The Only Score That Matters Is the One at the End

 

The scoreboard tells you where you are in the game. It can change your strategy, but it shouldn't change the way you compete. Too often, players and coaches allow the score to affect the way they perform or the way they feel while the game is still being played. Get down 7–0 early and hitters start trying to hit seven-run home runs. Pitchers start trying to make perfect pitches. Coaches start feeling like they need to manufacture something immediately. Everyone feels the urgency of the scoreboard, and pretty soon you are no longer playing baseball the same way you were when the game was 0–0. The score has changed, but the game hasn't. You still have to play it.

What does being down 7–0 actually change about the next pitch? Nothing. The pitcher still has to throw the ball. The hitter still has to make a decision. The defense still has to catch it. The game does not suddenly become more complicated because there is a seven next to the other team's name. We make it more complicated when we start thinking about everything except the pitch that is happening right now. You cannot go back and change what happened in the first inning. Those pitches are gone. All you can do is compete against the pitch in front of you.

Maybe somebody draws a walk. Maybe the next guy hits a ball hard. Maybe somebody gets on because of an error. Then somebody doubles and suddenly it is 7–3. Now the other dugout starts looking at the scoreboard too. Good. Let them. Your job hasn't changed. Take care of the next pitch. That's something I believe strongly as a coach. Play the game. Don't play the scoreboard. That doesn't mean you ignore the situation. Sometimes the score and inning absolutely require different decisions. You might manage the game differently. You might run, bunt, change pitchers, move the defense or approach an at-bat differently. That's baseball. But strategy changing and mindset changing are two completely different things. Your strategy might change. Your ability to compete shouldn't.

A pitch in the first inning counts exactly the same as a pitch in the seventh. An out when you are winning by six counts exactly the same as an out when the game is tied. We make certain pitches feel more important because of the situation, but baseball doesn't care. Every pitch becomes part of the final score. That works the other way too. Being ahead 7–0 doesn't mean the game is over. Start playing like it is and you give the other team an opportunity to get back into it. The team that is winning has the same responsibility as the team that is losing: take care of the pitch that is happening right now.

That mentality wins. It doesn't guarantee you're going to come back from seven runs down. Sometimes you compete your ass off for the rest of the game and still lose. That's baseball. But the pitches that already happened cannot help you with the pitch that's coming next. The scoreboard is information. It doesn't have to become emotion. Eventually, there will be a final pitch. When it's over, look at the scoreboard. Celebrate if you won. Be pissed if you lost. Learn from it either way. Until then, play the game.

The only score that matters is the one at the end.

I'm Writing a Book

 

I've written a lot of things on this blog over the years. Some of it I still believe today. This blog has always given me a place to talk about baseball, coaching, leadership and whatever else happened to be on my mind.

For the last several months, I've been working on something much bigger.

I'm writing a book.

It's called Coaching Through the Storm.

I've thought about writing a book for years, but thinking about writing one and actually sitting down and doing it are two very different things. The manuscript is now more than 40,000 words. I've been working through it chapter by chapter, trying to make sure I tell the story the right way and, more importantly, tell it honestly.

I'm not going to say much more about what's in it yet.

What I will say is that writing it has made me look back at this blog differently.

When I started Gedman Baseball, I thought I was just writing about the game. I wrote about hitting, pitching, coaching, competing, confidence, failure and whatever I believed about baseball at that particular moment in my life. I never thought those posts would someday become a record I could look back on while writing a book.

There are years of my life sitting on this website. You can see what I believed at different points in my career. You can see how some of those beliefs changed and how others never did. In some ways, the person I was then is still sitting right here in these old posts.

So I wanted the people who have followed this blog over the years to hear about the book here first. Some of you have been reading my stuff for a long time, and whether there are five of you left or five thousand, I appreciate the hell out of anyone who ever took the time to read something I wrote.

There will be more to share when the time is right.

For now, I have a book to finish.

Coaching Through the Storm.

Coming early 2027.

—Ged

The Part of Coaching We Don’t Talk About

Most players don’t need more information. They don’t need ten different swing thoughts. They need things to be simple, clear, and consistent. I’ve seen it from the coaching side too. There are times where everything feels easy—you’re clear, you’re locked in, everything makes sense. And then there are times where even simple things, like communicating, feel harder than they should. Same game, same job—just a different feel.

So keep it simple. Be clear. Be consistent. Give players something they can actually hold onto. Most development isn’t about some perfect drill—it’s about showing up and stacking good days over time.

Nobody’s perfect. Players aren’t. Coaches aren’t.

But if you can create some level of consistency, that’s where real progress starts.

A lot of players deal with those ups and downs and don’t really have an explanation for it. That’s why routines matter. In a game built on failure, players need controllable actions they can rely on every day—positive self-talk, how they respond to failure, breathing, focus, effort. Things they can actually control.

The more “wins” a player can create within a game of failure, the better off they’re going to be.