Shawn McGill

Before Shawn McGill and I were teammates, we were rivals. We faced off against each other in high school, and by the summer of 2005 we were battery mates on the Newport Gulls, both of us a year away from pro ball. From there his path went further than most: he captained Boston College, got drafted by the Phillies in 2006, and spent eight years grinding through pro ball, including four seasons with the Braves that got him to Triple-A, before crossing over to coach catchers and hitters at the professional level with the Orioles organization.

But the résumé isn't the story. The story is what happened between the lines of it: two releases, four hip surgeries, a lost season, and a Spring Training invite that ended the same way the last one did. Shawn's path is proof that a career can be full of "no's" and still add up to something, and that's exactly the kind of journey I want this newsletter to put in front of parents and players who are competing, staying coachable, and refusing to let go of the game, even when the game lets go of them for a while.

You were a multi-sport standout at South Kingstown — all-state in baseball and soccer, all-city in basketball, team captain across all three sports. How did competing in multiple sports shape you as an athlete?

Playing multiple sports growing up helped me in a lot of ways. I had great coaches who taught me to be a ruthless competitor, and I learned leadership and how to work with different types of teammates. Each sport demanded a different style of training, which forced me to develop my body in ways I never would have if I'd played baseball year-round. Competing against great athletes on the basketball court and soccer field sharpened the skills I brought to the diamond. I was viewed as an "athletic catcher," and that opened a lot of doors. Growing up in Rhode Island, it might have been hard to get noticed in baseball at all if I hadn't played multiple sports, because my athleticism and competitive nature wouldn't have been the same without them.

You played at Boston College. How did that recruiting process happen for you, and what advice would you give to kids and families today who are trying to navigate that path?

My first baseball showcase, after freshman year, did not go well; I'm pretty sure I didn't even show up for day two. The following summer, after catching game one of a doubleheader, I was in right field for game two and threw a runner out at home from deep in the outfield. A Boston College coach happened to be there, and that one play jump-started everything. The summer before senior year I went to some bigger showcases down south and felt far more prepared, which sparked interest from more schools. It's a process, and most New England guys aren't polished early in high school. Keep hitting, live in the weight room, fine-tune your craft, and trust the process, because it's rarely a smooth path, especially in the Northeast.

We grew up playing against each other in high school, then ended up as battery mates on the Newport Gulls in the summer of 2005. What do you remember about that team and that summer?

We had a loaded team that summer, with great players from all over the country, and it's amazing how being surrounded by like-minded teammates makes you step your own game up. Chuck Paiva and Chris Patsos built an elite roster, but they were bigger on character and chemistry than talent alone; they wanted high-energy guys who brought it every day. It was a big summer for both of us; we pushed each other to sharpen our games and lifted each other up. We both hated losing, and we knew anything short of winning it all would've felt like a failure for a group that special. The boys got the job done.

You played eight years of pro ball — Phillies, independent ball, Braves, reaching Triple-A. Most guys don't last that long. What kept you going, and what did that grind teach you about yourself?

My career was an emotional roller coaster, but the lessons it taught me changed my life. The Phillies drafted me in 2006 out of BC, then released me in August 2007 after shoulder surgery cost me the whole season. I rehabbed in Clearwater for seven months, a depressing year, and got cut the moment I was finally healthy again.

That release left me full of doubt, but it also made me realize how much I loved the game, and it pushed me to keep fighting. In 2008 I had no choice but to go to independent ball in Lincoln, Nebraska, my back against the wall. I started in the outfield, moved behind the plate two weeks in, and we won six straight with me catching; I earned the starting job. That season taught me how to grind and stay mentally strong; I had to prove myself all over again. I had a strong year, got named Baseball America's #4 Indy Ball Prospect, and earned a Spring Training invite with the Cubs for 2009. But the adversity wasn't done; I was released again on the last day of that Spring Training. Back to the Lincoln Saltdogs, fighting for survival again, we won the American Association Championship that year, and I played through a torn labrum in my hip (the first of four hip surgeries). That off-season, healing up, I faced the same question again: give up, or keep going?

