Baseball Camp is about so much more than baseball.

Yes, there's lots of baseball skill work, baseball games, baseball stories, and baseball trivia, but so many of the lessons we're teaching the campers on the field are beneficial in other sports, and, more importantly, in life.

One of the most crucial "bigger than baseball" messages we relay to the kids is about how important it is to be a great teammate.

On the surface, this means cheering loudly from the dugout when our teammates are batting, giving high fives when they get back to the dugout after scoring a run, and giving them an "Atta Boy!" when they make a great defensive play.

Being supportive in the moments of success is important.

And easy.

It's easy to be a great teammate when things are going great. But the truth is that a player who just hit a double, or made a diving catch, or struck out the other team's best player doesn't really need his teammates to pump him up because he's already feeling great from the success he just had.

The reality is that it's in the moments of struggle, failure, frustration, and self-doubt that we need our teammates the most. Unfortunately, when things aren't going well, that's when it's most difficult to be a great teammate, but also most necessary.

A player needs his teammates the most after striking out, making an error, or throwing a wild pitch!

A quick story:

The year was 1997 and my best friend Sully and I were the only 2 sophomores on the Varsity Baseball team at our high school. We were towards the end of our annual Spring Break trip - 2 weeks in Florida that had us playing games every single day (and sometimes doubleheaders) and, as was usually the case on these trips, we got our butts kicked on most days.

The big public-school teams in Florida were not only objectively better than our small private school team, they also had the advantage of weather. Our 1st game of the season was usually their 15th game of the season. They were in mid-season form while we had been trying to play long-toss in a basketball gym or on a snow-covered field. We always returned home to DC after these trips well prepared to play other small cold-weather schools, but it was definitely a grind working so hard daily in Florida for so few wins.

Finally, though, in one of the last games of the trip, we had a 1 run lead heading into the later innings. I was the team's starting Catcher and even though it was my first season ever putting on the gear in my life, I already took a ton of pride in the fact that my goal for every game was that not one ball would get past me to the backstop. I even blocked bounced warm-up pitches in the bullpen and on the field in between innings.

So here we were with a 1-run lead and a runner on third in the bottom of the 6th inning (of 7). They had a runner on 3rd with 2 outs and I called a slider from our #1 pitcher. He bounced the pitch, which is what we wanted to do in that situation, and I went down to my knees to block it. Unfortunately, it ricocheted off my chest protector and the runner on 3rd scored easily to tie the game. We struck out the batter on the next pitch and returned to the dugout, now tied, with a chance to get that run back in the top of the 7th.

As our lead-off hitter in the top of the 7th stepped to the plate, everyone on our team climbed to the top step of the dugout to cheer him on. Everyone but me.

I sat in the corner of the dugout, head in my hands, dejected, and feeling sorry for myself over the fact that I had let that slider get past me, costing us a run in a crucial spot.

I was being selfish, immature, overly emotional, and worse, a bad teammate as I couldn't find it in me to put my own feelings aside to re-engage with the team and help cheer for our offense. The game wasn't even over, but I sure was acting like it.

It was at that moment that Sully came over to me, put his arm around me, and basically said, as only a great friend and teammate could, "knock this **** off, get up on the top step, and start cheering. We need you."

He shook me out of my funk. I re-joined my teammates and start cheering.

Was that the last time I ever made a mistake on the baseball field? (Or soccer field? Or basketball court?) Of course not!

Was that the last time I ever got frustrated at myself while playing sports? Of course not!

Was that the last time I internally blamed myself for my team's loss? Of course not!

But it WAS the last time I ever let my emotions affect my behavior or effort.

It WAS the last time I ever let 1 play upset me for more than 2 seconds.

It WAS the last time (I hope) that I ever stopped being a good teammate.

And kudos to Sully, who at age 16 had enough wisdom and maturity to recognize that he had a teammate in need. Of course Sully was there to give me a high five after we closed out a win. Of course Sully was there for me when I returned to the dugout after scoring a run or having a quality at-bat moving a runner over. But those were the times it was easy to be a good teammate.

He was there for me, in that moment, when it was far more difficult to be a great teammate. It would have been way easier for him to just leave me alone and let me finish the pity party by myself. Or worse, it would have easier for him to blame me for losing the lead.

But Sully was a great teammate; he recognized that I was down and needed to get picked back up.

I remember that moment in the dugout with Sully much more vividly than I remember what our record was that season (I have no clue) or what my batting average was (again, I have no clue).

It's those moments playing sports that truly stick.

Back to Camp, none of the kids on the field are going to remember how many hits they had this week. They won't remember how many runs they scored. And they won't remember how many hits any of their teammates had. But they will remember how it felt being at camp. They will remember which teammates picked them up when they were down. They will remember how the coaches did nothing but support them all week, rather than get upset with them for swinging at a bad pitch or booting a groundball.

And as they get older, they'll remember less and less of the details of their playing careers. But they will remember their teammates (both good and bad). They will remember their coaches (both good and bad). And they will remember what playing sports felt like to them (both good and bad).

As parents and coaches, not only do we want to continue to encourage our players to be great teammates, but we have an obligation to model great behavior ourselves by not over-reacting to mistakes, but not sulking after losses, and by not blaming umpires or opposing coaches.

Our kids will remember their youth sports experience for how it FELT to participate (both and good and bad) far more than they will remember any individual game, stat line, or championship trophy.

It's a big responsibility, but we can do it!

PLAY HARD, HAVE FUN!