The Dropped Third-Strike Drill

 

 

Writer’s Note:  This is the second in a two-part series.  This blog is contributed by someone who wishes to remain anonymous.  All names of those in this story have been changed at the author’s request.  Please take the time to read this.  It’s beautifully written — and a wonderful inspiration to kids and adults alike.

 

PART II.

 

If you’re a kid playing baseball, there is nothing that causes more disappointment than striking out.

You walk up to the plate and every eye in the stadium is focused on you.   Regardless of what the statistics indicate about your potential for success, the level of expectation is still high.  When a pitcher gives up a home run, it is certainly a disappointment for him.  But everyone knows that in order to be effective in his role a pitcher must throw strikes.  Pitches in the strike zone are, for the most part, hittable and sometimes they are hit out of the park.

When you’ve struck out however, you have either missed the pitches that were in the strike zone, or swung at pitches that were not.  Sometimes both.  You were given multiple opportunities and you wasted them.  To make matters worse you must now take a long, lonely stroll back to the dugout, which affords you ample opportunity to contemplate your recent failure.

But you are certainly NOT a failure — for in the battle between pitcher and hitter, a significant advantage belongs to the pitcher in almost every case.

It has been said that hitting a round ball with a round bat is the hardest fundamental task in all of sports and yet each time you come up to the plate, you expect to and are expected by others to, hit the ball.

When a player makes an error, he may be given the opportunity to redeem himself on the very next pitch.  A diving catch or a perfect throw results in a stadium full of cheering fans, and the dejection that was felt mere seconds ago has now been drastically reduced if not completely eliminated and replaced by a sense of joy and accomplishment.  Strike out however, and several innings will likely pass before you get another chance to bat.  You will carry that sense of failure with you from the batter’s box to the dugout and when you take your position on the field, that sense of failure will continue to haunt you.  It will likely persist even as you take your next turn at bat.  Striking out can be horrible.  Indeed, the disposition of the entire town was adversely affected — their hopes gone, their dreams crushed — by one single example of missed opportunity when The Mighty Casey struck out.

Every summer there are kids on diamonds all across America striking out.  They walk back to their dugouts with their heads hung low while their parents either sink in their seats trying to hide, or scream at them to keep their eye on the ball, or worse yet, telling them they suck.  Right, as if that beer-bellied dad could hit a 65-mph fastball on the inside corner thrown by a 11 year old from just 45 feet away.

Pick any team, on any summer day, on any diamond in America and I guarantee you’ll see it — unless by some miraculous improbability the team you pick happens to be one that I coach.

When coaching youth sports, I believe that it’s important to be as positive as possible.  Emphasize successes, not failures and look for opportunities to promote success in difficult or disappointing situations.  Give the athlete something specific to focus on improving rather than dwelling on the negative result.

“That was a great swing, but I’d like you to think about keeping that front foot anchored…..You know, next time when you bat you’re going to get a hit and whether that hit is a single or a double depends on whether or not you’ve shifted your weight to that front foot, because that’s where your power comes from.  Got it?”

That kid is not thinking about striking out.  He’s thinking about keeping his left foot firmly planted so he can get a double instead of a single next time.  And if you think striking out is disappointing for a boy, try coaching girls.  Half the dads have to be dragged to the game because “girls can’t play baseball.”  That’s an amazingly sad and ignorant attitude because even if that beer-bellied dad could somehow manage to hit the 65-mph fastball from that 11-year-old male pitcher mentioned earlier, I promise you there is no way he’s going to hit a 55-mph rise ball thrown by an 11-year-old girl from 35-feet away.  Not when the first pitch looks like it’s coming in waist high over the middle of the plate and ends up just inches below his chin.  Macho, superstar dad most likely won’t even have the courage to stand in the batter’s box for three pitches, let alone try to hit just one.

At the time my team consisted of 11- and 12-year-old girls playing fast-pitch softball.  That’s what the game is officially called, “fast-pitch softball.”  But I make it a point to always refer to it either as “baseball” (even though it’s a much, much harder sport than baseball) or simply as “fast pitch” because I can assure you that there is absolutely nothing about that ball that is soft.  I’ve had impressions of laces on my thigh for weeks after having been drilled by a pitch.  No, softball is a misleading name.  That is certain.

In addition to teaching players via positive reinforcement, I also encourage them to seek and to recognize opportunities even in seemingly negative situations.  If a player is wallowing in sorrow, that player is certainly not focused on finding new opportunities.  In an effort to distract players from the disappointment of striking out, I created a drill to get them to immediately focus on something productive.  My players are always taught to always look for something else to do when things go wrong.

Thus, the Dropped Third Strike Drill was born.

Just because a player strike out does not mean that player is out.  In the major leagues, a dropped third strike is a rare occurrence and reaching first base as a result is an even rarer one, but a dropped third strike is not a rare case for a girls recreational team.

