Spiders Elite

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, Quentin and Leo would knock on my door, and we’d head out on our bikes — “bye, Mom!” — to our own personal sandlot.

It was an open field at the corner of Berrien and Pine, open unless we were on it, wearing away home plate and the bases with our high tops. A big maple hung over third base, shading the left side of the field and a dog house that was home to a sometimes agitated spectator.

The first baseline stretched into Pine Street, graced by Cadillacs and Tauruses alike that would create the timeouts and obstacles of summer. Power lines led to the occasional do-over, and foul balls and doubles to right would carom off the bricks of a manufacturing building across the street, sometimes crashing through the windows or landing on the flat roof. The building may or may not have been abandoned, though it would eventually be torn down years later, our open sandlot surviving.

Anything hit to center, once it evaded our glove, would roll and roll and roll. There weren’t fences.

We tossed failed curveballs that we swore were knee bucklers in between consuming homemade freezer pops made from Jell-O and cool-aid. We threw until our arms hurt and threw some more.

Quentin and Leo and my brother Dave and whoever else came by would hit and throw and fight and baseball for hours until the sun disappeared and we had to pedal back home.

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, I spent countless hours playing whiffle ball with my brother in the backyard, set up just right for the ultimate baseball park of our childhoods. I’d whip sidewinding slurves that rarely found the strike zone, and we battled for whiffle supremacy using our own house rules.

Off the house’s dented aluminum siding without a bounce is a single, on the roof and back onto the field is a double, onto the roof and over the house is a triple, and over the house without touching it was the glorious, slow trotting home run.

We held our breath every time the ball rolled down the roof, as the gutter awaited to steal our last remaining, scuffed and broken ball.

But the little secret was that if you swung that long, skinny, yellow bat early and pulled it down the line, you could get a cheap homer over the short picket fence in left. Just don’t pop it to right because the tree will hold your game for ransom.

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, we played rec ball and Little League and Pee Wee Reese and Sandy Koufax. Our coach was rough and angry and great. Our practices were loose and our games were less than perfect, but we thought we were going to the big leagues.

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, we didn’t have travel ball, and any travel was to play the single team our age in nearby towns. We didn’t have options of teams to play on in our small town, we just played for “the team.” It wasn’t AA or majors, it was just our team.

Our uniforms were passed down for a decade or we’d get a tee shirt with a team name ironed on the front, a number and sponsor on the back. Blue trucker hats perched atop our sweaty heads, a block “A” shining above the brim. Stretched out stirrups, unable to hold my skinny calves, rolled to my ankles.

Playing a season of ball cost less than 100 bucks and we had whatever bat and glove we had, usually passed down from an older brother if not two.

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, radio broadcasts shouted the sounds of summer, sometimes the local Tigers or, wire hangers extending our antenna, we’d hear Bob Uecker crackle across Lake Michigan. I knew every player’s number, imitated his batting stance or pitching motion, and knew where he’s played and how he’s done because I had his baseball cards.

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, everyone was nice and everything was perfect and we walked two miles to school in the snow, uphill both ways and GET OFF MY LAWN.

WHEN WE WERE KIDS, it was different. It’s not good or bad. It’s unlikely to be that way again. Our kids will have their own memories and stories that won’t be anything like ours.

And that’s okay.

If you manage to watch one of our games, you may notice something different. You may not see it immediately, and that’s a good thing. The catcher isn’t looking over at the dugout in between pitches.

Most coaches call pitches from the dugout and relay signs to the catcher, who then relays that instruction to the pitcher. Type of pitch (fastball or offspeed), location, pickoffs, and back picks are all things that may be signaled from the dugout.

I don’t do this. The reason is backed in my general philosophies about how I see my role and the end goal for developing baseball players.

You may not agree with it. It is certainly different for most. It can create some level of chaos, but, when done correctly, creates an environment where the players learn to lead and become smarter baseball players.

Let’s take a look first at why I don’t call pitches and then some suggestions to make sure that you use this approach productively.

