Making the Team Isn't the Goal

A player has nine months.

He's going into his freshman year, and the goal is simple:

**Make the high school baseball team.**

So he trains. Week after week. Month after month. He gets stronger. His swing gets better. He starts moving better. His bat speed improves. He handles better pitching. His confidence grows.

Everything is pointed toward one date. tryouts.

And then it happens. He makes the team. Everybody celebrates. The player is excited. His parents are proud. All those months of training feel like they paid off. Mission accomplished.

Except maybe it isn't.

Because there is another outcome nobody really talks about.

He makes the team...and then he doesn't play. He sits. And sits. And sits. A few pinch-hit opportunities. Maybe an inning in the field when the score isn't close. Most games, nothing.

Now take a 14- or 15-year-old kid who just spent nine months believing that making this team was the finish line and put him on a bench for an entire spring.

Think about what happens.

At first, he's still excited. He's wearing the uniform. He's part of the team. He's playing high school baseball. But eventually that excitement starts wearing off. He watches other players get at-bats. He watches other players make mistakes and still get another opportunity. He watches other players develop because they're actually playing.

And he starts wondering:

Why am I not playing?

Am I not good enough?

Does the coach not believe in me?

Did all that work even matter?

That's where something that looked like success can start becoming one of the biggest confidence killers a young player can experience. And there is another side of this that parents don't always see.

Sitting Doesn't Develop You

Baseball development requires repetitions. You need at-bats. You need to face pitchers. You need to make decisions. You need to swing at the wrong pitch, think about why you swung at it, and make a better decision next time. You need to fail. You need to adjust. You need to compete. You need to experience what happens when the game speeds up and learn how to slow it back down.

Simply being on a good team doesn't do that for you.

The name across the front of the jersey doesn't develop you.

The roster you made doesn't develop you.

Playing does. Training does. Competing does.

And sometimes being the last player to make a roster can actually reduce all three.

The high school schedule gets busy.

Practices take up the afternoon. Games take up the evenings. Individual training decreases.

Extra swings decrease.

Development time decreases.

And the player who desperately needed repetitions to continue closing the gap is now getting fewer of them.

Meanwhile, the players who were already ahead of him are playing every day.

The gap can actually get bigger.

That's Why "Make the Team" Is the Wrong Goal

I understand why parents say it.

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"We just want him to make the team."

Of course you do.

Making the team matters.

But if I'm preparing a player for nine months, I don't want to develop him into the last kid who survives the cut.

I want to develop him into a player the coaching staff has a reason to put on the field.

That's a completely different standard.

Instead of asking:

What does he need to do to make the team?

I would rather ask:

What does he need to become so they have a reason to play him?

Can he hit velocity?

Can he control the strike zone?

Can he recognize spin?

Can he defend a position well enough to be trusted?

Can he run?

Can he throw?

Can he execute when the game speeds up?

Does he have something that separates him from the other players trying out for the same spots?

Because eventually a coach has to make out a lineup card.

And being good enough to own a uniform isn't the same thing as being good enough to earn a spot on that lineup card.

The Hard Part for Parents

This is where development gets uncomfortable.

Imagine two possible outcomes.

Player A makes the stronger team but barely plays all season.

Player B doesn't make that team, plays somewhere else, gets 80 meaningful at-bats, continues training, competes every week, makes adjustments, gains confidence, and comes back the following year significantly better.

Which player had the better year?

The answer isn't always Player A.

That's difficult because emotionally, making the team feels like winning.

Getting cut feels like losing.

But development doesn't always follow the scoreboard parents see in the moment.

Sometimes the player wearing the more prestigious uniform is developing less than the player getting 12 at-bats every weekend somewhere else.

I am not saying I want a kid to get cut.

Of course I don't.

Getting cut hurts too.

What I'm saying is that making a roster cannot be where our definition of success ends.

Because the real question isn't:

Did he make the freshman team at 14?

The real question is:

What kind of baseball player is he going to be at 15? At 16? At 17?

That's the timeline I'm thinking about.

Development Has to Be the Goal

When parents bring me a player and tell me, "His goal is to make the high school team," I understand exactly what they mean.

But in my head, I'm thinking beyond tryouts.

I don't just want him walking out of tryouts with a jersey.

I want him walking into the season prepared to compete for at-bats.

I want him strong enough mentally to handle failure.

I want his swing to hold up against better pitching.

I want his decisions to hold up when he's behind in the count.

I want him to understand what pitchers are trying to do to him.

I want him to have enough confidence in his preparation that when he finally gets his opportunity, he isn't hoping he's ready.

He knows he is.

Because high school baseball doesn't care how badly you wanted to make the team.

Once the roster is posted, everything resets.

Now you have to play.

And that requires a different level of development.

So maybe the goal was never supposed to be:

Make the team.

Maybe the goal should have been:

Become Too Valuable Not to Play.

That changes everything.

It changes how we train.

It changes how we measure progress.

It changes what we celebrate.

And most importantly, it changes the player's mindset from trying to survive a tryout to trying to become a baseball player.

That's the player I'm trying to build.