Building a little league juggernaut
By: Joe Godfrey
Tags: Father And Son, San Mateo, Little League, Dads, Baseball

January 15, 2019: Draft day!

We gather in the comfy confines of the board room at Trinta park. When I say “board room”, you’re probably thinking something like this:

Sorry to disappoint, but we’re a non-profit, 100% volunteer run organization. Our board room is more like this:

And by “more like this” I mean “actually this”. That’s our board room.

In the room are the six managers (including me), plus the President, two other board members, take-out from Jack’s Restaurant, and thousands of seeds/nuts in various stages of shelling and consumption. The draft is a snake format, where the team who selects first overall selects last in the 2nd round (12th overall), first in the 3rd round (13th), and so on.

I’ll be leaving out my exact pick position, along with tons of other specific information. Clearly, adults take this way too seriously — I mean, I wrote this and you’re reading it — but there’s no reason to give hints to which kids got taken when. It’s only the parents who care anyway — the kids just want to play ball.

When it’s my turn to make my first pick, I’m contemplating the tradeoffs. Should I go for the kid who is the most skilled right now? Or the one with the most upside? Or the one you know puts in the work? Or should I take the kid with the parent who will be incredibly helpful? Or the one that my son really, really, really wants on the team? Occasionally the sun shines on you and one kid ticks all the boxes. Easy first pick.

My subsequent picks were tougher, but not for the reasons you might think. For the rest of the draft, the biggest surprise was how many kids were available to me who I think should have been taken 1–3 rounds earlier. Every time my turn came around, I struggled because there were too many kids left who I wanted. Multiple kids who should’ve already been picked (based, again, on my flawless model)

I totally understand now how NFL GMs are genuinely excited with every pick, thinking they just got the steal of the draft. Literally every pick I was thinking “I can’t believe this kid is still available!” Wait, is there something I don’t know? Did I not evaluate him properly? Are his parents going to be supportive and contribute? Crap, why did I sign up to do this again??

Turns out, I knew exactly what I was doing. Or, more likely, I just got really lucky. Every single kid on my team — top to bottom— has the basic skills required to play baseball. They can all catch, throw, and hit. None of them are terrified of the ball. They all listen (most of the time). All the parents were supportive — many volunteering their time and considerable knowledge. Two of the moms played college softball and another played in high school. I got a team sponsor and team parent without any hounding. And we had multiple moms and dads who just love baseball and wanted to help. And as mentioned earlier, my co-manager is also a true little league savant, which is no bad thing.

And most of all, they’re all GREAT kids. They all want to get better, to contribute to the team, to learn, and to have fun. Do you have any idea how much easier it is to manager a team of 8–10 year-olds when they actually want to be there? And when the parents want to be there? And when everyone agrees that learning and having fun are the primary goals?

Only photo I have from our very short season. I guess I was too busy managing

We lost our first game and won our second. Every kid played some infield in each game. The bats were coming along, and every kid stood strong in the box and took swings. Five kids pitched and we were on track for everyone to pitch at least once. We were building a strong, well-balanced team where every kid was going to contribute and play a meaningful role. Then COVID-19 came along and shut it all down. I’m not sure exactly where we’d have ended up come playoff time, but I liked our chances.

When the season got delayed, all the managers were bummed. We all desperately wanted to get back to playing and to be with our team again. But…I imagine for some managers there might have been a silver lining of “No more yelling at Tommy to stop swinging his bat at everyone and disrupting practice” or “I won’t miss Jimmy’s dad telling me that I’m blowing his kid’s chances to go pro by not playing him at shortstop” or “At least I won’t be embarrassed when Jake’s mom yells at the 12-year-old umpire to pull his head out of his ass.”

I had none of that. I miss all the kids. I miss all the parents. I *think* we had pretty good players, but I *know* we had a great team. As California starts to ease restrictions and Little Leagues are reopening on other states, my fingers are crossed that we can get in some type of season with this group.

And if not?

Based on the joy and dedication I witnessed, I don’t see any of these kids giving up baseball anytime soon. So my silver lining is knowing I’ll get to share the field with all of them again. Of course, now that my secrets are out, it’ll be tougher for me to draft them all. But whether they’re on my team or not, I’ll be rooting for them. I see great things ahead — for Little League, for baseball, and for these families. And I can’t wait to get there.

P.S. For those of you who were feeling sorry for me being on the Auxiliary Board, you’ll be thrilled to know that a regular Board spot opened up. To claim it, all I had to do was agree to take on the highly sought after position of “Whiffle Czar” (aka commissioner). It’s sort of like being a real Czar (or Tsar if you prefer), but with more power and responsibility (I assume).