Why We Left the Travel Team My Son Worked So Hard to Make
My son tried out for the local travel team at 9 years old and didn’t make it. We were okay with that—what wasn’t okay was how it was handled. We never got a call, an email, not even a text. Just silence. And that silence said everything. A coach is supposed to be a leader, and leaders communicate. If you can’t do that, you’re not leading—you’re just running a team.
So we pivoted. We found a well-regarded hitting coach and started weekly lessons. My son’s swing sharpened, his confidence grew, and eventually he tried out for a team in the next town over.
That coach? Night and day. He was a communicator. He laid out expectations clearly. He explained his plan for the season. Most importantly, he supported my son and gave him a real chance to grow. He batted leadoff. He played third base—a position he didn’t think he could handle at first, but grew into with time and work. It was exactly what he needed at that stage.
A year later, my son tried out again for the local travel team. This time, he made it. It was a big moment for him—he was pumped. All that work had finally paid off.
But it didn’t take long before we realized: this wasn’t the opportunity we thought it would be.
There were 13 kids on the roster—four of them sons of the coaches. You can probably guess who never sat. My son batted last all season. In tournament games, where only 11 players hit, he often didn’t bat at all. He played a lot of right field. Spent a lot of time on the bench.
The final straw? The team won a tournament, and he didn’t play a single inning.
On the way home, I asked him, “Well… you won. But you didn’t play. Is this what you wanted?”
He said, “No.”
At 11 years old, kids need to be playing. They need reps. They need to succeed, fail, and figure it out. That doesn’t happen from the bench while the same four kids play every inning and bat in every big moment.
And more than that, kids need to be around adults who believe in them. Who support them. Who put development over wins and egos.
So we left. We called his old coach—the one who challenged him, supported him, and gave him the space to grow—and he welcomed my son back without hesitation.
Because at this age, the right coach matters more than the right jersey.
And playing the game is more valuable than watching it from the sidelines.
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