The 7 Travel Ball Parent Types

Has a binder. Has a spreadsheet. Has a custom Google Sheet with conditional formatting and a pivot table tracking OPS by count. He knows your kid's batting average to three decimal places before the third inning is over. Nobody asked for this information. He provides it anyway. Between innings. Loudly.

His phone battery dies by the fourth game because he's been live-updating a shared doc that three people follow, two of whom are him on different devices.

Hasn't coached a game since 2009 but has very strong opinions about the lineup, the pitching rotation, the defensive alignment, and the third-base coach's signs. Delivers these opinions at a volume that suggests the actual coaching staff is hard of hearing.

Signature move: yelling “THAT'S what I've been saying” when anything they predicted eventually happens by pure chance.

Has a cooler the size of a small sedan. It contains individually labeled Gatorades, allergy-safe snacks for every kid on the roster, a backup first aid kit, sunscreen in three SPF levels, and a phone charger. She has never once been thanked enough.

If your team has a good Snack Mom, you protect her at all costs. She is the backbone of your entire operation and she knows it.

Their 11-year-old “has interest” from three travel organizations and a “relationship” with a college coach who once nodded in their general direction at a showcase. Every conversation eventually circles back to their kid's exit velo, which they measured in the garage with a device they bought specifically for this purpose.

By 14U they'll have a highlight reel with a licensed song and slow-motion bat flips.

Has three weather apps open at all times. Will inform you that there is a 23% chance of precipitation at 2:47 PM. Has opinions about whether the tournament director will call games early. Has a pop-up tent, a tarp system, and a rain plan that involves a batting cage 11 miles away that they already looked up.

They are always right about the weather. They are never right about whether the games will be cancelled.

Showed up with one lawn chair. No tent. No cooler. Didn't know games start at 8 AM on Saturday and end around heat stroke o'clock. Their kid is in jeans. They're in work shoes. They are visibly overwhelmed and slightly sunburned by 10 AM.

Be kind to the First-Timer. You were the First-Timer once. Give them a Gatorade from the Snack Mom's cooler and point them toward the shade. They'll figure it out by tournament three.

Has done this for six years across three kids. Nothing surprises them. They have the camping chair with the attached side table. They have the exact change for the snack bar. They know which porta-potties to avoid. They know the tournament director by first name and know exactly when pool play tiebreakers will be posted.

They don't get excited anymore. They just show up, set up their chair, nod at the other Veterans, and wait for the bracket to sort itself out. They are the closest thing travel ball has to enlightenment.