Remember that time you had to give a big presentation? Or when you walked into the final interview for your dream job? What about when you auditioned for the high school play, won the part, and then had to perform in front of all your family and friends?
I remember moments like those — and how nervous I felt before baseball tryouts, stepping onto the football field before a game, going on a first date, writing my first big story for The Detroit News, speaking to a lecture hall full of college students, or fielding questions live from news anchors knowing tens of thousands of people were watching.
Fear is what links all those moments. I was scared — sometimes terrified — of making a mistake and embarrassing myself. Your son likely feels the same way before a big game or tournament.
The kids who chew through the pressure — who turn fear into fuel — are usually the ones who rise to the occasion. We call them clutch. Is your son clutch? Does he want the ball in his hand when the game’s on the line? The bat in his hands with bases loaded and two outs? Or do those moments make him shrink from the spotlight?
Now flip it: how do you feel when he steps into a pressure cooker? And how might he feel, knowing you’re watching, just a few feet away?
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Think about the moments leading up to those big games — the car ride, the packing, the quiet nights before a tournament, or that walk from the parking lot to the dugout.
With my son Alex, a 12U travel ball player, our routine rarely changes. Right before he rolls his bag away from my truck to find his teammates, I always hug him, kiss him, and say the same thing:
“Go hard and have fun.”
That’s it. That’s our moment.
But in the days leading up to a tournament, there are a lot of other moments that can help or hurt a young player’s mindset.
My advice: less is more.
Alex and his team, CBA Victus San Diego, are heading to Las Vegas this weekend for a 3-day Perfect Game Super NIT tournament — one of the most competitive events in the nation. The 12U Majors division includes 43 teams from across the country, and only the top 16 teams make it to bracket play. Alex has played in out-of-state tournaments before, so he knows the drill, but the nerves always bubble up eventually.
Even though my brother flies in from Chicago for Vegas tournaments and we make it a family trip — staying on the Strip and enjoying the experience with Alex and his twin brother Nicky — we never treat it as bigger or more important than any other weekend. It’s just another tournament in another town.
A year ago in Vegas, Alex tossed a complete game 1-hitter in the championship game, helping his team to a big win and a moment those boys will remember for a long time. Will that happen again this weekend? Doesn’t matter, and I won’t mention it unless I hear him getting down on himself following a rough outing.
Most of our pre-tournament talk is about logistics: packing, homework, boarding the dog. But there are quiet moments — before bed, after practice, or in my truck — when Alex opens the door for baseball talk. And that’s key: let him invite you in.
He might say, “I’m so excited for Vegas, Dad. I’m gonna hit bombs. Well, not bombs — line drives.”
Side Note
If your son’s been trained to hit line drives — especially to the opposite field — that’s his game. (It’s Aaron Judge’s approach, by the way.) Stick with it. Too often, young players abandon their training under pressure. They’ll try to impress someone — a coach, a parent, their friends — and suddenly they’re swinging for the fences or just trying to get on base. Gently remind them: play your game, trust your training, and play for yourself.
When Alex says he’s excited, I tell him, “I’m excited, too. We’re looking forward to watching you play. Remember — don’t focus on the results. Take good swings, make your plays, execute your pitches. Find those same body and mind feelings you have during practice and training. Get after it and have fun. Confidence and joy, bud.”
Sometimes I’ll add: “You’re going to feel nervous, and that’s normal. Allow yourself to feel it — then let it go. You’ve trained for this. You’re built different. Watch your body language. Be a leader.”
When Alex looks at me and says, “I know, Dad. I’ve got this,” there’s nothing better.
We have a rule: no coaching once we leave the driveway, so loading up the truck is fair game for a few quick reminders:
Fielding: Stay low, work through the ball, nose over toes.
Pitching: Stay in the back leg, separate hips and shoulders, make adjustments, be a dog as soon as you step onto that field.
Hitting: Get the body ready, be on time. Focus on your base, not the results. Keep your head down and your barrel in the zone.
His hitting coach often tells him, “It doesn’t matter where you hit in the lineup or what position you play. Let that go. This game’s hard enough. Your job is to get your body ready, be on time, and take good swings. I don’t care if you hit the ball — I want to see good swings.”
When your son steps into the batter’s box, he’s alone. Pitchers have teammates behind them; hitters don’t. The only people back there are the catcher and the umpire — and neither are on his team.
In those moments, your job as a parent is simple: be his parent. Smile, cheer, or stay quiet. Some parents choose silence because they worry anything they say adds pressure. I’m not a quiet dad — but it took me a long time to learn not to coach from the stands.
Now, all I usually say when Alex is stepping into the box:
“Go get it, Alex! Have some fun. Barrel one up.”
His mom’s always been better at this than me. She’ll just say, “Alright, Alllllllllex — you’ve got this!”
Your car’s tires don’t perform well — no matter how expensive — if there’s too much air in them. Too much pressure makes them unstable. The same goes for young players, and for any of us stepping outside our comfort zones. Lower the pressure, increase the odds of success.
Performance anxiety fades when we focus on the process instead of the results. Easier said than done, but possible — especially when we allow ourselves to feel fear, acknowledge it, and then remind ourselves we’re ready. That’s how we turn fear into fuel.
So next time you or your son face a high-pressure moment, remember: you’re not alone. Everyone has felt the same way — before a pitch, a presentation, or a big decision. You feel nervous because you care.
Tell your son to let those feelings roll in, then roll out, while reminding himself: You’ve prepared for this. You’re ready.
Nervous? Nah. I’m excited. Let’s go.
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About Baseball Dad & PR Guy
Baseball Dad & PR Guy is a weekly newsletter about youth sports culture and how parents shape the experience for young athletes.
It’s built around the 5 Moments That Shape Young Ballplayers, from the nerves before a game to the car ride home.
From the stands, I write about those moments and what they mean for confidence, identity, and a kid’s love of the game.
Read more about the 5 Moments and why they matter.
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