Calling Pitches Slows the Game Down

The catcher tosses the ball back to his pitcher and gets down into his crouch. He turns his head to the dugout.

Coaches, perched on buckets, discuss the situation. Coach flashes a series of signs.

The catcher misses it. Asks for it again.

Coach flashes the signs again.

The catcher then gives his signs to the pitcher.

Multiply this by about 120 pitches. All of this slows the game down. It makes it harder to watch, but it also creates downtime for the defense. It creates an environment where fielders are less likely to be focused and in the game.

Calling Pitches Can Create Confusion

Have you ever played the game telephone? One person whispers a message to another, who whispers to another. When that message gets to the final person, we often find that it’s a completely different message than originally intended.

Granted, we’re only talking about two sets of messages here. But the chance of either the catcher missing the coach’s signs or pitcher missing the catcher’s signs are higher than relying only on the pitcher getting the sign from the catcher.

The result? Someone’s going to get it wrong. Someone’s going to get yelled at. This can be especially true when back picks and pickoffs are called only as signs relayed to the catcher. If anyone misses that sign, a ball is flying into the outfield.

Opposing Teams Can Steal Your Signs

So, what does a coach do to limit the time it takes or confusion that can be caused by relaying signs? They simplify those signs.

What happens when the coach’s signs are simple? Everyone can see them. Next thing you know, parents, coaches, and even players are picking up on it. “Watch the offspeed!”

If only the catcher is calling pitches and he does a good job of hiding those signs, this eliminates the possibility of stealing signals.

Don’t Create Robots and Pawns

A big part of my decision not to call pitches is related to my overall philosophy. This is not my game. The players are not my pawns. I don’t want to create robots who follow my every command without understanding what they are doing and why.

This is their game.

We need structure and expectation. The players need to be educated and trained outside of games. But I want to avoid interfering in their game as much as possible.

This isn’t complete, sandlot independence. We still have signs and plays. I still implement strategies from the dugout. But whenever possible, I extract myself from decisions that the kids can make.

Create Leaders

One product of this approach is a catcher who gains confidence, learns the game more deeply, and becomes a leader.

It’s a beautiful thing when a catcher calls an amazing game, and a coach can’t take credit for it. Giving a catcher this control gives him more ownership over how the game is run.

It will also create a much more engaged catcher, rather than one simply waiting for the coach’s next direction.

Teach How to Call a Game

Most young catchers will be resistant to this approach at first. They’ll lack the confidence in calling a game properly. That’s where the coaches come in.

Help them understand how to call a game. Teach them the differences in how you might call pitches based on the opposition, spot in the lineup, score, count, and number of outs.

Make sure that the pitcher and catcher are aware in between innings of where you are in the lineup and what hitters have done previously. Use that time to talk to them about what you might want to do. But make sure the catcher is part of these decisions.

You can also have mound meetings during important moments to make sure everyone is on the same page. Ultimately, though, let the catcher drive the decision.

All Ages Can Do This

At the youngest ages, there’s really no argument for a coach to call pitches. You’re just happy if the pitcher can get the ball over the plate. Your control of the game is completely unnecessary.

At the older ages, these kids are smart and experienced enough to call their own game. If they don’t understand, teach them.

The first group of Spiders graduated to high school last year, and I can tell you that we sent smart, well-rounded catchers to those schools. Regardless of whether the high school coaches call the game or not, those boys will be leaders and highly knowledgable in ways that others often are not.

Embrace Some Chaos and Mistakes

Our current group of Spiders had our first season together at 11u last season. Most of our catchers had very little, if any, experience calling a game.

The result was some chaos. There were many teaching moments. Even some frustration. But we got better as the season went on. And this fall, we’ve seen tremendous strides in this area.

There will be growing pains. Looking back, I underestimated how much work our catchers needed here and should have spent more time helping them through this.

