My dad coached my brother’s baseball team for 6 long years. My brother was, quite simply, terrible. He couldn’t hit to save his life, and he couldn’t catch a ball if it landed in his glove. Every game was painful to watch, and I know the other parents felt it, too.
Eventually, they had enough. Several parents approached my dad and requested my brother be benched. But my dad refused. It wasn’t a matter of favoritism—he always batted my brother last and played him in the outfield, away from the action. But he would not pull him.
After the final season ended, I asked my dad why he never benched him despite the pressure. He looked at me and said, “20 years from now nobody will remember the score. But your brother will remember whether his father let him play.”
He coached a losing team for 6 years because one kid on the roster was his son, and quitting wasn’t something he was willing to teach from the dugout. He understood that the lesson was bigger than the game.
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