Every player remembers their first real catch. That magical moment when the ball smacks into their glove, and for the first time, it all clicks. For one kid I coached, that moment came with so much excitement that he froze like a statue in the outfield, holding the ball up like a trophy. The entire team erupted in cheers, and I swear his grin was visible from the parking lot.
But the first catch isn’t just about snagging a ball—it’s about what it unlocks. Confidence. Pride. And maybe, just maybe, a little swagger. It’s about realizing, “Hey, I can do this.” It’s those little moments that snowball into bigger wins.
This doesn’t just apply to a first catch, either. Every game is like a miniature version of life, with its own “firsts” that set the tone. The first out—a clean grounder scooped up and thrown to first—can shift the energy for the whole team. The first hit—a sharp liner past the infield—can ignite a rally and build a player’s confidence at the plate. These firsts carry weight because they have a ripple effect. When one thing clicks, everything else seems just a little easier.
And this isn’t just for young tee-ballers getting their first hit or catch. It applies just as much to Majors or Juniors players stepping up to a higher level of play. A kid making their first diving catch in center field, connecting for their first double off a live pitcher throwing 60 mph, or executing a perfect relay throw to home for the first time feels that same spark. Those “firsts” don’t stop—they just grow with the game.
As Stuckweed sings in Elmo in Grouchland’s Take the First Step:
“Take the first step, and soon you will see
Just how brave your heart can be.”
To my kids: I know, I know—dad referencing an Elmo song again. I’m sorry, but I have nothing but the fondest memories of these songs that were drilled into my head when you were young. Trust me, you’ll understand when you’re parents someday.
The beauty of these “firsts” is that they’re often unpolished. The first catch might be a wobbly fly ball that lands more in the crook of their arm than in the webbing of the glove. The first hit could be a slow dribbler that somehow finds its way past the pitcher. And the first good play in the field? Maybe it’s an awkward toss to second base that just beats the runner. None of these moments are perfect—but they don’t have to be.
As a coach, I’ve seen how these firsts transform players. One season, I watched a shy kid fumble every practice throw until, in our first game, he snagged a grounder and made the out at first. The dugout exploded in cheers, and that play changed everything. He played the rest of the game like he’d been doing it for years. That’s the power of a first: it builds belief—not just in the game, but in themselves.
Whether you’re a coach or a parent, you can set kids up for success with their first “big” moment. Here’s how:
A baseball game is a lot like life in miniature. It’s full of ups and downs, victories and mistakes. The first catch, the first hit, the first great defensive play—these moments are like the stepping stones of life. They might not seem like much at first, but they set the tone for what comes next.
The first catch isn’t just about learning how to play baseball—it’s about learning how to face challenges, embrace the unknown, and take pride in small victories. The same goes for the first play that turns into an out or the first hit that gets a kid on base. Those firsts create momentum. They’re the little sparks that keep the game—and life—moving forward.
I’ve seen kids transform after their first big moment. The shy ones start to come out of their shells. The nervous ones start to take risks. The kids who doubt themselves realize they’re capable of more than they thought. And the best part? These lessons don’t stay on the field. They carry over into the classroom, friendships, and life.
Parents, your reaction to these moments matters more than the moments themselves. Whether the ball is caught cleanly, the hit is a blooper, or the play is a bit shaky, celebrate it. These firsts aren’t about perfection—they’re about daring to try.
Coaches, this is where we shine. We’re not just teaching them how to play a game; we’re teaching them how to believe in themselves. Cheer loudly, high-five often, and remind them that effort is what counts.
In baseball—and in life—the first step is what starts the journey. That first catch, that first hit, that first great play—they might not make the highlight reel, but they’re the moments that light a spark. They’re the beginning of a player’s confidence, courage, and love for the game.
So here’s to all those firsts. May they be messy, magical, and unforgettable. And here’s to the parents and coaches who make them moments worth remembering.