The drive to the field is twelve minutes long. For two seasons, coaches used those twelve minutes to drill the lineup, the matchups, the play installed at practice Wednesday. The kid in the back seat heard one thing: Don’t mess this up.

Parents didn’t mean to say that. They said something about footwork on the second batter. The kid heard pressure.

A parent figured out what works in that car, and it’s better than the old way.

What the drive there is for

Three things, in this order. Ground them. Reduce stakes. Hand them their job.

Ground them. Smell that? They cut the grass. Or There’s the bagel place. The one we go to after. You are reminding the kid that the field is a real place in a real life, not the only place in the universe today.

Reduce stakes. If you go 0 for 4 today, we still get pizza. Said flatly, not as a bit. Kids carry the score sheet for you. Lift it off them before the first pitch.

Hand them their job. One sentence. Your job today is to talk to the catcher between innings. Not their job to win. Their job to do one specific thing that takes courage and is fully within their control.

What it sounds like by activity

Soccer, age 8: Your job today is to call for the ball one time in the first half.

Lacrosse, age 11: Your job is to pick one teammate and tell them good play after their next mistake.

Choir, spring concert: Your job is to look at the conductor on the entrance to the second piece.

Theater, opening night: Your job is to find me in the audience for one second during the curtain call.

The pattern is the same. Specificity over praise. Presence over evaluation.

What we skip

We do not review last game. They lived it.

We do not run through the lineup unless the kid asks. The lineup is my job, not theirs. They do not need my input. They need to be ready.

We do not talk about the other team. Most kids inflate the opponent in their head. The job in the car is to shrink the opponent back to size, not give them a backstory.

The drive there is not strategy hour. Strategy hour was Wednesday at practice.

The handoff

When you pull into the lot, end the conversation out loud. OK. We’re here. I’m proud of you no matter what. Then say nothing for the walk to the dugout.

The silence is the work. The kid is now alone with their job. That’s what you wanted. That’s what twelve minutes of driving was for. ��������������������������������������