The 6 Travel Ball Coach Types

Runs the organization like a Fortune 500 company. Has a logo. Has a merchandise store. Has a mission statement that includes the word “development” fourteen times. Sends emails with subject lines like “Q2 Tournament Calendar & Organizational Updates.” Has never once gotten dirt on his khakis.

Great at logistics. Mediocre at coaching. But the uniforms look incredible and the team Instagram has 1,200 followers, so nobody complains.

Played college ball in 1994 and coaches exactly the way he was coached. Bunts in every situation. Believes batting practice should hurt. Says “rub some dirt on it” without irony. His practice plans involve running and then more running. Has never heard of launch angle and does not want to.

Kids are either terrified of him or worship him. There is no middle ground. Parents are split 50/50 on whether he's building character or creating therapy patients.

Did not want to coach. Was asked. Said no. Was asked again. Said “maybe for one season.” It has been four seasons. He is in too deep. He watches YouTube coaching videos at midnight. He has a clipboard he bought at Walmart that he is emotionally attached to. He is doing his absolute best and his absolute best is sometimes a C-plus.

Be kind to this coach. He is not getting paid. He is learning on the job. He showed up when nobody else would.

Has a TrackMan. Has a Rapsodo. Has an iPad with three apps open at all times. Knows every player's spin rate, exit velocity, and launch angle. Makes lineup decisions based on a spreadsheet that nobody else has access to. Uses the phrase “expected batting average” when talking to 12-year-olds.

The kids have no idea what he's talking about. The parents Google his terms in the parking lot afterward. He is either the future of youth coaching or he is ruining everyone's Saturday. The jury is out.

You can hear him from three fields away. His coaching philosophy is volume. Louder means better. If the kid makes an error, he yells encouragement at a decibel level that registers as a threat. If the kid gets a hit, he yells celebration at the same decibel level. The umpire has asked him to tone it down twice. He has not toned it down.

His team either wins the tournament or loses in the first round. There is no in-between. His voice is gone by Sunday. He considers this a badge of honor.

Actually knows what they're doing. Has real credentials. Communicates with parents like an adult. Has a practice plan. Makes fair lineup decisions and can explain them. Teaches the game instead of just managing it. Makes your kid better and makes your kid enjoy getting better.

If you find this coach, do not leave. Do not switch teams for a shinier organization. Do not chase a better tournament schedule. The Unicorn is worth more than all of it. You will not realize this until they're gone and your kid is playing for The Screamer.