I still remember my first practice. Twelve kids standing around, parents watching from the bleachers, and me holding a clipboard wondering what the hell happens next. I had played the sport, sure, but coaching? That's different. You're suddenly responsible for everything—the drills, the culture, who's upset because they're not starting, why someone's parent is texting you at 9 PM.

If you're reading this, you're probably in that same spot. Maybe you volunteered because nobody else would. Maybe your kid's on the team. Maybe you're taking over mid-season and have no idea what the last coach was doing. I've been there. Here's what I wish someone had told me before that first whistle.

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Week One Sets Everything

I made a mistake early: I assumed the kids would just know how things worked. They didn't. Neither did the parents. By week three I was spending half of practice re-explaining rules and dealing with kids who thought "be on time" was a suggestion.

Start clean. Before your first real practice, meet with parents and players together. Ten minutes. Tell them what you care about—mine was effort, punctuality, and treating teammates well. Tell them what practice looks like. Tell parents their job is to drop off, pick up, and trust you while their kid is on the field. Not coach from the bleachers. Not text you about playing time at midnight.

Then stick to it. The first time a kid shows up late, address it. The first time a parent crosses a line, address it. Ignoring problems doesn't make them go away—it makes them permanent.

Also: set a practice structure and keep it. Warm-up, skill work, drills, scrimmage, cool-down. Same order every time. Kids thrive on routine. So do you. When everyone knows what's happening next, you're coaching instead of managing chaos.

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The First Few Weeks Look Different

Your first two weeks aren't normal practice weeks. They're assessment and ramp-up. This is especially true if you've got mixed skill levels—some kids who've never played and some with travel ball experience.

Start slower than you think you need to. I learned this after watching a kid get drilled in the face during week one because I jumped straight to full-speed batting practice. Half-speed drills for the first week, three-quarter speed for week two, then game speed. Less experienced players get a chance to acclimate. Everyone stays safer.

Use this time to figure out who knows what. You'll have kids who can't catch and kids who think they're too good for catching drills. Both need fundamentals, just for different reasons. The beginners need to learn. The experienced players need to prove they actually know it—because sometimes they don't.

When skilled players complain about "basic" drills, I tell them to show everyone how it's done. Lead by example. If they can't execute it perfectly, they need the reps too. If they can, they just became a teaching assistant.

Also: the first few weeks are when you spot the safety issues. Bad throwing mechanics. Kids who don't know how to fall. Players who crowd too close during drills. Fix these immediately. Injuries kill team culture faster than anything.

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Fundamentals Win Over Fancy Plays

My second season I got ambitious. I designed these elaborate multi-step drills because I thought that's what good coaches did. The kids couldn't execute them. We spent more time explaining than practicing. Games were a mess.

Year three I went back to basics. Throwing and catching. Footwork. Body position. The boring stuff. We did the same five drills every week until they didn't have to think about it anymore. Then the kids could play the game instead of remembering instructions.

Start every practice the same way. Warm-up isn't just stretching—it's your chance to groove fundamental movements. Throwing mechanics. Proper stance. Whatever the basic building blocks are for your sport. Five minutes of focused reps beats an hour of complex drills nobody can do.

I use a mantra with my players: "Slow is smooth, smooth is fast." When they rush through footwork or try to throw hard before they throw correctly, everything falls apart. Master the movement slowly, let it become smooth, then speed comes naturally. This works for everything—hitting, throwing, defensive positioning.

And don't assume kids know this stuff because they're 12 or 14 or whatever. I've seen high schoolers who couldn't throw properly. Injuries happen because fundamentals are weak. Bad mechanics aren't just ineffective—they're dangerous. Assess where they are, fix the mechanics, then build speed.

Once they have the basics locked in, then you can layer on the sport-specific stuff. But skip the basics and nothing else works.

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Keep Them Moving

Kids get bored standing around. You lose them. They start goofing off, stop paying attention, and now you're managing behavior instead of teaching skills.

I learned this the hard way during batting practice. I'd have one kid hitting while eleven others waited. By the third rotation, half the team was lying in the grass talking about video games. Not ideal.

So I changed it: stations. One group hitting, one group running bases, one group doing fielding drills. Rotate every seven minutes. Suddenly everyone was engaged because they were doing something.

Keep groups small when you split them up. If you have twelve kids and three stations, that's four per station—way better than twelve kids in one line. The less time they spend waiting for a turn, the more they learn and the less you fight for their attention.

Competitive elements help too. "Which group can finish cleanest?" "Fastest relay wins." Not everything needs a winner, but a little competition sharpens focus.

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Practice Like You Play

Drills are great until game day comes and your players freeze because nothing looks like practice. I spent weeks drilling perfect form in isolation, then threw them into a game and wondered why they couldn't execute under pressure.

