Coach Larson Says “Bench Them All!”

Things got a little weird on the baseball diamond last weekend. For the first time in my illustrious career as a maker of men, we had to bench some players for bad behavior. I’ve had to make threats about benching before, but never had to execute on those threats. Not that I can remember at least. But this past weekend, whether it was their developing hormones, the early game time, or the effects of the heat, we had a group of twelve-year-olds temporarily lose their minds this past Saturday.

You could tell something was off from jump street. Some of our older players, strutting around before the game to let everybody know how awesome they are, were already making detrimental comments. Their egos were further inflated by the opponent — a team we usually beat with ease. With the game about to start, there wasn’t much time for a big speech, so we got on them to support each other and left it at that. But then in our first at-bats, the “Big 3” all hit into some very bad luck and collectively blew a gasket. Within two innings the negativity was coursing all the way through the entire fourteen-man roster (an over-sized roster being a problem we can discuss another day.)

Everybody was complaining about something. One kid started accusing the greatest third base coach of all time, yours truly, of giving the wrong steal sign, even though it hasn’t changed all season. One kid lamented his bad luck in having a hard-hit ball caught. One kid started complaining about the ump on ever singly play, just because he got thrown out — legitimately so. The game itself was a weird one, where “balls with eyes” managed to get by our players when we were in the field, and balls that we were murdering at the plate were getting caught by Timmy Lupus. Soon the negativity was spreading like a virus.

We heard it all. First it was the other team “stinks.” Then it was the other team is just “lucky.” Then it was “the ump is blind.” Then they started complaining about strikes and balls. Even the kids who didn’t care about the game started complaining. Our youngest player moaned about how tired he was because he hadn’t had breakfast and was running on two hours of sleep. Turns out he had stayed up all night playing Fortnite the night before (a fact he was very proud of). Another player started complaining about batting last, even though he’s made it quite clear he doesn’t like to hit or even want to play baseball, and would prefer not to wear a hat because it messes up his hair.

By the third inning, just as I was getting ready to bench them all, one of our players completely shocked us by throwing an F-bomb at the other team’s first baseman. Our guy was trying to leg out a hit but was thrown out by a mile, so he faked a trip over the first base bag and made up some cockamamie excuse that the first baseman interfered with him. Getting up, he aggressively turned to the first baseman and shouted “get the f— out of my way!” I was so surprised I looked to left field, wondering where the hell that came from.

Everybody heard him. Moms and their little kids heard him. Every player on both teams heard him. Some guy spending an unusually long time in the porta potty heard him. Standing all the way across the diamond at third base, even I heard him, and I can’t hear what you’re saying if you’re standing right next to me and someone else is talking. Me and the other coach looked at each other like “what the heck is going on today?” Neither of us had seen a collective melt-down like this before and I certainly never had a kid do something like that before. Player benching ensued.

This might be one of the weirdest teams I’ve coached because when it comes down to it, they are all great kids. It’s just that those great kids only show up every other game. The game before Saturday’s they won 12-0, but it wasn’t the win that made them great. What made them great was their positivity, and willingness to support each other. But after every game they play the right way, they play the next game like a bunch of Greek gods, selfish and petulant.

During Saturday’s debacle, we pulled them all aside in the middle of the game and let them know this wasn’t going to fly. We benched the miscreants and told everyone to get positive in a hurry by cheering each other on. And wouldn’t you know, the number 9-14 hitters scored us five runs in the very next inning. We didn’t win the game in the end, and I’m glad we didn’t. What message would that have sent? But in all the years of coaching kids, I have never seen a single inning highlight this truth about team-play better: a positive mindset wins the day more often than not.

I’ve coached teams that were much worse than this one and somehow won it all. I’ve coached teams that were better than this one, played the game the right way, and just missed winning it all. But all of those teams were a helluva lot more positive and supportive of each other for every game, which gave them a better chance of winning every game. Hopefully this crew has finally learned that lesson, and next weekend’s game doesn’t turn into a scene from Roadhouse. If it does, we’re going to bench them all!