It was sunset on a heatwave Monday, and my kids were on a local diving board. The hour was close to bedtime, and their stomachs were still empty as dinner sat unmade in the refrigerator two miles across town.
“Just one more dive!” my oldest shouted as she jumped into a back dive.
“Make that two!” yelled my son, twisting into a flip.
“Time for a penguin dive,” the youngest said as she leaped into her signature summer jump, a headfirst dive.
In the end, we gave them ten more minutes, and I videoed all their attempts—my son’s new flip dive, his try at a pike. It was a scene we’ve lived many nights this summer: staying out too late, eating way too many easy-to-prepare meals as the fireflies begin to flicker, our towels damp and heavy, our hearts full.
And yet, in the midst of our throwback summer, a distant cloud has hung on the horizon. The truth is that on numerous baseball diamonds across our county, my son’s friends have been playing baseball daily—improving skills, gaining knowledge, and fostering friendships—without him.
We decided last spring when tryouts were announced for the local All-Star team. Our son, then in second grade, had recently developed an interest in the sport and was showing promise. School nights were spent sneaking extra innings of Yankees games on TV after evenings of batting practice with Dad.
When I first saw the email, I figured we’d sign him up for tryouts. We have always been big proponents of youth sports, and my son loved baseball. If he made the team, it would be a great experience. If he didn’t, trying out would make him stronger. It seemed an easy decision.
Except that the commitment was five days a week, with games that spanned towns. My husband, a former college pitcher, feared the experience would wear out a new baseball player.
“Let’s wait another year until we’re sure he wants to do it,” he said. “I don’t want him to overdo it too young.”
I agreed with this sentiment, especially since our son was not yet eight years old. Even our oldest daughter, a competitive gymnast who trains daily, didn’t join the team until third grade, back when it was a smaller commitment than baseball. And that decision was driven solely by her internal desire, not by what everyone else was doing in town.
So we skipped the tryouts and signed my son up for his usual summer activities – sailing camp, tennis lessons, and swim team. As the summer progressed, we watched our son excel in these sports. He sailed a small Optimist sailboat in his first regatta. He improved his tennis rallies. In the pool he found success in the breaststroke, winning his age group in multiple swim meets.
Summer gave my son time to try new skills, make new friends, and succeed in areas he couldn’t experience during the school year. It was a gift I was so grateful we could give him.
Yet, as the social media posts of baseball wins and team camaraderie grew, I couldn’t help but wonder if we were doing our son a disservice by keeping him out of a travel baseball program. Was he going to fall too far behind in his skill development? Would he miss out on critical team-building moments? Concerned, we enrolled him in our little league’s recreational league, allowing him to play when time allowed. We also began researching fall travel leagues and soon found ourselves overwhelmed.
Everyone had an opinion on the best program, practice schedules, and coaching styles. And each travel league came not only with a busy schedule but a hefty price tag to match. So we again sat down with our son and asked him how he wanted to spend his fall. While he mentioned baseball, he also wanted to pursue other sports he loved, like football. Adding a travel team would make playing multiple sports complicated.
Did our son need to give up other interests at eight years old? Was it healthy to specialize in a sport like baseball at such a young age? Or to stress him out with an overpacked schedule just to fit everything in?
Again, I thought of my daughter’s experiences with travel sports—the intense practices and injuries, the jam-packed calendar that sends us state-hopping all winter long, and all her sacrifices—the missed play dates, summer camps, and after-school events.
The cost of travel sports is much higher than just the price tag.
Of course, the rewards can be too. My daughter lives for gymnastics and willingly makes the sacrifices necessary to succeed. And I know that self-discipline, teamwork, and perseverance will carry her through high school and beyond. For the committed athlete, travel sports can be a big win.
However, as parents, it is our job to guide our children through these tough decisions, and our son wasn’t begging to join the team. So we told him – if he wasn’t dying to play, it wasn’t time to try out.
This fall, we are once again saying “no” to travel baseball, choosing local sports programs instead.
While I know he may ask to join a travel team one day, for now, we are all happy with the decision. My husband is happy we aren’t burning him out too young. My son is happy he can continue pursuing other interests he loves. And I am happy we are listening to him instead of giving in to the pressure of those around us.
I want my kids never to forget that there are many paths to success and that it’s okay to pave your own. For our son, this means exploring every trail that excites him. As he does, we’ll be here on the sidelines, guiding, advising, and encouraging him to chase his big dreams—whether they lead to the baseball diamond, football field, or somewhere not yet explored.
