"Dad, I Got Cut."

Words I never expected to hear from my 15 year old son who is a sophomore in high school.

Today is Opening Day across Major League Baseball and opening week for high school baseball across northern Indiana. This is the time of year where my soul comes to life and resurrects itself from the winter doldrums and the madness of March, but this spring the air seems to hang a little heavier. As the initial shock of getting this news from my son started to wear off anger began to take over, then rage and the demand for answers. Yet as I was struggling to find a way to string together a few hours of sleep at night, I noticed that my son didn't seem to be nearly as upset as I was. I sat back and started to try and figure out why? As the answers began to reveal themselves I really had to look in the mirror and think about certain things in life, along with my approach to coaching my younger son's baseball team.

For the past 8 years baseball has really been our family life and identity. Our kids have played other sports, but they never had the interest or talent like they do with baseball. Over the course of those years we have met many of our closest friends. Likewise, my son's best friends in the world are the ones he spent his summers with playing travel baseball with. Despite going to different high schools, they all manage to stay in close contact and still get together as much as possible. For 8 years my son lived baseball. From all the trophies and personal accomplishments to some of the recruiting events, he loved everything about baseball. He can name more MLB Network hosts than actors or celebrities. When you ask about what he wants to do in the future, it involves sports marketing or management or sports journalism, but preferably in the baseball industry.

So how could he seemingly handle getting cut better than me? I mean yeah, I still want to play baseball for a living, and I might have a slight obsession with the nuances of the sport, but it's not the focal point of my world like it is for him. As an adult I have to focus on my job, paying bills, and taking care of my family. In my down time I get to focus on the sports world and coaching my other son's travel baseball team. I would think he'd be the one losing sleep instead of me, but instead all I could think about was how did this happen? Even more so, I started to think of my younger son who is coming up to eventually play, or not play, for the same coaches. I started asking how can I become a better coach to my group of kids on my travel baseball team through my son's experience getting cut? But before I could start coming to this resolution, I had to dive deeper into my older son's experience.

Part of watching your kids play for so many years is you see a number of the same kids for years. You get a pretty good idea of where your kid stands compared to the other kids in their age group. My son was not a fast kid by any means, and he could have gotten into better athletic shape, but by no means is he a plodding kid with no athletic ability. Yet, no coach specifically addressed this with him. His arm strength is right in the middle of the pack for his class, but he had always been a solid pitcher who could hit spots and move the ball around.

After a solid freshman season where he hit 3rd or 4th all year and was one the top pitchers, we had no reason to believe he in danger of being cut. We all knew he was not in the top third of his class at school, but he wasn't near the bottom third either.

At the very end of his summer season while pitching, he felt a pop in his elbow and was immediately removed from the game. This had happened before when he was 12 and had cost him 6 weeks. When it happened neither his mom or I were there. When we learned what happened we were concerned and shaken up but having some experience with him and this issue in the past, we just wanted to get answers and start down the road to recovery as soon as possible. At that time, we had absolutely no idea that we had just missed him playing his last baseball game ever.

As the world of modern year round high school sports goes, we were relieved but concerned when we were given the initial diagnosis of a fractured elbow. We were relieved that at the time we were told rest was all that was required, and no surgery was necessary. However, we were concerned that he might be limited with what he could do at open fields in September for a baseball season that started 6 months from now. Competition at the school is fierce and he had struggled for the first time in his baseball career during the summer. The school has close to 4,000 kids and are currently ranked number 1 in the state, so spots on the roster are precious and coveted.

So as soon as he could resume activities we went to work. We sought out the best hitting instructor in the area and sought out a top notch throwing specialist. These are the guys that all the top pitchers and hitters in our area seek out. We worked 2 days a week with those instructors and my son saw tremendous growth. Suddenly his confidence was back. He loved going to work with both of those guys, and the progress he was seeing was only helping fuel optimism for the upcoming 2019 season. He was also seeing his best results in the weight room and winning competitions during strength and conditioning workouts. All signs were pointing to possibly his best season ever.

Then as the calendar flipped another setback occurred with his arm. During a basic throwing exercise in the first practice with his high school team his elbow popped again and completely locked up. Confused and frustrated with how this could have happened, we had tired of our current orthopedic doctor because we knew we were not getting the right answers, and now the baseball season was fast approaching. As a parent, my concern focused on my son's elbow and long-term health, but a close second was how this would impact his availability for the upcoming season. This drew my wife and I to seek out a second opinion, and we finally learned that there was permanent damage in his elbow. He had a condition where the UCL ligament had grown over a bone chip that had not properly healed from his initial injury when he was 12. This would cause his elbow to randomly "pop" without warning. Everything swells and there is virtually no mobility for a week or so, but eventually things return to normal with no pain. Two times being misdiagnosed had led to this juncture, but we were pleased to finally have some answers. The orthopedic doctor told us he had worked with college players that have this type of injury. We were given the option of surgery or trying to strengthen the arm and hopefully navigate the next two calendar years of baseball without incident before riding off into the sunset. Most of his players with this condition elected to not have surgery and just shift to play first base, which is my son's natural position anyways.

