Seven Strikes, Three Hits, One Lesson

That means the best players in the world fail seven out of ten times. And they keep going.

I’ve written before about how we learn more from failure than from success, but I keep coming back to it. It’s been over a year since I last touched this topic, and yet it feels like a drumbeat in the background of so many parts of life. But first if you know you wanted to see a cute picture of my daughter and maybe even read that earlier article on failure?

When the Game Gets Real

This past weekend, failure showed up again—in the form of a 7U baseball game.

My son Cole played his first game of the season. He got out the first two at bats. And when he came out to the outfield, his eyes were full of tears. "Dad, I got out both times. I didn’t get a hit. I didn’t get on base."

He was completely heartbroken.

How do you comfort your kid when you know exactly how he feels—but also know that he needs to go through it, not around it?

Cole is bright and curious, fast to answer questions most seven-year-olds wouldn’t even know to ask. He’s had glasses since he was four, talks in nerdy facts, and surprises us almost daily with something he’s learned or observed. But when things don’t come easy to him, when he can’t figure something out quickly or succeed right away, it hits him hard. He can crumble into frustration, overwhelm, even despair.

It’s a tough thing to witness as a parent—especially when you see so much of yourself in that struggle.

His older sister Scarlett handles failure so differently. It rolls off her. She just keeps pushing. She has that same stubbornness I know well—maybe because she got it from me. But Cole? He’s wired differently. And helping him through moments like this baseball game has me questioning how best to guide him as it's something we run into daily. He also doesn’t respond well to my typical tough love approach.

“Son you have to make a choice right now to let it go and keep fighting.”

The Teachings of Baseball

What do you say when someone you love is coming face to face with failure—and isn’t ready for it yet?

It reminded me of how baseball, more than almost any other sport, teaches failure. When you're just starting out in tee ball, everything’s easy. Everyone gets on base. If you can’t hit the ball, they literally put it on a tee until you do.

But as you move up levels, the game gets harder. Pitchers pitch. Fielders field. Hits get rare. Outs pile up.

Even the best kids in 8U or 10U baseball might only get on base 75% of the time. In high school, a .500 hitter is exceptional. In college, .400 is elite. By the time you get to the pros? Well, as Ted Williams once said:

"Baseball is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of ten and be considered a good performer."

That means the best players in the world fail seven out of ten times. And they keep going.

It's humbling. And maybe that’s why it resonates so much right now—as I try to explain to Cole that getting out doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It just means you're learning. That no one always succeeds. That trying again is part of the game.

One Swing Can Change Everything

And wouldn’t you know it—his third at bat, Cole stepped back into the box. And this time, he hit a double. He ended up coming around to score, dancing his whole way back to the dugout.

It was pure joy.

The kind of moment that reminds you failure isn’t the whole story. It’s just part of it.

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Still Learning, Still Asking

And still... I’m struggling.

I’m struggling to get him to see the long view. I’m struggling to balance my role as encourager and teacher, protector and realist. I don’t want to crush his spirit. But I also don’t want to lie to him about how life works.

Because baseball is just a mirror. Life gets tougher and tougher. And the better you get at absorbing the blows, the better chance you have at bouncing back.

I’m sharing this partly to remind myself of that. And partly to ask—if you’ve been here, if you’ve had a child who responds to failure with intensity and emotion—what helped? How did you guide them without dulling their shine? How do you help someone reframe failure as part of the path rather than the end of the road?

I know Cole will figure it out. He’s got a brilliant little mind, and he’s got a family that’s cheering him on every step of the way. But right now, we’re in the middle of it. And I’d love any wisdom you’re willing to share.

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So that’s this week’s Five4Friday. Just one story. One lesson. One honest request for help from one parent to another.

Thanks for reading—and if this resonated, drop me a line. I’d love to hear your thoughts.