The headline is about coaching baseball, but let us start elsewhere.
Past Basketball Coaching Dreams
There was a time when I was a kid that I wanted to be a basketball coach. That time passed. In the end, I never undertook any effort to pursue basketball coaching as a profession, much less coached a game myself. The subject has not crossed my mind in many years, and certainly not since I have been running The New Leaf Journal.
Becoming a Trusted Source for Basketball Coaches
Speaking of running The New Leaf Journal, I make a habit of collecting links to my writing from around the web. In so doing, I came across a link in Mike Klinzing’s The Hoop Heads Podcast Newsletter for January 9, 2026. The link was not to my most “popular” NBA article, Examining Whether Defense Wins Championships, but instead to my more recent essay, Record vs Scoring Margin in NBA Team Analysis. Mr. Klinzing not only provided a link, but also commentary which I quote in full:
This article explains that a team’s win-loss record doesn’t always tell the whole story of performance, arguing that scoring margin (how much a team wins or loses by on average) is often a stronger indicator of true team strength and future success. It shows how teams with similar records can differ significantly in their underlying efficiency, with those posting higher average scoring margins typically demonstrating better offensive and defensive consistency. By comparing the two metrics, coaches and analysts can gain a clearer understanding of whether a team’s record reflects sustained performance or if it’s been buoyed (or hurt) by luck, close-game results, or inconsistent play.
Mike Klinzing
As the author, I rate this as a great summary of my article. One section jumped out at me:
By comparing the two metrics, coaches and analysts can gain a clearer understanding of whether a team’s record reflects sustained performance or if it’s been buoyed (or hurt) by luck, close-game results, or inconsistent play.
While I have never coached a basketball game, Mr. Klinzing recommended my article as worthwhile reading for basketball coaches in understanding the value of looking at scoring margin in addition to raw win-loss records. I was not previously familiar with Mr. Klinzing’s work, but I learned that he is the Founder and Executive Director of Head Start basketball and is a licensed USA Basketball Youth Development Coach in addition to running his own podcast and newsletter. Before coaching, Mr. Klinzing played four seasons of division one college basketball at Kent State, starting every game in his final three seasons and leading the Mid-American Conference in minutes per game (36.0) as a senior. I dare say he strikes me as a well-qualified source of information for basketball coaches, so I will add “top basketball coaching resource” to my list of accolades, which include 2D person hair color anthropologist, Japanese visual novel archaeologist, BLOB DYLAN noticer, and Hacker News page one poster.
The One Time I Was “Coach”
It is true, as I noted at the top, that “I never coached a game myself.” But that assertion is bounded by context. I never coached a basketball game, yes. But I cannot say that I have never been a coach.
Let me tell you about the one game I was first base coach for my high school’s baseball team.
My high school had a boy’s baseball team in my junior and senior years. It was a very small private school and in a league with similarly situated and less small private schools. The team was good in the context of its league in my senior year, posting a winning record (8-2 according to Max Preps, which is about what I remember) and sending two players to the league all star game (said players were involved in the story which inspired one of my Justin and Justina dialogues). But the team, featuring some of the same players, had been less successful in my junior year.
I was not a member of the baseball team. While I could shoot a basketball straight enough for pickup game purposes, I could not hit a baseball. I probably cannot catch or throw baseballs particularly well either. Nothing about me screams baseball practitioner. But I got along well with with some of the players on the baseball team. They wanted me to go to a game (not always possible as I was at that time working with my now-New Leaf Journal and visual novel developer colleague Victor V. Gurbo, who was then student editor of the high school newspaper). So one day in April or May (probably April), I stuck around after school and got on the bus with the team to go to a game (note the game was more or less in the same neighborhood as my school, so it was not a long trip and I ended up taking the same train I ordinarily took home, albeit from a different stop). I normally avoid buses and motor vehicles, but I do not recall having suffered any ill-effects from the short bus trip.
We arrived at the field. Our school was playing against Brooklyn Friends School, which is a Quaker school located in Downtown Brooklyn. To the best of my recollection, there were no spectators at the game, although it is possible there were a couple who tagged along with the Brooklyn Friends team. I had intended to simply watch the game. But little did I know that duty would call.
