My All-Star

As Major League Baseball celebrates its All-Stars, I want to honor one of mine—Coach Lockwood.

This week, Major League Baseball celebrates its All-Stars. And while it’s important to recognize the best players in the game, I want to take a moment to honor one of my All-Stars.

I played baseball until high school and made the county All-Star team in eighth grade. In high school, I shifted my focus to wrestling and track—qualified for States my senior year in pole vault—and went on to compete at the collegiate level. Across all my athletic experiences, I had many coaches and a few left lasting impressions. But one coach stands above the rest.

As we honor our All-Stars this week, I want to recognize mine—a man who not only helped me develop as an athlete, but who helped me become the person I am today. The best coach I ever had: Coach Lockwood.

The summer after fourth grade, we had tryouts for Little League where each coach would scout the players and make their selections for the season. At that point in my development, I had a lot to learn at the plate—but defensively, I stood out. I was always one of the best fielders on the diamond, normally anchoring shortstop, and I gave everything I had defensively during the tryouts knowing that my offense left a lot to be desired.

A few days later, I got the call: I’d been drafted by Coach Lockwood. His team that year? The Cleveland Indians. Looking back now...it must have been fate.

I’ll always remember our first team practice. At the end of the practice, Coach Lockwood had us gather in the outfield in a circle, all of us holding hands—players and coaches. He told us that the most important thing our team could have was love. That for this summer, we were a family, and we needed to love and support each other just like a family does.

Then he let go with one of his hands, breaking the chain momentarily, and while still holding on with his other hand, he began slowly rotating in a circle. As he spun around, the circle began to form a spiral. He rotated more and more, and the spiral grew tighter and tighter...until we were all wrapped around each other, holding one another, forming a giant team hug.

That first practice set the foundation for everything that came after.

While I was always the best defender on my teams, in fourth grade I hadn’t figured out how to hit the ball yet. Swings and misses were the norm, and I was lucky to even hit a foul ball. Despite my offensive struggles, Coach Lockwood knew that my defensive prowess was useful for our team. I watched the Cleveland Indians religiously, especially Omar Vizquel, one of the best defenders our franchise has ever had. And because I studied the game so closely, Coach Lockwood saw something in me.

He began to coach me in a way no other coach had before. Not just coaching me athletically, but teaching me what it meant to be a leader. When I was in the field at shortstop, he’d call out from the dugout, “Mario, where’s the play at?” And I’d call it out to the rest of the team. He was teaching me not just how to play the game the right way—but how to lead...at least on defense since I was still inept at the plate.

Now while I couldn’t get a hit, I was still the fastest player on the team, and one day he pulled me aside while I was waiting on-deck and said, “Mario, you’re the fastest one on the team. We just need to get you on base. Can you bunt?”

“Yeah, I think I can bunt,” I said having watched Omar and Kenny Lofton for years.

So, as I stepped into the batter’s box I squared around to bunt. The pitch came and I laid down a beautiful bunt toward third base and sprinted as fast as I could to first.

Safe!

Just like that, we had our proof of concept. Game after game, our new bunting strategy worked. Suddenly, I was getting on base—not just anchoring the defense, but becoming a weapon on the base paths as well. That one creative shift in strategy transformed my game—all because Coach Lockwood knew how to maximize each player’s unique strengths. That was what truly set him apart as a coach.

All through the season, he kept coaching us up and helping each player maximize their unique talents. And as he did, our team kept improving: each player growing and learning, each teammate supporting one another, everyone rising up out of that foundation of love that we had formed in that first practice.

We had Matt manning third base, the best player on the team who went on to have an impressive baseball career. There was Josh, Coach Lockwood’s son, who played first and was also a basketball player so even the highest throws couldn’t get past him. And we had Mike who was a great catcher with a strong arm, and would later play quarterback at the same college where I ran track.

Each player was overlooked by other coaches for various reasons, but Coach Lockwood saw a unique talent in each one of us that he could tap into. And that team of misfits, all coached to maximize their unique abilities, eventually made the Little League playoffs. And applying those lessons that Coach Lockwood had instilled in us, we eventually worked our way to the semifinals.

