03/11/2025
Thank you to all of the wonderful coaches over the years that have dedicated their time for the love of the game and to help our youth share that love too!
Dear Parents,
This afternoon, as I stood on the muddy field adjusting practice cones, I overheard a parent mutter, “He has no idea what he’s doing.” For a split second, I almost turned around. But instead, I kept my eyes on the kids—the ones laughing as they chased a soccer ball through the rain. Because at the end of the day, they’re why I’m here.
Let me reintroduce myself: I’m Mark, the volunteer. The one who raised his hand when the league begged for coaches. The one who rearranges meetings, skips family dinners, and spends weekends washing jerseys in my garage. The one who doesn’t get paid a dime—but pays plenty.
Here’s what you don’t see:
5:30 AM: My alarm goes off so I can finish work early and make it to practice.
6:15 PM: I’m already at the field, lining bases or unclogging a dugout drain while you’re stuck in traffic.
8:45 PM: After your child’s been picked up, my kid and I haul gear to my car… again.
I know what you’re thinking: “Why does his daughter always play shortstop?” Truth? I’m harder on her than anyone. She’s cried twice this season. Meanwhile, your son—the one you swear should pitch more—hasn’t shown up to a single practice.
Let’s talk about sacrifice.
Yes, my car’s a mess. My boss side-eyes my early exits. My own kids sometimes ask, “Why do we always have to stay late?” But here’s the secret: I love this. I love watching your shy son finally high-five a teammate. I love the girl who told me, “This is the only place I feel brave.”
But I’m tired.
Tired of the emails nitpicking lineups. Tired of parents showing up 15 minutes post-first-pitch, barking advice. Tired of the assumption that I’ve got nothing better to do.
So here’s my ask:
Volunteer once. Carry the gear bag. Hand out post-game snacks. Something.
Trust me. I’ve studied these kids for hours. I know who’s scared of fastballs, who thrives under pressure, who needs a win today.
Teach your kids gratitude. A high-five or a “Thanks, Coach” means more than you know.
And if you still think you could do better?
Next season, the clipboard’s yours. I’ll even help you start. But until then—let me coach. Not just the kids… but us. Let’s model resilience, not rage. Teamwork, not tally sheets.
Because years from now, these kids won’t remember their win-loss record. They’ll remember the coach who stayed until their mom got off work. The teammate who cheered loudest. The parent who chose kindness over criticism.
See you at the field,
Coach Mark
P.S. If this resonates, pass it on. Let’s rewrite the playbook for the next generation. ⚾
