Signed Balls and Strikeouts: A Lesson in Resilience From the Dugout

My son struck out during his first at-bat in the All-Stars game. He doesn’t strike out often—his batting average is pretty unbelievable. But this time, he did.

And you know what I did? I walked over to the dugout and told him I was proud of him.

Not because he almost made contact. Not because he tried hard. But because he showed up, gave it everything he had, and handled the moment with a kind of quiet strength that most adults still struggle to master.

That’s when it hit me: this is what resilience looks like.

We talk a lot about raising resilient kids. Why do some fall apart after a loss while others—like D—just take a breath, reset, and move forward?

The truth is, resilience isn’t about brushing off hard moments. It’s about knowing your worth isn’t tied to the scoreboard. It’s the confidence to strike out, walk back to the dugout, and still feel proud.

I’ve seen D take wins and losses in stride. Cheer for teammates from the bench. Stay humble when things go right, and steady when they don’t. A lot of that is just who he is. But I also think it’s because he knows he’s loved—win or lose, hit or miss.

That strikeout could’ve ruined his night. But instead, he stayed focused. And in his final at-bat? He hit a home run!

The best part? After the game, friends from the other team came over to chat with him. And D walked right up to the pitcher—the one who threw that final ball—and asked him to sign it.

Not in a “ha, I crushed it” kind of way. In a “this moment mattered—and I respect you” kind of way.

Because that’s what I’ve always told him: Respect the game. Respect each other.

You need the other team to have a game. Competition is a gift. But sportsmanship—that’s the legacy.

Resilience doesn’t mean burying your feelings. It means honoring the hard moments, and still showing up with heart. It’s built over time—dugout by dugout, handshake by handshake.

So here’s to the strikeouts. The home runs.The kids who keep showing up, and the ones who cheer for each other no matter what.

Because this game isn’t about winning or losing—it’s about who you become in the process.

If you’re reading this, here’s your reminder: Tell your kid you’re proud of them—not just for the wins, but for who they are on and off the field. Be their biggest cheerleader. It doesn’t take money. Just your time. Your presence. Your voice in the stands.

(Though if you ask my fiancé, who also coaches, he’ll tell you that having the best gear doesn’t hurt either. 😅)

But truly—it’s your love that sticks with them long after the last pitch is thrown.