That game was close—back and forth—and in the final inning, we were down by one run. Mike had walked, Josh had hit a single, and Matt followed him up to load the bases. Then I came to the plate...the one player who still didn’t know how to hit. But once again, as always, Coach Lockwood had a plan.

He pulled me aside and whispered something in my ear. I smiled knowingly and nodded.

Stepping to the plate, I squared around to bunt. My teammates started screaming from the dugout, “No, Mario! What are you doing? The bases are loaded! Don’t bunt!”

But when the pitch came, I pulled the bat head back just enough for a swinging bunt—hitting the ball far enough to get the runner from third across the plate to tie the game. The screams of horror just moments before quickly turned into chants of elation and we ended up winning the game in that final inning, sending us to the championship.

The night before the big game, Coach Lockwood invited the entire team and all the families over to his house for a final team dinner. He gave every player a trophy that night—so no matter what happened the next day, we’d already won something.

Holding up a cup of Coca-Cola, he toasted his team that had made it to the Little League Championship. In his toast he recognized every player and the contribution they had made to that year’s Cleveland Indians team. At the end of his toast he said, “If I had to build a team from scratch, I’d choose Matt to be the engine of the team—and Mario to be the heart.”

That next day, we played our hearts out.

We jumped out to an early lead, then fell behind big. The rest of the game we desperately tried to work our way back. And in the second-to-last inning, still trailing by three, it was Josh who stepped to the plate with runners on second and third, and two outs.

You could feel the tension in the air as the game hung in the balance. The pitch came. Josh took a mighty swing, connecting solidly...but the ball went right to the second baseman, and they recorded the third out of the inning.

As we gathered our mitts to head out for the final inning of the championship game, Josh came back to the bench, and plopped down next to me, head slumped, tears welling up in his eyes. And because of what Coach Lockwood had taught me, and that deep love that he had instilled in our team, I put my arm around Josh and told him confidently, “You’re going to get another chance. I promise you.”

Well we got out of the top of the inning still down by three runs, and with determination in our hearts we fought and clawed our way back—each player contributing in their own way. In that last inning we eventually tied the game—and with runners on second and third, and two outs, Josh came to the plate once again.

The entire season had come down to this moment. The opposing pitcher threw the ball...and with a mighty crack of the bat, Josh sent the ball into the outfield...and we scored the winning run. The bench went berserk, and as Josh came back to the dugout jumping up and down, I ran up to him screaming, “I told you! I told you, you were going to do it!”

We had won the Little League Championship—as the Cleveland Indians. A storybook finish. We all got championship trophies with a golden plaque on the front that said “1st Place - Little League Champions”. And that championship trophy still sits in my closet at my mom’s house next to the trophy that Coach Lockwood gave us the night before. But the one that still means the most to me—is the one that Coach Lockwood gave me.

Years later, I found myself teaching third grade in Cancún, Mexico. It was a tough class with some students that could really make life difficult for the other kids, but one girl—Luisa—was different from the others. She was shy, sweet, and loved to draw quietly at her desk. A gentle soul.

Well one day after recess, Luisa didn’t come back to class. One of the other girls came up to my desk and told me, “Luisa’s crying in the bathroom. She’s the nicest one in the whole class. I don’t know why anyone would be mean to her.”

So I brought the whole class outside to where we had recess and told one of the girls to ask Luisa to come to the courtyard.

She came over timidly—eyes red and bloodshot, cheeks stained from her dried tears.

I told the entire class to form a circle and to hold hands. And then I told Luisa to let go with one of her hands, and to start rotating in a circle. As she turned, the spiral began to form. And as Luisa spun more and more, the spiral grew tighter and tighter...until the entire class had circled around her in a group hug, with Luisa at the center.

I looked at Luisa at the center of that giant embrace and I told her, “We love you, Luisa. This class is a family, and we’re here for you.”

She looked at me...and the tears were gone...replaced by a smile that could outshine the sun.

That moment would have never happened without Coach Lockwood. His love and the lessons he taught us didn’t just change our team—they left a lasting impression on me, and on every player lucky enough to have had him as their coach. The love we shared as a team still lives on, and I do what I can to pass it along—to honor the man who meant so much to that Cleveland Indians team in fourth grade—the Little League Champions.

So as we celebrate the All-Stars this weekend, I want to celebrate mine.

This is for you, Coach Lockwood.

Thank you.