Baseball has always been called a game of failure, a game that humbles even the best athletes who lace up their cleats and step between the lines. Yet it is also a game of opportunity, of growth, and of constant pursuit of getting better. The athletes who rise above the rest are not necessarily the most naturally gifted. They are the ones who embrace the grind, who choose hard work over comfort, and who invest in their own development when no one else is watching. That truth has never changed. What has changed, however, is how athletes today approach the process of getting better.
Everywhere you look, there are academies popping up, private instructors advertising their expertise, and training facilities promising the newest method to unlock hidden potential. Players now have access to more resources than ever before. Technology allows a coach to break down a swing in real time. Metrics like exit velocity, spin rate, launch angle, and bat speed can be measured and tracked instantly. Social media provides endless clips of drills, tips, and philosophies. For a young athlete who wants to improve, there has never been a better time to gather tools and information. But here is the question that needs to be asked: What are athletes truly doing with all of this? Are they simply attending academies and private lessons because that is what everyone else is doing? Are they walking into these training sessions with a purpose to learn, grow, and then take that knowledge home to put in the extra work? Or are they simply checking the box and then falling back into old habits when the lights are off and the coach is gone? Far too often, the latter is what we see.
As a coach who has spent years both on the field and in instructional settings, I can tell you that nothing is more frustrating than teaching an athlete the same thing week after week without seeing progress. No disrespect to parents or players who invest in these lessons, but the truth is that private work is meant to be a launchpad, not the destination. If I correct your swing path on Tuesday, and you walk out of the cage, never practice it again until next Tuesday, then all we are doing is spinning in circles. I do not want to spend the limited time we have together correcting the same flaw over and over. I would rather fine tune after you have taken the teaching home, drilled it consistently, and come back better than you left.
That brings us to the heart of the issue. Where has the work ethic gone?
We are living in a time where distractions are everywhere. Phones, social media, streaming platforms, and video games eat up hours that could be used for development. Athletes talk about wanting to play college baseball or professional baseball, yet when given the choice between Fortnite and 100 purposeful swings off the tee, too many are choosing the controller. Entitlement has crept in as well. Some players believe that paying for a lesson automatically equals development. Some parents believe that investing in a high-level club team automatically guarantees growth. But the truth is simple, no one can outwork the grind. You cannot buy your way past the repetition and the sweat it takes to separate yourself from the pack.
Parents deserve credit here. Many are sacrificing time, money, and energy to provide their children with opportunities they never had. They are driving across town for practices, writing checks for lessons, buying equipment, and enrolling their kids in programs that give them every chance to succeed. At a certain point, however, the responsibility shifts from the parent to the athlete. Mom and dad can provide the resources, but they cannot swing the bat or run the sprints for you. Athletes must decide for themselves how badly they want it. The late Kobe Bryant gave us a blueprint for what true work looks like. His famous description of waking up at four in the morning, practicing for two hours, lifting weights for two more, going to team practice in the afternoon, and then finishing the night with another round of skill work, is not just a schedule. It is a mindset. Kobe explained that by the time his peers were getting in their one practice a day, he had already doubled or tripled their reps. Over weeks, months, and years, that separation becomes impossible to close. If you practice twenty times in a week and your competition only practices five, the math is simple. Multiply that over six months or a year, and you have created a gap that talent alone cannot bridge.
Now, let’s be clear. Not every young baseball player can or should train like Kobe Bryant. That kind of schedule requires a level of obsession that is rare even among the elite. But the principle remains, consistency and purposeful work over time will separate you. And purposeful work does not have to be complicated. You do not need a world class facility to get better. You can hit three buckets of balls off a tee in your backyard if you approach it with intent. You can throw a tennis ball against a wall to sharpen your glove work and footwork. Catchers can do dry blocking drills in their living room. You can sprint in your neighborhood to improve endurance. You can do pushups and sit ups in your room if you cannot afford a gym membership. The resources are everywhere, the question is whether you are willing to use them.
At some point in every player’s journey, the game will humble you. You will look around and realize that you are not the best on the field anymore. It may happen in Little League when the kids around you start hitting growth spurts. It may happen in high school when you face pitchers throwing harder than you have ever seen. It may happen in college when everyone on the roster was a star at their high school. It may even happen in professional baseball, where every player you face is among the best in the world. But it will happen. And in that moment, the only thing that will keep you moving forward is the work you have banked when no one was watching.
The grind is not glamorous. It is not always fun. But it is always worth it.
The athletes who embrace the grind are the ones who make the most of their talent. They do not fear repetition because they understand that repetition builds mastery. They do not rely on external validation because they know that the real competition is with themselves. They do not make excuses about what they lack because they find ways to use what they have.
So what does embracing the grind actually look like in baseball today?
It looks like the player who shows up early to hit off the tee before practice begins. It looks like the catcher who stays after to block extra pitches in the dirt. It looks like the pitcher who takes care of his arm with a recovery routine instead of rushing to hang out after the game. It looks like the shortstop who takes 100 ground balls in his backyard when no one is keeping count. It looks like the player who writes down goals and then checks them off one by one. It also looks like balance. The grind does not mean neglecting your body with overtraining or ignoring your mind by burning out. It means being intentional with your time. It means choosing discipline over distraction. It means making small deposits every day into the bank account of your future success.
Parents, your role is to encourage, to support, and to provide. But the moment of truth will always fall on the athlete. The best thing you can do is hold your child accountable. Ask them whether they are doing the extra work when no one is watching. Ask them whether they are choosing growth over comfort. And then let them own the journey. Coaches and instructors, our role is to guide, to teach, and to push. But we cannot want it more than the athlete does. We cannot drag them through the grind. We can only light the path and challenge them to walk it.
The resources available today are incredible. The question is whether athletes will use them or waste them. The difference between those who make it and those who do not will rarely come down to talent. It will almost always come down to who was willing to embrace the grind when no one else did. If you are a young athlete reading this, know that the choice is yours. The world does not owe you playing time, a roster spot or a scholarship. What you earn will be based on the work you put in when no one is looking. Put down the phone and turn off the video game. Pick up the bat, pick up the glove and pick up the ball.
Embrace the grind. Because one day, when you look back, you will know whether you truly gave this game everything you had.
Behind The Diamond 