As parents we were excited to finally have answers and know that surgery was not recommended or necessarily needed. Our son had always been a good baseball player, but he had already declared that he didn't want to attend and play baseball at a small college, he wanted the big college experience. So as parents we were excited that he should be able to finish out his high school baseball career without surgery, but he would have to give up pitching and/or catching.

Yet, despite our relief and excitement as parents there wasn't much coming from our son. After talking things over with him, I emailed the high school coach to let him know that our son was not going to be able to pitch or catch this year, and that he would not be able to participate in activities until cleared by the doctor. The response I got back was rather chilly and dismissive. So during the winter months our son headed to baseball practice 3 nights a week knowing he would be a limited participant for anything that involved throwing. Additionally, he continued on with his hitting lessons and arm rehab on the days he didn't have practice along with his travel ball workouts on Sundays . For 2 months he literally did baseball activities 6 days a week. He never fussed about the travel ball workouts or the hitting and throwing sessions, but the school practices brought out a different side of him.

When we would ask how the practices were going with the team he would not say too much. We would ask if the coaches had been following up with him on his arm or helping him with his rehab program that had been laid out by the throwing instructor. All we got in return was feedback that nobody seemed concerned about his arm or was working with him. Eventually my son just decided to jump into throwing drills knowing that his arm was not 100 percent, but concerned that the coaches were writing him off.

Flashforward a few weeks later when my wife went to seek out input from the coaches as to how our son had gone from being the starting first baseman and middle of the order hitter to cut the next season, she received some information that will forever change how I handle and manage kids.

Before she went in to meet with the coaches I tried to persuade her out of the meeting. I have been the coach on the other side of the desk from confused or upset parents. I have been the coach that has had to tell parents that the reason your son is not playing is because he is not good enough, not fast enough, not athletic enough, or not strong enough. As a coach it is not a fun message to deliver to a parent who loves their kid more than anything. I have also had to tell parents that their kid is not playing or was cut because of their character or actions when they are not around, which often is very difficult for a parent to hear. However, as a coach I always stuck to the facts and focused on the individual kid. I tried to not compare them to others and did not venture into the gray areas.

I prepared her to hear things she did not want to hear, but were probably true. I wanted to be the supportive husband, but I knew my emotions would get the best of me in a meeting and I was thinking about the fact I have another son coming up through the system that plays baseball. I told her they would tell her that our son was slow and that with his arm injury he was limited to pretty much one position. I prepared her to hear that they didn't think his bat was good enough to play first base for their program as a varsity player. I told her the meeting would likely be short and the tone pretty quiet. They would most likely state a few facts, offer their condolences, and then send her on her way. Little did I know that I was dead wrong.

Contrary to what I predicted, my wife was told that the coaching staff did not think he was committed. They questioned whether his arm injury was legitimate, and they sarcastically insinuated that he had used it as an excuse to get out of practicing, despite the fact we had submitted doctors orders to the trainers and teachers to excuse him from activities. All of this despite the fact that not one time did a coach ask him about his arm or how it was progressing or help him with his rehab. They also told her that he had missed several practices and workouts, which was not true. When my wife questioned them on this she was yelled at and told not to question them on this. She was also told that he was the only kid in the entire program that could not perform a certain fitness activity during a practice, which was also not true.

Hearing this only fueled my rage. I could understand and respect they may not think he was good enough or fast enough for their program, but why would they make false statements and discredit an arm injury? Why would they take an aggressive tone with my wife who had put in many hours helping the program the past year? Why would they be so dismissive of a kid who they had been so complimentary of only a few months prior? As we began to peel back the layers, it is because their focus was on one thing, winning.

As a competitor and a parent, I do not fault them in the least for wanting the kids who give them the best competitive edge to win. That is their right as coaches and men who spend many hours with their baseball program. It doesn't mean I have to agree that my kid isn't more talented than a number of kids who did make the team; however, I do wonder why no coach talked to my son about his injury. Other kids in the program have injuries and are on the team. Why was my son's injury deemed not as significant as other kids? I understand not keeping a kid who cannot physically make all the plays, but why did my son feel like he had to jump ahead of where he was supposed to be in his rehab and risk further injury? How did my son go from loving baseball to almost seeming relieved not to be playing?

The answer to both questions in my son's words is that the coaches did not care one bit about him as person, but only on winning. Baseball became a job to him. More importantly, baseball for him wasn't fun anymore.