It’s why there are two helpful resources in the dugout for the pitcher and catcher that I hope to utilize more in 2020. We have our official scorekeeper who can quickly relay where we are in the lineup and what hitters did previously. We’ll also make working with the pitcher and catcher in between innings a more prominent role for the bench coach.

You May Be Surprised

I encourage you to try allowing your catcher to call games. Not just for an inning or a single game. Allow them to learn from their mistakes and get better.

You can do this slowly, too. Start with league or pool play games, or any game that is less important or less competitive. If for no other reason but to let the boys have a little more fun.

You may be surprised by the results. The kids will not call pitches the way you would. Sometimes that works out really well. Sometimes the catcher is less predictable.

I can tell you first hand that I have far more pride seeing our catcher call a good game than calling a successful game myself. It says that we’re doing more than moving chess pieces around. It shows that we’re creating smart baseball players.

When it starts to click, it’s awesome to watch.

Your Turn

I wrote a second post about the general approach and 14 factors that influence how to call a good game. It may be a good one to share with your catchers.

Do you call pitches, or do you let your catchers do it? What are your thoughts on this?

Let me know in the comments below!

Somewhere along the line, we’ve been fed the myth that the best players are infielders. You should prefer pitcher, shortstop, catcher, third base, second base, and first base (roughly in that order) over anything in the outfield. And if you’re a right fielder? You might as well quit.

This is false. If you’re an outfielder, own it. Be proud of it. Be the best outfielder you can be. Your coach and your team will thank you for it.

Sure, at the youngest of ages, the outfield positions are mostly for show. The ball only gets there because a grounder got through the (prized) shortstop or was thrown around by one of the infielders. But the older you get, the more outfield matters.

And it matters a LOT.

Infielders may have the potential to touch the ball more often, but outfielders can make a much bigger impact on the game. Their execution, or lack of execution, is more likely to lead to or prevent multiple extra bases for the opposition at a time. Valuable extra bases.

It’s no secret that I love talking about my first group of Spiders who graduated to high school after the 2018 season. I was so proud of this team. But we didn’t have dominant pitching or dominant hitting. Far from it. We were really good, but a big reason for that was our outfield play.

The outfield was where fly balls went to die. We had track stars in center and left. A cannon in right. The outfield was probably the greatest strength of that group.

When you have a great outfield, you can win games that don’t feel winnable. The other team, better on paper, had more hitters and a stronger pitcher on the mound. They consistently hit the ball hard. But you got “lucky” because everything just happened to be right at someone.

Or at least that’s how it feels when playing a team with a great outfield.

If you’re a coach, value your outfield. Prioritize it. Teach it. Don’t try to “hide” players there because a ball will always find them. Speak of the importance of outfield so that your players value it, too, and don’t see it as a punishment.

Stop assuming that your most skilled defensive players need to be on the infield. It’s outfield skill that turns singles into outs and extra bases into singles. Converting outs and preventing extra bases are primary ways to win the game.

If you’re a player, own it. Be proud of how you don’t let a ball get by you. That you take the best angles. That you always back up your teammates. Take pride in those diving catches and rocket throws, but also take pride in making the more difficult plays look easy and the routine plays look automatic.

If you’re a parent, never belittle the outfield position. Don’t make it seem like a negative that your child is playing there (it’s NOT). It may be underappreciated, so you need your child to FEEL appreciated. Help them become the best outfielder they can be. The older they get, the more their skills will be valued.

Everyone thinks they’re a shortstop. Not everyone can or will play on the infield. Will you be a positive in the outfield?

Your Turn

How do you show your players the value of the outfield?

Let me know in the comments below!

I’ve learned a lot since I first started the Spiders about four years ago. One of the most important lessons that I could pass on to coaches is how to handle player commitments.

For years, I must have been incredibly lucky. Player families made a verbal commitment, and those families honored that commitment. But when that changed, it was a big wakeup call.

As much as I wanted to blame the families for not honoring their commitments, I shared that blame. I created an environment where opting out was an option, even if that option was merely implied.

