I signed up to coach because nobody else raised their hand. Turns out herding twelve five-year-olds is its own kind of cardio.
When the league email said they still needed a coach, I made the classic mistake of replying before thinking. Three weeks later I was standing on a field trying to explain to a five-year-old why you run to first base and not directly at the pitcher.
Keep it moving
The single biggest thing I learned: attention spans are measured in seconds. Long explanations are useless. Short drills, lots of reps, constant motion. The second a kid is standing still, you've lost them to the dandelions.
Praise effort, not outcome. Half of them couldn't hit the ball off the tee on the first try. All of them lit up when I told them their swing looked strong. You're not building a lineup, you're building kids who want to come back next week.
Recruit a parent helper
One adult cannot watch twelve five-year-olds near anything. Grab a parent. Give them a job. Your sanity depends on it.
By the last game I knew every kid's name, their favorite snack, and which one would inevitably need a bathroom break the moment it was their turn at bat. Best Tuesday and Thursday evenings I've had in years.
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