That year, our baseball team had been thrown together – probably at the proverbial last minute. At the game I attended, there was one coach – who was the gym teacher (nice guy who wisely left for a different job after going “one and done” at my school). Brooklyn Friends had the first and third base coaches covered (I do not recall whether their manager was pulling double-duty or if they had first and third base coach and a manager). We did not. We only had the manager-gym teacher. Moreover, I do not recall if we had any “reserve” players, but it is possible that we did not. In any event, I remember being surprised when the manager asked me, who had planned to only be there as a spectator, if I would take the position of third base coach.
Those of you who regularly read my writing may know that I have some knowledge of basketball, and then, unlike now, I followed the NBA (and several other sports) closely. Unfortunately, baseball was not among the sports I followed beyond seeing some highlights on Sports Center. While I know the rules of baseball and now have some understanding of baseball statistics, evinced by my article covering in part Barry Bonds’ strangely high intentional walk rate in the very year this high school baseball game took place, I was not a baseball expert such that I would have felt competent making discretionary coaching decisions as the third base coach. Perhaps if I had some time with the team and saw everyone play and understood what the game-plan was, but as I noted, I had been under the impression that I was going to watch the game, not coach the game.
Now 19 years after the event, I do not recall precisely how I articulated my qualms about being the third base coach with no notice or preparation and having only just learned what the responsibilities were, but I got through to the manager-gym teacher. Did that mean I would not coach that day?
Not so fast. The manager-gym teacher simply added third base coach to his own list of titles, and named yours truly the first base coach. My friend and classmate, who was by far the best player on both that year’s baseball team and the next year’s, approved of the plan. He was a baseball historian in addition to being the best player, so if he saw no problem, I figured all was well. I took my new position as first base coach. I finally made it. Coach Ferrell.
Unfortunately, the game did not go well for our side, but I can report that I executed my first base coach duties, such as they were, without incident. The best pitcher on our side was the friend I noted above. He was also the best batter and fielder. One issue with being the best at all the things is that on defense at least, you can only be in one place at a time. My friend idolized Mike Piazza and preferred to play catcher (he was the would-be “model” in one of my earlier school anecdote articles and a raw steak fan in another). So the guy who was our second best pitcher (I recall he could throw 70-75, so not bad for that level) was the starting pitcher. Our starting pitcher had a bad day at the office before being pulled after plunking a third unfortunate Brooklyn Friends batter (most unfortunate was the one he plunked on the hand, I hope that kid was alright). After he was pulled, our “catcher” took over as pitcher – which was an improvement (no plunking) although I recall he gave up a run or two. To the best of my recollection, we lost 7-1 or some score in that neighborhood.
As first base coach, I was not called upon to do much. We did not hit well in that game, so I did not have much company on first base. I recall my one moment in the sun was when the starting pitcher – who had plunked three and possibly broken one – made it to first base (I do not recall if he had a hit or was walked). He was talking to the first baseman and not paying attention. I subtly got him to pay attention because the manager, who was also our gym teacher, was sending instructions from third base. That, to the best of my recollection, was the only thing I actually had to “do” as first base coach.
After the game, we all lined up to shake hands. As Coach Ferrell, I was in the line. Up until that point, I had not thought of myself as coach. I was just there, filling in for our non-existent first base coach. But as we shook hands, one of the Brooklyn Friends coaches said “good game Coach.” I reciprocated. At that moment I saw myself as coach.
To my younger self: I did it, I became a coach. Maybe not how I had planned, however.
Epilogue
After the game, some of my friends apologized for the poor showing, saying it was not their best performance and they had wanted to play better when I came out. But as I noted at the top, the story would have a happy ending the next year when the team was better prepared, a bit deeper (some solid athletes joined the team the next year who did not participate that first year), and our ace of all things focused on pitching instead of catching (he caught games on his pitching off-days), in part because the pitcher from the prior year was recovering from a broken thumb he had suffered during basketball season (he was fortunately able to play at the end of the baseball season). I managed to make it to one game the next year (it was difficult for me to make it to games since I was then the student editor of the school newspaper), and we won that game decisively – although my ace of all things friend, who led the team in home runs, batting average, runs batted in, pitching, and probably many other hitherto unknown statistics, was annoyed that he did not have a good game in the batter’s box (he did on pitcher’s mound). While he could hit normal pitches, he admitted having had issues with the slow “meatballs” being thrown by his pitching counterpart.
