Let’s just say it plainly: too many club baseball coaches care more about wins and losses than they do about kids. And no, I’m not talking about college programs where pressure to win translates directly into jobs, scholarships, and funding. I’m talking about youth club baseball. Travel ball. Club organizations. Weekend tournaments. I’m talking about grown men obsessing over the status of their 13U or 14U team like they’re playing Game 7 of the World Series every weekend.
Why?
Why are we so obsessed with the status of a team that’s made up of 13-year-olds who still need rides to practice, still forget their cleats, and are still trying to figure out how to tie a proper double knot? Let’s be real here, most of you don’t know how to coach. Most of you will never coach a game that actually means anything beyond your own ego. So why are you coaching like your career is on the line every Saturday & Sunday in September in a Perfect Game tournament? Why is a plastic ring the end-all, be-all measure of your worth as a coach?
Here’s a better question, do you even know how to develop players?
Because that’s what it feels like, like many of you don’t know how. Like you skip past development because it’s hard. Because it takes time. Because it doesn’t give you a dopamine hit every weekend. So instead, you chase the easy win. You fill your roster with the most talented kids you can find, throw them together for a few games, and act like you built something. Spoiler alert: you didn’t.
Development Isn’t Flashy, But It’s What Matters
Development is slow. It’s thankless. It happens in the cages, on back fields, in early morning reps when nobody is watching and nobody is filming content for Instagram. It’s about helping a kid find his swing, trust his glove, understand the mental side of the game. It’s not about building a team that wins in the fall just to say you’re ranked on a website no serious scout cares about. Do you want to know what ruins youth baseball? This obsession with winning meaningless trophies instead of producing meaningful progress. These kids are in adolescence. This is the time they should be failing, learning, adjusting, growing. Not being shuffled from team to team in pursuit of weekend glory. Not being told they’re only valuable if they go 3-for-3 or throw six scoreless innings. Not being taught that development is a luxury you can’t afford if you want to stay on the roster. What happened to using games to showcase what they’ve been working on? What happened to the process of getting better being the prize? Too many of these organizations would rather poach a strong-armed kid from another club than help a weaker-armed kid in their own program develop into a pitcher. They’d rather cut the kid who’s raw but coachable than invest in him for a season and watch him grow. Because growth is slow. Growth doesn’t win plastic rings by next weekend.
The Reclassing Epidemic
And don’t even get me started on the reclassing game. The idea that a kid who’s clearly more talented needs to play down in age just to “dominate” is ridiculous. If your kid is that good, why isn’t he reclassing up? Why not challenge him? Why not push him to compete against older, more developed players?Because all my life, it was about being good enough to hang with the older kids. That was the badge of honor. Not beating up on kids two grades below you and acting like you’re a stud. You’re not a “dude” if you’re raking off kids who just got out of Little League. You’re not elite if you’re throwing 80 against hitters who haven’t even hit puberty yet. You’re not proving anything except that you’re scared to be average against real competition.
The Ring-Chaser Mentality
Let’s talk about the ring-chasers. Because they’re everywhere now. Parents driving four hours for a one-day tourney. Coaches stacking teams with players from five different counties just to win a weekend event that nobody’s going to remember by Tuesday.
Who cares?
Seriously, who cares about a PG ring in September?
You’re treating developmental tournaments like the College World Series. You’re throwing arms deep into pitch counts, pulling kids after a walk, shortening benches, and riding starters like they’re professionals. For what? A medal? A social media post? We’re forgetting that youth baseball isn’t supposed to be about the adults. It’s supposed to be about the kids. About their love for the game. About helping them grow into players who can compete at the next level, whatever that next level is for them. If you’re coaching for clout, for likes, for mentions on Twitter or IG, you’re part of the problem.
Coaches Who Take Credit for What They Didn’t Build
Now let’s move to the so-called “showcase” teams. The ones who act like they’re responsible for every kid that signs a letter of intent. Let’s get this straight, you didn’t develop that player. You didn’t spend six months with them grinding after school. You didn’t work with them in the offseason. You didn’t help them fix their mechanics or build their confidence after a slump. You picked them up for a few tournaments, put their name on your roster, and now you’re telling people you “got them signed”? Give me a break. You’re not a coach, you’re a poser. A recruiter with a whistle. A stat chaser. You didn’t build anything. You took credit for the house someone else built. Real coaches can see it from a mile away. We see the façade. We see the ego. And we see the damage you’re doing to the game and to the kids. Because when the smoke clears, and those kids stop playing, they’re going to remember who helped them. They’re going to remember who poured into them when they were struggling, who taught them how to handle adversity, who believed in them when no one else did. They’re not going to remember the guy who got them a slot on a showcase roster for three weekends.
We Need More Teachers, Less Recruiters
Baseball is a hard game. It humbles you. It breaks your heart. It demands more than most kids are prepared for and that’s where coaching matters. That’s where development matters. Not in how many wins you rack up, but in how many lessons you pass down. Not in your “program ranking,” but in how your players carry themselves when no one is watching. We need more teachers and fewer recruiters. We need coaches who understand what it takes to develop a hitter who can adjust to a breaking ball, not just ride the wave of a kid who can hit 80 mph fastballs until he turns 15 and gets exposed. We need coaches who care about the sixth guy in the lineup as much as they do the cleanup hitter. Who coach all 12 players, not just the three that’ll get them to Sunday. Because here’s the truth: the scoreboard doesn’t measure growth. It doesn’t measure character. It doesn’t measure potential. It only measures what happened in the moment and that’s not what youth sports should be about.
It’s Time to Clean It Up
To all the so-called coaches out there running club ball organizations: it’s time to clean it up. It’s time to stop pretending that plastic rings and weekend trophies are why you got into this. It’s time to get back to coaching. Real coaching. Developing. Teaching. Pouring into young players who are still learning how to compete, how to focus, how to be a good teammate. Stop chasing rankings on websites nobody respects. Stop stacking rosters to win meaningless tournaments. Stop taking credit for kids you didn’t build. Stop building your brand on the backs of players whose journey you weren’t even part of.
Be better. Or get out. Because real coaches are watching. Real developers are out here doing the work. And we see right through the nonsense. You want respect? Earn it. Not with your record, but with your impact. Not by winning the game, but by winning the kid. And if that doesn’t matter to you, then maybe you were never a coach to begin with.
Behind The Diamond 