At 13, I Almost Burned Out

That Friday night in July, I faked being sick to get out of baseball.

Baseball was my life. And I was done.

The summer after Little League ended, I got asked to play for an AAU team. This was back when there were only 1 or 2 teams around, way before travel ball became what it is today. I took the opportunity not knowing what was ahead.

I worked out with the team much of that winter, balancing middle school basketball, friends, school, life. The game schedule kicked off around Memorial Day, and for the next three months I was playing doubleheaders every weekend all over New England.

Two to four-hour drives. Fields in the middle of nowhere. Teammates I barely knew.

It was a lot. I wasn't alone. Many of my teammates felt the same. It was something we talked about constantly in the dugout.

My parents were incredible. They made it happen. I'm grateful for their support.

But halfway through the summer, I wanted nothing to do with baseball.

I started to dread the weekends. Dread the long car rides. Dread playing in the heat all day for games that meant nothing.

So that Friday night in July, I faked being sick.

My parents knew I wasn't sick. But they also knew I needed a break.

Later that weekend, I told them the truth: I wasn't having fun. I just wanted to be a kid. Have a summer with my best friends.

My parents felt my frustration. They saw what was happening, a kid with talent on the verge of quitting before high school.

Because that would have happened. If you're a parent and you think it won't, you're misinformed.

For me, baseball was life. And I was ready to walk away.

They told me to finish the summer, and we'd figure out next year when it came.

The next summer, I played American Legion ball with my closest friends. The joy came back. I had energy to train and put in the extra work.

It was a relief. Not just that I could be done with that grind, but that my parents listened.

Looking back now, as a parent myself, I can see exactly what my parents did right:

If your kid is telling you they're not having fun, this isn't failure. It's information.

If your kid is dreading practice, faking injuries, finding excuses not to go, they're not soft. They're telling you something is wrong.

The question is: Are we listening as parents?

That AAU team had good intentions. They probably thought they were preparing us for "the next level." But here's what they missed:

We were 13. We should have been learning to compete, not burning out in July.

Volume isn't development. Playing 60 games in three months doesn't make you better. It makes you tired.

Some perspective: The best college players in the world play 70 games in a season if they make the College World Series, then another 30 in summer ball. That's 100 games a year for grown men built for the grind.

I know 10-12 year old programs that play more games than that.

Kids need to practice more and play less.

Kids need to be kids. Summer weekends with your best friends aren't a distraction from baseball. They're what keeps you in the game long enough to get good at it.

The travel ball machine wants you to believe that more is always better. That if your kid isn't playing year-round, they're falling behind.

It's a lie.

I almost became proof of that lie.

This is why I have a strong opinion about 9-12 year old kids playing too much baseball.

I was on one team at 13 and it nearly broke me. The thought of my son playing on multiple teams at this age, like so many kids do today, isn't the path forward.

Nearly 9 out of 10 of these kids won't play high school baseball. Not because they lack talent, but because they burned out before they got there.

Maybe we can change this.

If you're a parent: Listen to your kid. When they tell you they're not having fun, believe them.

If you're a coach: Protect their love for the game. That's your job. Everything else is secondary.

If you're a kid reading this: It's okay to want a break. It's okay to say you're not having fun. That doesn't make you weak.

I went on to play college baseball and was drafted.

None of that happens if my parents hadn't listened to me that weekend in July.

Your kid might be one conversation away from staying in the game or walking away forever.

Which conversation are you having?

Help me keep more kids in the game. If you found this helpful, please forward it to another parent or coach.

Thanks for being here. See you next week Inside the Dugout.

-Coach Steve-

Steve Holmes
Founder, Inside the Dugout
2006 MLB Draft | All-American | Youth Coach | Dad