By Brian Gotta, President of Every Kid Comes Back

I’d like to share one of my own Every Kid Comes Back stories.

I was coaching Little League (surprise). It was my and my oldest son’s first year in Majors. We were the Braves. A player I inherited who was supposed to be our team’s star pitcher missed half our games for travel soccer. We didn’t have a great year.

James was an eleven-year-old I drafted. I don’t remember meeting his dad, but his mom was originally from Japan and English was her second language. James struggled at the plate. In our entire 22-game season, he got one hit. One.

At the end of the season, as we were saying goodbye to our players, his mom approached me. She may not have been from this country, but she understood that James did not have a productive year. She asked me, almost wincing as she anticipated my answer, if I wanted James to come back next year.

I will admit thoughts rushed through my mind about being able to draft a different player in his place. I thought about what it would mean next year to have him in our lineup again. But, fortunately, the words that came out of my mouth were, “Of course. Absolutely. He’s a Brave.”

She asked again, “Are you sure?”

I said, “Yes. He needs to come back.”

Well, James did come back. Because he was now a 12-year-old, he was installed as one of the leaders of the team. He and the other 12-year-olds led the pregame stretches. We asked the “seniors” to explain drills and systems to the younger players. I will never forget the stoic kid who rarely smiled trying to hide his pride when he was put in a position of responsibility.

And I won’t tell you he was one of our stars, but he contributed. He got a lot more hits than he had the previous season. He made some great plays in the field and came running into the dugout to applause and pounds on the back. At those times, he didn’t try to hide his smile.

And that year, the Braves won the championship. James got to be part of a dog-pile celebration and was included in a team photo that was in the newspaper. His mother thanked me at the end of the season with such gratitude, it was touching.

I don’t know what happened to James after that, but I am absolutely sure he will never forget his final year of Little League and that he benefited tremendously from it. The lessons he learned about life and about himself were transformative. And those lessons were only learned because of one thing: Because he came back.