As a parent this really hit me hard. How can playing baseball not be fun for him anymore? It was fun a few months ago. How can my son not feel comfortable telling a coach his arm isn't ready to do an activity or that he can't do something because he is injured? He could always tell his travel ball coaches that his arm hurt or that he couldn't participate because of an injury. Is that someone I want my kids to play for? Nobody loves winning more than me, but I don't want my kids risking injury for someone who doesn't seem to care about them or their well-being. I don't want my kids playing for someone who might be more concerned about their own record than whether or not my kid has a large incision in his arm in a couple of years.

This angry dad and coach of youth baseball had to do a little looking in the mirror. What would my kids and parents who play for me say about me? Do they feel comfortable telling me the truth? Do they view going to practice as a job? Do I make baseball fun for them? I know I am a detail freak, so our practices and workouts are not always fun. I want our kids to be prepared for every scenario. Practice plans are written well in advance and can be meticulous. I know that when my kids get to their high school, their coaches will be handed a ready-made product in terms of the nuances of the game.

Lost in this obsession by a crazed youth coach is how do my players feel about this. More importantly, what about my 13 year old son who is taking this all in? Is baseball still fun for him, or is he starting to view it as a job? He did not have the school practices 3 days a week during the winter, but he did the same hitting, throwing, and travel baseball workouts my older son did the other 3 days a week. Additionally we might hit another day in a given week on our own. He never complained, but it's not like he sprinted to grab his gear each day either. He never complained, but he never asked either.

As a coach I hop on social media and see constant posts from parents, coaches, and evaluators preaching phrases like do not get out-worked, hard work pays off, outwork the competition, etc. While I love those phrases and what they stand for, I now have a different perspective on them. Having a son who did do all of the hard work, who did work harder than a lot of other kids, but no longer is playing and doesn't want to play because baseball felt like a job hit home. How does baseball feel like a job when you're 15 years old? When did we get to that point in society? As a father and a travel ball coach I'm a big contributor to that culture.

Should kids learn the value of hard work? Absolutely. I would put my kids' work ethic in all aspects of life against anyone else's kids. Hard work has been ingrained into our kids way of dealing with any situation or adversity when they want something in life. As teachers, my wife and I have no other way to really provide things for our kids than by modeling hard work.

Yet as a parent and baseball coach I need to have perspective. What is the hard work for? More importantly who is the hard work for? Living in northern Indiana, there aren't many Division 1 baseball players that come from here outside of where my son goes to high school. That is the reality of where we live. Where my kids go to school, sports are cut-throat and coaches can demand more from players and parents because of the competition for roster spots. Coaches know that you are at their mercy to play by their rules and push through injuries or they can find somebody to replace you. More importantly, there are not many schools in this area that are in a position to cut any kids from high school baseball teams. For the most part in our area, if kids want to play high school baseball, have average ability, and are willing to work as hard as the other kids then they will be on the team.

So why are we pushing our kids to work harder than everybody else? Is it for life-long lessons or for our short-term gratification when we as parents can sit in the stands and watch our kids do well? Are we in fact driving our kids away from a sport by making it seem like a job? Am I putting too much pressure on my own kids by expecting them to practice multiple days a week? Would I be this way if they went to a smaller school and could just do what everybody else on the team does and not only be good enough to make the team, but be good enough to be a top player on the team?

I mean let's face it, baseball is a brutal sport to practice. Every other sport you can simulate live game action, but baseball practices consist of many reps of doing the same thing over and over again. Those reps often take place indoors in a setting nothing like a real game. Balls are pounded into nets instead of the satisfaction of watching them sail into the outfield. Ground balls are fielded and shuffled to the side without the satisfaction of throwing on a runner. Base-stealing technique is worked on without the satisfaction of actually stealing the bag.

As dynamic as a baseball coach can try to be, baseball practices involve a lot of standing around and idle time for players, unlike most other sports. If you don't love it, baseball can feel like a job. If you don't have a coach that you love, baseball can feel like a job. In football, hockey, or basketball you can match kids up in competitive drills that simulate game action. In fact, in the other sports you can actually scrimmage. Baseball cannot be scrimmaged indoors, and outdoors it is difficult because there are often not enough players on the roster to round out all positions and a batting lineup. Plus, it's hard to go against your own pitchers because you do not want to wear down their arms or risk injury, so often times it is a coach throwing batting practice, which is nowhere near as competitive as a real game or live practice situation.

Yet that doesn't mean that baseball coaches can't or shouldn't develop close relationships with their players. In fact, I would argue that baseball coaches have a better opportunity to get closer to their players than any other coach. As a basketball coach, almost every second of practice is spent moving and coaching. The bonding time with players our the conversations that take place before and after practice. But baseball often allows players and coaches to bond during practice. As a baseball coach patrols practice or workouts, natural conversations and checkpoints between coach and players should flow. The opportunities to bond with players is so much more natural to the flow of the sport with baseball, so how could my son's coaches not know him, ask how he is doing, or care about some of the things he was going through?