Players on my team had been striking out like it was going out of style, and the negative attitude that resulted from this was pervasive.  So, in our drill the girls were instructed to IMMEDIATELY drop the bat and run to first base whenever they heard the words, “STRIKE THREE.”  That’s it.  That’s the drill.  Oh, and they were not allowed to swing the bat.  It’s more than simply a drill for the batter though, as all fielding positions were occupied, and the pitcher and catcher got plenty of work.  To keep it interesting for the fielders, while waiting for the next batter, a ball was hit to a random fielder.

“Strike one…Strike two…Strike three” and the first batter seized the opportunity to run to first.  The catcher actually had missed the ball (as 11-year-old catchers sometimes do) and it had rolled to the backstop.  The batter was allowed to remain at first base.

Batters were instructed to look at the first base coach as they ran to first — what a novel idea, players looking a coaches, another nice byproduct of this drill — and, if the catcher caught the ball, the coach held up two outstretched arms with palms forward indicating to the batter that she was out.  She could slow down, but was still expected to touch first base.  That’s another thing — every time one of my players batted, she was expected to touch first base.  I once had a player hit a line drive to the pitcher with two outs.  The pitcher caught the ball a split second after it left the bat and even though most of the opposing team was running off of the field before my player got three steps out of the box, she still ran to first base.

Player after player went through the drill until it was Kathy’s turn to bat.

“Strike one,” I yelled after the first pitch.

“Strike two,” I yelled after the second.

“STRIKE THREE,” I yelled after the third.

Nothing.  Not even a flinch from her.

“Kathy, why didn’t you run?” I asked.

“You’re kidding, right?” she questioned.”  That pitch was a FOOT over my head!”

“So, let me understand.  During our next game when the umpire calls ‘STRIKE THREE’ and YOU think the pitch was a ball, you’re going to take that opportunity to engage the umpire in a debate about his powers of observation?”

She cracked a half-smile and shook her head while her teammates chuckled.

“Okay then.  Get back in there and we’ll start all over.  You’ll get one more chance to help out your team.  Be focused and hustle!”

“No balls, no strikes,” I said.

“Strike one,” I yelled as the first pitch skidded along the ground, across the plate, obviously a ball.  Kathy stepped out of the box, took a practice swing and shot me a look that could cut through steel.

“No balls and one strike,” I yelled as she got back in the box.

The next pitch came in right down the middle.  “STRIKE THREE,” I screamed and in less than the blink of an eye Kathy had dropped her bat and was on her way to first.  After she had reached first, I called the players in from the field.

“THAT is exactly the effort and focus that I am looking for,” I said.  “That’s what being a team player and a leader is all about.”

“Coach,” Kathy said.  “You know that was only strike two, right?”

“Exactly, Kathy and that’s the point. You were so focused on doing the right thing and finding that opportunity to make the best play that you could, you didn’t allow your mind to let in anything negative,” I explained.

Flash forward to our next game and this time Amy strikes out.  It was a wicked fastball and you could hear the smack of the ball hitting the catcher’s mitt.

“STRIKE THREE.  BATTER’S OUT!” yells the umpire.  Amy immediately sprints to first base.  The catcher hesitates as she sees Amy running to first base.  The catcher then panics and throws the ball wildly to first.  It could just as well have been a perfect throw, but it wouldn’t have mattered as the first baseman had already abandoned the base and begun her journey to the dugout.  The ball ended up in right field and Amy seized the opportunity to run to second.  The right fielder grabbed the ball and threw it to second, but Amy beat the throw.

Every player on the field froze.  The umpire froze.  No one said a word, except of course for a dugout full of girls cheering for Amy.  I’m not even sure the umpire knew what to do.

I was coaching third base, and I threw up my hands to ask for time even though there was no need.  I jogged over to second base and told Amy that she was out because the catcher had caught the ball.

“Yeah, but if she had dropped it, I’d be on second base!” Amy said.

“Yup.  Good hustle,” I said.  Amy sprinted to the dugout, grabbed her glove and ran onto the field.

“That’s quite a spirited player you’ve got there,” the umpire told me in between innings.

“Team,” I said.

“Huh?” asked the ump.

“Team.  Spirited TEAM.  All of my players will be hustling like that,” I said.

At the conclusion of the season, at least one manager approached the league board and requested that the dropped third-strike rule be removed.  Apparently, my girls had reached first on dropped third strikes roughly 50 times more than any other team.  When my opinion was asked I said that the rule was in effect in the leagues of all of the surrounding communities and that our players would be at a disadvantage when the reached the 13-14 year old level and had to compete against teams from other towns.  Besides, my catchers weren’t any better than any other team’s catchers, so any reported “unfair advantage” my team had was a result of my players deciding that it was more productive to hustle than it was to pout about striking out.

To my knowledge, the rule remains in effect to this day.

12 years have passed since that season, and those girls are now adults in their early 20’s.

I would like to think that when one of my former players finds herself in a life situation where she strikes out and puts her head down, it is not a result of being  discouraged but rather it is because she is about to give it her all in a sprint down to first base.  And who knows, if given the opportunity, she might just end up on second.

— by Anonymous