When my wife Erin told me that she signed me up to coach our daughter Olivia’s t-ball team last spring, an audible “oh no, please no” escaped from my lips. Olivia and her would-be teammates—the Tigers—were 5 years old. Ever coach a team of 5 year olds at anything? No? Envision yourself as a perfectly skilled shepherd completely at peace with yourself and your role and your lot in life. And then imagine someone suddenly swaps out your sheep for baby tiger cubs. Right.
“Now, now,” Erin said, “You owe this to Olivia. She’s watched you coach her siblings for years, and it’s finally her turn. She’s really excited.” So I vowed to suck it up and make the best of this…um…opportunity to herd tiger cubs.
I began the season with one major objective: make these Tigers have so much fun that all 10 would want to continue playing baseball the following year. (Some would consider this goal unambitious, but I would tell them to just chill – they’re 5!)
Out of the gates, I actually tried to teach baseball skills. Silly me. I didn’t want to do that, so why on earth would my Tigers? They were cold and bored and rambunctious. There might have been one future major leaguer among them, but I couldn’t for the life of me determine who it could possibly be.
So I abruptly changed course, and we spent our time together growling like tigers and running relays and playing keep away and growling some more. Before each game, we’d circle up, put our hands in the middle, and growl to intimidate our opponents. And it must’ve worked, because we finished each and every game in a Tiger pile at home plate, after the last batter rounded the bases and we “won” by 1 run in the bottom of the ninth (in our league no one kept score, no one got out, and every player batted every inning). The kids learned very little baseball, but no one other than a couple of the most psycho-competitive parents (whose kids didn’t need to learn much baseball anyway) cared.
After the last game – against the only town team loaded with future major leaguers, and against whom we nevertheless taunted with a Tiger pile at home plate at game’s end – I gathered my Tigers around and delivered some version of the following hammed up (as much for the surrounding parents and myself as the kids), impassioned post-game speech:
Team, we became Tigers this season…each and every one of us. When we first met, I had no idea what kind of baseball team we’d make. But right now, I can’t imagine ever being part of another. In fact, if I know anything at all in this world, I know that I am a Tiger…for Life. And team, this is a tiny little town we live in, so while our season ends today, we will see each other in the years to come. On the ball field. In the grocery store. At school. And each and every time I see you, I’ll growl…not because I’m angry with you, but to remind you that you too are a Tiger for life.
About Sean O'Neil
Sean O’Neil is an expert in workplace and team dynamics. He is also Principal and CEO of One to One Leadership (www.one2oneleadership.com), a sales and management training firm with clients that include the National Basketball Association, Major League Soccer, News Corporation, First Data, ADP, Xerox, the Oakland Raiders and the New York Knicks. Sean and John Kulisek co-authored Bare Knuckle People Management: Creating Success with the Team You Have – Winners, Losers, Misfits and All, which is due to be published in May 2011. Sean has contributed to or been featured in, among others, The New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, Selling Power Magazine and Incentive Magazine. He can also frequently be seen pacing the sidelines of a youth team he’s coaching.