Over the years there is nothing more rewarding as a coach than having a former player reach out to invite you to their wedding or to have a couple beers with you and catch up on things. That is the reassurance and long term reward for the sacrifices that we make as coaches. We have our own family, but that family is always being expanded to include others. And while all of those players know exactly how much I hated losing, they knew that they could come to me with any of their problems. Instead of looking the other way while in public, they are eager to come up and say hello and catch up on things. They knew back then and now that I will always ask them how they are doing and what is going on in their life. To me, that is what separates the true coaches from those that are in it for themselves.

While my current 13 year old players are a long way from inviting me to their weddings or having beers together, I hope one day that we can do that. And not because I am some lonely guy who needs the self-gratification or assurance of hanging out with former players and reliving the good ole days, but because we have established a level of trust with each other over the years that we can have a genuine moment outside the confines of baseball many years from now. I have never been a coach who has tried to force a feeling of family upon my players. That is a feeling and culture that comes over time through authentic actions and moments, not during fabricated "team-building" activities. I cringe sometimes when I see other coaches talking about that because I feel like family isn't something you talk about, it is something that you are and become.

My son getting cut has reminded me that baseball is supposed to be fun for kids. Kids should be smiling and not dreading going to practice. It's ok to have fun and learn at the same time. As parents we keep putting more pressure and expectations on kids at younger ages. We want to dissect the game on the ride home, or sometimes even on the way to the car before the ride home. As parents we're breaking down swings, pitch recognition, mental approach, and body language. We're constantly telling them things they could or should do to get better. But how often do we tell them how much fun it was to just watch them play?

It literally cuts me to the bone to know that I'll never get to see my oldest son play again. This week has been especially difficult seeing all of the social media posts and checking all of the box scores. I know all of the hard work my son put in and the talent that he possess. I know at 99% of all other schools across the state he would not only be on a JV roster, but at a good number of schools he would be on a varsity roster. It's hard to hold back tears and when I realize I'll never get to pat him on the back after a game and say good job.

This experience hasn't changed how I feel about my oldest son one bit, in fact it has brought us closer, but it has drastically changed the relationship between my younger son and I over the last few weeks. I am so appreciative of the time we get to spend together going to practices or lessons. We don't talk as much about baseball as we do other things. When the games start, I'll be hoping he can go out and get a couple of hits and have a good outing on the mound, but I'll just be glad I got to watch him play. Driving to hitting lessons without my oldest son has really driven home the reality even more for myself and my younger son.Having those moments unexpectedly ripped away from me with my older son has taught me to cherish them with my younger son even more.

I urge all other dads out there to do the same with their kids. I realize that I am a lucky man to have all of my kids around and in good health. Many parents out there cannot say the same, so I do not mean to be coming off like I am treating this like a death. However, I sincerely implore parents to enjoy the opportunity to watch your kid play, and hopefully they will still have the love of the game that brought them to this point. Enjoy the opportunity to commune with other parents while watching the great sport of baseball. Cherish the car rides and postgame conversations. But remember that baseball shouldn't feel like a job, it shouldn't feel like something they have to do out of obligation to you or for their coach.

As coaches at the youth levels, it should be our job to ensure that our kids are having fun. Yes winning does help that, but you are the facilitator of everything, and you create the culture. I am very grateful for the baseball coaches my son had in the past that did foster his love of the game and did show a genuine interest in him as an individual. He would not have gotten to the point where he wanted to work in baseball after college without you.

For myself, I am really struggling with having a roster of 13 kids entering the upcoming season. I didn't want to be the coach who told certain kids they were no longer good enough, so we have 13 kids for a sport where there are 9 positions. I see these kids and families as more than just assets that can be used to help win or potentially lose games. I know I am going to have to be the bad guy that doesn't let them play as much as they want or as much as their parents think that they should. But I know I'm not going to be the coach who forces a kid to hide an injury or spends nine months a year with a kid and doesn't get to know them or what is going on in their life. Heck, maybe somebody will write a blog about me and criticize my coaching style.

But at the end of the day, I hope that my son getting cut will teach all of us to not take these days as parents for granted and miss these opportunities as coaches to really build relationships with kids while teaching a game we all love. I knew the playing days for my oldest son were winding down, but I never expected them to end so abruptly. I hope my parents and players see a coach this year that is really appreciating every moment he has to not only watch his own son play, but all of his kids play, because I consider all 13 of my players my kids. While my own son getting cut has produced a number of private tears, it is going to produce a coach who smiles a heck of a lot more while coaching his youth travel baseball team.