What They Built
- Lisa Liberatore

- Jun 15
- 3 min read

As our first year with Sluggers comes to a close, I've been thinking about what this experience has meant to our family.
When Dorian joined the team, I expected baseball. What I didn't expect was everything that came with it: the friendships, the road trips, the hotel pools, the post-game meals, and the families who quickly became friends. Over the course of the season, I watched a group of boys become brothers, connected by a game they love and countless hours spent together pursuing a common goal.
What I also didn't expect was how hard it would be.
Travel baseball asks a lot of families. There are early mornings, long drives, weekends away from home, and schedules that often leave everyone exhausted. There are losses, strikeouts, slumps, and moments when confidence takes a hit. Yet along the way, I watched growth happening because of those challenges.
Baseball has a way of teaching lessons that extend far beyond the field. It's a game built on failure. Even the best players strike out. They make mistakes. They have bad games. Then they grab their glove, take the field, and get ready for the next opportunity.
Resilience isn't something you learn by talking about it. It's something you build by living it.
As the season unfolded, I watched Dorian grow—not only as a player, but as a young man. His focus improved. His confidence grew. His love for the game deepened. More importantly, I watched him learn how to be a teammate, how to support others through disappointment, and how to keep showing up even when things didn't go his way.
Much of that growth can be traced back to the coaches.
As parents, there comes a point when our children begin listening to more than just us. They need trusted adults who challenge them, encourage them, hold them accountable, and help them see possibilities in themselves that they may not yet recognize. This season reminded me just how important those relationships are.
The coaches taught baseball, but they modeled something much bigger. Through their time, consistency, patience, and leadership, they created an environment where effort mattered, where kids felt supported, and where character was being developed alongside athletic skill.
This weekend, I watched Riley—who is battling cancer—running around with endless energy, hitting wiffle ball home runs and throwing footballs into the pool. In that moment, I was reminded how quickly these years pass and what a privilege it is to be part of them.
That perspective led me to another realization.
Dorian wasn't the only one growing this season.
I was too.
Somewhere between the long drives, packed weekends, and endless loads of baseball laundry, I found myself learning many of the same lessons the players were learning. To trust the process. To focus on effort rather than outcomes. To stay the course when things get hard. To appreciate that meaningful growth often comes from discomfort.
The coaches may have been mentoring the players, but their example challenged me as well.
As I look back on this first season, what stands out most isn't a particular game, tournament, or statistic. It's the culture that was created and the people who made it possible. What they built wasn't just a baseball team. They built a place where kids belong. Thank you for investing in Dorian—not just as a player, but as a person.




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