My Mistake

My first group of Spiders ran from 12u through 14u, from 2016 through 2018. I had never needed to deal with a situation where a family committed and then later reconsidered.

Well, the first season of my second group of Spiders was a different story. I hope you’ll learn from it.

I managed to assemble a roster quickly. Very quickly for a first-year team. We would have 11 players, and I was excited about the group.

After the final commitments were made, I notified other interested families that we didn’t have a spot for them. I even helped them find spots on other teams.

About two weeks later, two families who had committed then changed their minds.

Oh, no…

You’ll recall that I had already informed the other interested families that they needed to look elsewhere. Truth is that there were several kids who could have played for us. But, not surprisingly, they quickly found new teams.

Now I had nine players. I would eventually add one more, but I could never find that elusive #11. And I wasn’t going to add a warm body for the dues.

This created challenges. Committed families would now need to shoulder more of the financial burden since costs would be split among 10 players rather than 11. After an injury, we were stuck with nine active players for much of the season. Great for reps, but difficult for depth and rest.

It was my fault. I could have prevented it. At a minimum, I could have created expectations and an environment that would have made it less likely.

Require a Deposit

I was far too forgiving in this area. I learned my lesson.

Initially, I told families that I needed a deposit or first payment towards the season. But the truth is that I didn’t truly require it before their spot was officially secured.

In the case of the two families who changed their minds, I hadn’t collected any money. I announced the addition of these two players to my other families. And I turned away other interested players.

These were big mistakes.

Your spot isn’t secured until a deposit is paid. That deposit cannot be refunded if you change your mind.

This deposit is important for a few reasons…

First, it shows they’re serious. They didn’t just commit verbally, they put their money where their mouth is.

Second, it shows they’re capable of making payments. Travel baseball is expensive, and an inability to make this payment is a red flag. You don’t want to chase families for money every month.

Third, it softens the blow if a family does change their mind. That non-refundable deposit can lessen the inevitable increase in costs if you are unable to replace that player.

Make the deposit at least as high as a typical monthly fee, if not higher. Be clear that while you want this player, his spot is not secured until the payment is made. I apply this not only to new players, but returning ones as well.

Do NOT turn away other players until you receive this payment.

Collect Signed Behavior-Related Contracts

Ever since I started the Spiders, I’ve had contracts for players, parents, and coaches. I admit, though, that I’ve gotten lazy over the years about collecting them.

I’ve learned that it’s important that expectations are set and agreed to BEFORE the commitment is made. We do things differently than most teams. You may not agree with that. You should know what you’re getting into.

While you can require a signed player contract prior to commitment, I’ve found that parents are much more likely than players to be a problem. As a result, I now require a signed parent contract prior to officially securing a spot.

These have actually evolved a bit since I first created them. In addition to adding more clarity around my rules and expectations, I require that each expectation is initialed. This provides written record that they not only agree to the entire contract but to each individual item.

The strength of the language in the contract is up to you. You can have a lawyer look at it if you want it to be legally binding. For me, I want to make sure that we are on the same page heading in so that there are no surprises later.

You Can’t Eliminate the Problem

While losing two players after a verbal commitment last year stung, I don’t regret that it happened. It taught me that I need to handle commitments differently. And those families ultimately decided that the Spiders were a bad fit, so it was good that they found new teams that worked for them.

These steps won’t eliminate the loss of players following commitments. However, it should make your commitments stronger. It should make it less likely that those who commit will change their minds. And it makes the end goal, adding players and families who are a good fit, reachable.

A Message to Parents

This post has been directed towards coaches, but there’s some value in it for parents, too.

Deposit, contract, or not, don’t commit to a team until you’re ready. Ask every question you need to ask to be sure the team is a good fit. You can help avoid making the awkward decision to leave if you first make a well-informed decision to commit.

Your Turn

Is there anything else you do to help solidify your player commitments?

Let me know in the comments below!