disappointing tournament performance, so my mood was already soured. But nothing quite prepares you for a parent asking you: “if you’re going to put out a pitcher that’s just going to get lit up, why cant my kid be the one that gets lit up?” How can you possibly respond to that. AYFKM? Of course, I shared that if I had known that the pitcher was going to get shelled that I, obviously, would not have put him out there.

Aside from our poor performance in the tournament, this conversation highlighted a persistent issue: despite clear, merit-based policies (this is travel baseball after all) complaints still surface. I think it may just be another thankless part of a thankless job. 

As much as I try to be quantitative in my approach to lineup building, I think any coach can attest that lineups and playing time are much more art than science.

To my team’s parents, I’d like to say: nobody signed a contract, if you think you can do a better job, start your own team and have at it.

I’m eager to hear from you all. How do you handle these types of situations? Drop your stories, advice, or even a few words of encouragement in the comments below.

Confessions of a Proudly Mediocre Coach

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog, you too might be endlessly scrolling through youth baseball Instagram accounts, hoping to discover that one magical tip, drill, or (let’s be honest) piece of equipment that will catapult your team to greatness.

I’m just a dad who somehow turned coaching youth baseball into his entire identity – and it turns out, I’m not exactly a natural. In fact, I’m pretty mediocre.

It’s this odd catch-22 I’ve found myself in. I hate coaching, yet I can’t imagine not doing it, and I trust very few others to coach my kids the way I believe they should be coached. So, I’m stuck. This “stuckness” has landed me in a no-man’s land of mediocrity. I’ve built a team that’s okay-ish. Competitive, sometimes. Great, rarely.

I’m still figuring out what the point of this blog will be. It might end up being just the musings of a lackluster dad-ball coach. Maybe it will help work through my own issues. It will likely make me laugh (and maybe cry a bit too), and hopefully, it resonates with you as well.

Please continue to check back in to see how (un)successfully I navigate local Little League politics, intertwined with travel baseball competitiveness, All-Stars, tournaments, insane parents, insane coaches, bitchy umpires, and lazy kids. The list of characters in this story seems to grow every season, so hopefully the stories stay relevant, too.