Let the Kids Play!

At some point, we drifted into the idea that baseball is supposed to be work. I’m not talking about professional baseball. At that level, it is work—by definition. Players are paid to perform at the highest level in the world. That’s a job. That’s a profession. That’s actual work. That’s not what I mean.

I’m talking about youth baseball. All of it—right up through high school. And honestly, this probably applies to youth sports in general. Somewhere along the way, we lost our way. When did this happen? You see it every day if you scroll through Instagram. Grown men talking about “grinding” through a 10U season. About “building” the perfect player inside some kind of manufacturing plant.

What?

When did suffering become the point? When did improvement get tied to misery, instead of curiosity, joy, and play? Why must we suffer to get better? Why can’t we enjoy what we’re doing and improve at the same time? And why has it become a badge of honor to do unpleasant things—especially to kids—in the name of growth?  What happened to fun?

Here’s some perspective—Major League Baseball has had 30 teams since 1998. For nearly three decades, there have been roughly 750 active roster spots in the entire world. That number hasn’t changed. The opportunity has always been incredibly rare, reserved for the very best players on the planet.

Yet the amateur world keeps selling a different story: that any kid can make it if they just “work hard enough,” grind enough, bleed enough. And if they don’t make it? Well, at least they suffered properly along the way. So now we’ve created a system where the experience itself is miserable—and if the outcome doesn’t pan out, the memory of the game is tied to struggle, pressure, and disappointment.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Because here’s the truth: when people—especially kids—enjoy what they’re doing, they get better at it almost effortlessly. If a player can’t wait to get to the field because they know they’re going to have fun, they’re open. They’re curious. They’re receptive. They learn. They improve.

Laughter matters. If you’re laughing, you’re probably learning.

This doesn’t magically change at the professional level either. Major League clubhouses play better when they’re loose and connected. It’s not the other way around. Teams don’t have fun because they’re winning—they win more often because they’re enjoying the process. When the field becomes a grind, performance suffers. Miserable players don’t play well.

Players perform more freely, more creatively, and more confidently when they’re smiling than when the game feels like a job. Making it miserable doesn’t make them play better—it actually makes them worse. So, enjoy the 11U season. It’s the only one you’ll ever get.

Do you want your team to play better?

Lighten up. Baseball is a game. Let it be one.