The Passion Arc

Over the course of two days last week, I had the chance to watch three baseball games in person. I coached my son's team of 7-year-olds, watched a Cincinnati high school baseball playoff game between Moeller (Ken Griffey Jr.'s alma mater) and St. Xavier and caught a Major League game between the Cincinnati Reds and Washington Nationals. The first game was free, the second cost me six bucks and my ticket for the third was $48.

And while I think I know certain things about player attitudes and motivations after nearly 20 years of coaching, the differences I saw in those three games were striking.In the little league game, there was an expected dichotomy among the players. Some spent most of their time playing in the dirt and gazing off into the distance, as 7-year-olds are prone to do. But most had the youthful exuberance and passion for fun that remind us what youth sports should be all about. Sportsmanship abounded among players, coaches (with one minor exception) and parents, who largely understood that the entire goal in organizing the game was to help the kids have fun, appreciate the value in trying their best, understand the importance of respecting authority and live out the ideals of good sportsmanship, win or lose.

The high school game, meanwhile, shined a bright light on the wonderful possibilities of youth sports. The players ran on and off the field in between every inning. They hustled to first base on every batted ball, played hard and fair, and left it all on the field. They played the game with passion and energy and class. The collective behavior of both teams spoke volumes about the influence of Moeller coach Mike Cameron and St. Xavier coach Bill Slinger (both members of the Ohio High School Baseball Coaches Association Hall of Fame) and the other coaches that had a hand in shaping these players over the years. (Unfortunately, the exemplary behavior didn't spill over into the stands. The lowlights: when Xavier's student section begand chanting "sit down, shut up" when Cameron came on the field to respectfully argue an umpire's call, and a frenetic Moeller mom who wildly sprinted to the Xavier cheering section to scold fans that were, presumably, saying mean things.) It was a well-spent six dollars, and an affirmation that youth sports can indeed shape character for the good.

Then there was the professional game. Reds and Nationals in a battle of last place clubs. Players that had reached the pinnacle of athletic excellence, so accomplished in their chosen profession so as to be among the select group of only 750 people on the entire planet to don the uniform of a Major League Baseball team. Players making, on average, more than $2.5 million per season as reward for their athletic prowess. And ticket prices that reflect those high prices and tacitly promise that bearers of said tickets will be treated to a world-class demonstration. Guess what? The great majority of the players didn't run on or off the field between innings. At least a dozen times, batters jogged to first base instead of hustling all the way. At least two players threw temper tantrums in the dugout when things didn't go their way. The passion that many of these players had engendered between T-ball and high school had somehow dissipated between high school and last Thursday night. It's certainly not fair to indict all of the players, but there were far too many of them that were just going through the motions, devoid of passion and energy.

How and when does that happen? Does the passion arc peak in the high school playoffs, before money and contracts distort motivations? Does it peak in college or the minor leagues? No matter the answers, I felt cheated by the handful of players that ruined it for those of us that actually cared about the outcome, about playing hard and fair and leaving it all on the field.

The math is shameful: passion and energy + high school level talent = $6, while world-class talent + nonchalance and apathy = $48.

Instead of demoting players back to the minors to improve performance, let's send them back to high school, so they can remember what real baseball feels like again.