You need game speed. You need decisions. You need situations.

Reserve part of every practice for scrimmage or scenario work. Last two minutes of a close game. Down by one. Two outs. Whatever pressure situation fits your sport. Let them feel what it's like to perform when it matters.

Also, tie drills back to what you saw in the last game. If your team struggled with passing under pressure, design a drill around that. Then run it in a scrimmage so they see the connection. "Remember this drill? This is why."

And keep some fun in it. Once a week, let the kids pick the final drill or run a mini-tournament. If practice feels like a grind every single time, they'll stop caring. The goal is to build a love for the game, not kill it.

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Talk to People Like They're People

My first big parent conflict happened because I didn't communicate early enough. A kid wasn't starting and the parent assumed I had it out for their son. I didn't—the kid just wasn't ready yet. But because I never explained my decisions, the parent filled in the blanks with the worst possible story.

I learned: be clear, be calm, be consistent.

Parents need to know upfront how you make decisions. Playing time, positions, who starts—explain your process at that first meeting. Then when it happens, it's not a surprise.

Stay accessible. I tell parents they can reach out anytime, but after practice or by text—not during. If a player has concerns, same thing. Set boundaries but be available within them.

When problems come up—and they will—address them early. One-on-one conversation beats letting resentment build for three weeks. Talk to the player if it's a behavior issue. Talk to the parent if it's a communication issue. Do it calmly and quickly.

And give players some ownership. Let them lead warm-ups. Let them pick a drill. Let them call out each other during scrimmages. The more they're invested in the team culture, the less you have to enforce it.

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Progress Over Wins

Your first season, you're probably not winning a championship. That's fine. If you focus only on the scoreboard, you'll miss what's happening with your team.

I set goals that weren't about winning: "Make the right decision 70% of the time." "Communicate every play." "Hustle on every out." Stuff we could control.

After games, I'd talk with the players about what we did well and what we'd work on. Never just "we lost" or "we won." Always "here's what we did, here's where we're going."

And I celebrated effort publicly. "Best hustle" got recognized same as "game-winning play." Smart decisions got called out. Good communication got praised. When players see that you value those things, they start valuing them too.

Keep fun as the anchor. If kids dread practice or games, all the development in the world won't matter because they'll quit. Some days you just need to play a goofy relay race and laugh. That's fine. That's part of it.

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Structure Your Practices (But Stay Flexible)

Here's the template I use for a 90-minute practice. Adjust for your time and sport, but the flow works:

Warm-up (10-15 min): Dynamic movement, basic throwing/catching, activation drills.

Core Skills (15-20 min): Fundamental drills tied to what we need to improve this week. Usually the same few drills until they're automatic.

Focused Work (20-25 min): Split into stations or groups. Specific skill work or game situations.

Live Scrimmage (15-20 min): Game-speed work, scenarios, competition. Let them play.

Cool-Down (10 min): Something fun, a team challenge, or a quick reflection on what we learned.

Wrap-Up (5 min): Review the day. Preview next practice. Homework if it fits (film study, solo skill work, whatever).

I write the plan before practice, but I stay ready to change it. If it's 95 degrees out, we're cutting stuff short and hydrating. If a drill isn't working, we're moving on. Rigid plans break when they hit real kids in real conditions.

And I keep backup drills ready. Some days you planned 20 minutes on something and the kids get it in 8. Better to have another drill ready than to stand there figuring out what to do next.

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Build Leaders, Not Just Players

The goal isn't to create kids who follow orders. It's to create kids who can think, lead, and solve problems when you're not there.

I rotate roles through the season. Warm-up leader one week, drill assistant the next, team captain on game day. Everyone gets a turn. They take it seriously because it matters.

Once a month I sit with the team and ask them what's working and what's not. "How are we as a team? What can we do better?" Sometimes they see things I miss. And when they have a voice in how the team runs, they own it more.

I also let stronger players help coach others. It reinforces their own skills and builds the team dynamic. Just make sure it's constructive, not bossy.

And normalize mistakes. I talk about them openly. "What went wrong? What will we do next time?" When kids see that mistakes are just information, they stop being afraid of them and start learning from them.

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You'll Figure It Out

Your first season is going to be messy. You'll plan a practice that falls apart. You'll say the wrong thing to a parent. You'll forget to bring the cones or the balls or your clipboard. That's fine. You're learning too.

The kids don't need you to be perfect. They need you to show up, care about them, and create an environment where they can grow. If you do that—if you set clear culture, drill fundamentals, keep practice engaging, communicate well, and focus on growth—you'll be a better coach than most.

Get your structure in place. Be consistent. Stay calm. And remember: you're not just teaching a sport. You're shaping how these kids see themselves, their teammates, and what it means to work toward something hard. That's bigger than any win-loss record.

Now go coach.