In 2010 I went back to indy ball healthy, and played the best baseball of my career after a rough start that some great teammates helped me fight through. By midsummer I was an All-Star, and the Atlanta Braves purchased my contract; I'd spend the next four seasons in that organization, reaching Triple-A.

After your playing career ended, you didn't walk away from the game — you jumped right into coaching with the Orioles. What did that experience teach you, and how did seeing the game from the other side of the fence change the way you think about player development?

After eight years in the minors, I was a free agent for the third straight year, planning to re-sign with the Braves, but the phone never rang. My body was beat up, I had a broken foot and wrist surgery ahead of me, and I doubted I'd even be healthy by Spring. That off-season, the Braves' Minor League Pitching Coordinator, Dave Wallace, was named the Orioles' Major League Pitching Coach. "Wally" always liked me as a catcher and respected my work ethic, and he recommended me to Baltimore as a coach. Just like that, my playing career was over and my coaching career began, and it brought my family to Sarasota, Florida, where the Orioles train and where we still live today.

It was a completely different perspective, working exclusively with catchers and as a hitting coach. Sitting in on organizational development meetings is eye-opening; you see how close players really are to advancing a level or going home. The odds aren't in anyone's favor of reaching the big leagues, but perseverance and character go a long way toward sticking around and giving yourself a shot. At that level, the job is keeping it simple and helping players stay out of their own way. The minor leagues can be lonely, and a lot of guys go searching for a "secret sauce," which just leads to paralysis by analysis and lost confidence. The guys who stood out, the ones you fought for in those meetings, were the ones who stayed mentally strong. When they failed, or their teammates failed, you knew they'd keep grinding and bring the toughness every team needs in the clubhouse.

What's the one piece of advice you'd give to a parent who is standing on the sideline watching their kid play right now?

Let them play on gameday. The real preparation happens away from practice, when nobody's watching. Private reps and extra training can help, but if a kid is constantly searching the stands for you after a mistake or a strikeout, they can't perform, and their focus is in the wrong place. Baseball is hard; they will fail a lot. Embrace it. Love it.

A few years ago we ran into each other at a Newport Gulls game with our families. We got talking about coaching our kids, and you said “it's a long road." What did you mean by that, and what do you want parents and coaches to understand about what that actually looks like?

A Colorado Rockies scout told me at 14, "it's never as good as you think it is, and it's never as bad as you think it is"; that's stuck with me ever since. Mentality is everything; success on or off the field requires being ready to bounce back after getting knocked down, and that starts with parents keeping things in perspective at home. Developing kids into high-character people means riding out plenty of up and down days, and keeping them in the right head space with a positive outlook. Anything can happen, so our job is helping them block out the noise and control what they can control.

You're now coaching your own sons. How has that changed the way you think about player development, and what do you want them to take from their time playing for you?

With four kids all playing competitive sports, there's never a dull moment in our house. My wife, Caitlin, was a Division 1 swimmer, and her work ethic and toughness (never stopping, never quitting) kept me going through hard times and set the tone for our family. We keep our kids' development simple: the real work and work ethic get built behind the scenes, failure is coming no matter what, and how you respond to it is what matters. Mental toughness is key. On gameday, the focus is always on energy, effort, body language, and being a great teammate.

Shawn never gave in. Every time the game told him no, he found a way to answer it: outfield to catcher in two weeks with the Saltdogs, a torn labrum he played through, an All-Star year built out of the worst stretch of his career. That's competing. It's why the Orioles trusted him with catchers and hitters after his playing days ended; the same mental toughness he preaches in those organizational meetings is the toughness he brought to the batter's box himself.

Shawn was the definition of a leader. He led by example, played hard every inning, picked his teammates up, and carried himself in a way most guys don't. He was someone I looked up to, someone I trusted as a teammate, knowing he'd do everything he could to help our team win. The ultimate competitor.

Shawn's out of the game professionally now, but that mindset hasn't gone anywhere. He's putting it into raising his own four kids with his wife, Caitlin, and his advice to parents is the same thing I try to hammer home every season: let them play, let them fail, and give them the head space to compete without looking over their shoulder for you in the stands.

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