Your kid is watching you. Every game. Every at-bat. Every inning.

They see how you react to a bad call. They hear what you say about the umpire. They watch how you talk to (or about) their coach. They see your reaction when they strikeout.

And they learn more from watching you than from anything you tell them.

That called strike three was ball four. You're right. I saw it too. Everyone did.

You know what your kids saw? Your reaction.

I’ve got squeezed on too many calls in my career that weren't even close. Do you know what arguing did for me? Made the strike zone tighter. Made the next pitch even harder to get.

Arguing a call from the stands has never changed a call. Trust me, it's not easy to back off and keep quiet, especially when it impacts your kid (I can be guilty of this too). But it’s something I try to be aware of because I know my kids are watching me.

When you scream at the umpire, here's what your kid internalizes:

After a bad call, watch what your kid does. Do they look at you for validation to complain? Or do they get back in the box ready to compete?

That's on you.

Here's what you can say after the game: "That strike three was outside. Everyone knew it. But what matters is how you respond. Will you still compete when things don’t go your way?"

That's a life lesson. That's what baseball is supposed to teach.

You signed your kid up for this team. You knew who the coach was. So why are you second-guessing him now?

If your kid isn't playing as much as you think they should, there's a reason. Coaches see practice. They see effort. They see attitude. They see how they interact with their teammates.

They see things you don't.

Red flags that you're undermining the coach:

You're teaching them that authority is negotiable and that their parent knows better than the person in charge.

That doesn't end well. Not in baseball. Not in life.

Your kid went 0-for-3 today. Struck out twice. Looked completely lost.

You're already thinking about hitting lessons. Maybe a new bat. Maybe the coach isn't developing them right.

Stop.

One bad game doesn't mean anything. One bad week doesn't mean anything. It’s part of the game, it’s part of the process.

Baseball is hard.

Friendly reminder, your 10-year-old is going to fail, a lot.

But here's what kills development: parents who panic at the first sign of struggle.

The struggles are where the growth happens.

When your kid is crushing it, they're not learning much. When they're struggling? That's when they're figuring out how to compete, how to handle failure, how to keep showing up when things are hard.

Every great player has been exactly where your kid is right now. The difference? Their parents didn't panic. They didn't try to fix everything. They didn't make every struggle feel like a crisis.

Your kid doesn't need you to solve every struggle. They need you to be patient while they figure it out.

The car ride home after a tough game should be the easiest part of their day, not the hardest.

This is the hardest one for parents.

Your kid has talent. You can see it. The coach can see it. But they're not putting in the extra work. They're not grinding in the offseason like everyone else.

And you're frustrated. Because you know what they're capable of.

You cannot control their “want”.

The drive has to come from them. Hunger can't be manufactured.

Kids find "it" at different ages. Or they don't. And that's fine.

The 12-year-old doing extra swings before school? They've got it, at least for now.

The kid just going through the motions at 13 but suddenly obsessed at 16? They found it on their own timeline.

The kid who enjoys playing and learns the lessons but never wants to grind in the offseason? They're perfectly fine. Not everyone will play varsity or college ball.

The drive to be great doesn't follow a schedule. It shows up on its own timeline, not yours. Or it doesn't show up at all.

My kids are 12 and 10. Just like you with your own kids, I see potential.

I know what it takes to get to the next level, and I have to remind myself every day that there is no need to rush their development.

It's their story, not mine.

Being patient is so important for us parents right now. Maybe the most important thing.

We want what's best for our kids. Our job is to encourage them, be real with them, and set them up for success.

But that success? It doesn't happen at 12 years old. It happens over time.

And time requires patience.

Baseball is temporary. Your kid will play for a few years, maybe a few more if they're good. Then it ends.

But the character you're helping them build right now? That's permanent.

I was a part of the less than 1% of high school and college players drafted by Major League Baseball, and almost everyone has never heard of me. Baseball ended and when it did, nobody cared about my game anymore.

What mattered was whether I showed up on time, treated people with respect, handled failure well, and kept competing when things got hard.

Sports are about raising good people.

Kids who can handle failure, show up, and treat people with respect. The stuff that actually matters after baseball ends.

When baseball ended for me, it was a tough time. I was no longer the guy people asked "How's your arm?" Those questions just stopped.

I had to come to peace with never playing baseball again, a game my entire life had been built around.

Once I did, I knew that in order to be successful in my next chapter, I had to take everything I learned: the work ethic, the discipline, the sacrifice, and apply it to whatever came next.

Without the life lessons I learned through baseball, I don't know what type of person I'd be today.

That's what sports gave me. Not a career. Not fame. But a foundation.

Sports are the vehicle. Character is the destination.

And when the game ends, and it will end for everyone eventually, those lessons are what remain.

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