If you’ve coached kids, you’ve likely been here before.

Your team is down by five runs before it seems like you can blink your eyes. Your son is crying. Other players are also showing signs of giving up.

Whether Michael Umpierre’s Waterdogs, playing in a Little League championship game in Washington, D.C., came back to win wasn’t relevant when a panel of judges was selecting a national baseball coach of the year.

But how Umpierre responded in the game captured the essence of what they wanted for the award.

“The whole speech lasted only a minute or two, but the change in the kids was palpable,” says Jeff Skinner, an assistant coach on the team.

Suddenly, the end result was pushed into the distant future. It was time to EAT.

Umpierre was named the 2024 Little League Coach of the Year for baseball, an award that honors the thousands who volunteer every year at the position and embodies what it means to be a positive coach.

“I never saw him express frustration in the dugout, even when a play went totally sideways in any of the million ways that things can go wrong in a Little League game,” Skinner tells USA TODAY Sports. “Mike was always there with a high five for the kid and an assurance that he believed in him and that he would get the next one.”

This is a story of a coach from Capitol City Little League, his team of 9-, 10- and 11-year olds, and how they faced adversity, and overcame it together with cries of “Let’s EAT!”

Umpierre (aka “Coach Mike”) is the son of Cuban immigrants who has made his career about advocating for kids. Here’s what other coaches and parents of youth athletics can learn from his experience.

As a coach, you're not just building a team. You're building a community.

Paul and Maritza Umpierre emigrated to Los Angeles separately, Paul in 1959, Maritza in the 1960s. Neither spoke English nor had many resources.

“They learned that it takes an entire community to support one another,” says Umpierre, the middle child between an older (Chris) and younger brother (Justin).

Community became a core value when the couple started a family, and when Paul coached youth baseball teams. To Paul, baseball wasn’t just a sport, it was a way of life, a method to teach his sons to think beyond their individual capabilities and as part of a team.

The collective strength of the community was far greater than that of any individual member. It was also just a safe, friendly place to be.

“It wasn't necessarily about winning, but it was about coming together as a team and doing the best that you could, focusing on your effort, your attitude, your contributions to the overall team,” says Michael Umpierre, now 45. “I think the most positive, fondest memories I have are the ones of those teams that I was on where everybody supported one another and we had fun together.”

Some coaches treat Little League, a community sport to its core, as an extension of travel baseball. They stack their strongest players at the top of the lineup and at key positions and play weaker players sparingly.

A number of kids sit on the bench, watch their teammates thrive and lose confidence in themselves.

Umpierre thinks everyone deserves a chance. That way of thinking drove him into a career as an attorney and as director of the Center for Juvenile Justice Reform at Georgetown University. And it has guided him into coaching after he married Rachael Overcash, and they had two kids, Alexander, 11, and Josephine, 7.

“No matter what level your kid comes in at, whether your kid's a really good player or sort of new to baseball, or maybe somebody who really loves baseball and but he's kind of struggled with it, Mike is gonna help them become a better player,” says Luke Hartig, whose son, Jed, played on Umpierre’s Waterdogs. “Teach them the skills, teach them the fundamentals, help them improve and focus on their own journey, as opposed to comparing themselves to others. That's really big. He really emphasizes a culture of fairness.”

Umpierre has a spreadsheet with a formula to make sure each player has equal opportunities in different parts of the lineup. He also ensures they got equitable time in field positions, giving everyone their opportunity to have a big moment.

“For a lot of kids, this kid's a real boon to the spirit of the team,” Hartig says. “This is the kid who's gonna be really lifting up his teammates from the dugout. He's going to be encouraging his teammates when they have struggles. Mike's really good at finding the unique couple of things that each kid can contribute that's gonna make the team great.

“I've seen really good players play even better (and) really lift up their teammates. I've seen kids who had maybe struggled a bit in baseball who were suddenly just playing as well as they possibly could, playing beyond what they thought they could, because Mike believed that they could play at that level, and because their teammates believed they could play at that level based on the culture of the team that Mike had built.”

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'Let's EAT!' Three ways you can define your team

This past season, Umpierre managed in Triple A, which is a step below majors, the level you see at the Little League World Series. Triple-A games tend to have a relatively high number of walks and time outs before six innings, the standard limit for a game.

In one case last season, Skinner, the assistant coach, watched one of his players offer up his coveted third base spot in the field to a teammate who had played only one infield inning.

"Let's EAT, coach!" the boy said as he ran out to right field.

Umpierre coined the phrase in hopes that each of his players would be defined by their Effort, Attitude and Teamwork as much as their baseball ability.

“Let’s EAT” meant each player would try his best to make a play without worrying about mistakes.

“I don't believe that players are motivated through the fear of being pulled from the game after making an error,” Umpierre says.

If an error occurred, it meant everyone would “brush it off,” a motion Umpierre made with a hand on his shoulder, and kids began to emulate during games.

And it meant he would give out a game ball to the top player but also a pack of baseball cards to a kid who demonstrated a positive attitude.

Teamwork went beyond games. It also meant gathering to watch player Silviu Bugg perform in his school musical that sometimes took him away from practice.

Bugg’s face lit up when he saw his coach and team, who had become his extended family, at the play.

“The kids loved Mike,” Skinner says. “He would start the postgame team huddle smiling and nodding his head and the kids would all join in and start cheering, all without a word being said, which struck me as a really organic example of team building. The kids also looked to Mike for support when they had a rough inning; he always was there with a pep talk or a sympathetic ear. And this extended to kids who were not even on our team! In the playoffs, a kid on the opposing team that we had just beaten was very down. Mike went over to tell him how proud he was of how hard the kid played and that he could see that the kid would be a star next year, which clearly made the kid feel much better.”

Trying hard is independent from trying to win

In her acclaimed study that explores what makes sports fun for kids, Amanda Visek came up with 81 fun determinants among young athletes (ages 8 to 18), as well as sports parents and coaches.

The three top fun factors for kids were trying hard, positive team dynamics and positive coaching. In other words, kids push themselves for their teammates and respond to a coach because they enjoy it, not just because they want to win.

“When you're able to to focus on the process, there isn't as much pressure on the kids," Umpierre says. "They're freer to try and to do their best without feeling like they're going to let their coach down or to let their team down.

“Once I realized that it's really the process that matters, an interesting thing happened, which is the results came.”

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Judges from Little League and partners Lance sandwich crackers and the Positive Coaching Alliance sifted through 3,500-plus nominations, a record number for the six years of competitions among Little League's baseball, softball, and challenger divisions.

“Let’s EAT," and the teaching method behind it, helped Umpierre to stand out.

“Not only does this motto drive hard work and positive sportsmanship during the game, but many players have started applying it to other areas of their lives, including schoolwork and community involvement,” says Victoria Strang, the marketing director for Lance. “We heavily assess how well the coach aligns with the qualities we’re looking for — such as being a trusted and positive role model, showcasing strong leadership, and demonstrating respect for other teams, officials and leagues.

“While the nominators for Coach Michael ranged from colleagues to parents to former players, there were a few common themes across all submissions — (he) isn’t just a coach; he’s a positive role model for his players, both on and off the field.”

But had he really prepared his team for this?

When you reduce the pressure, there's no pressure to win. But you might win anyway.

As Umpierre was honored this weekend, throwing out the first pitch at a Little League World Series game in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, his players were closely watching him.

Let’s go back to the Waterdogs’ 5-0 deficit in their championship game. Skinner’s son, David, the top pitcher on the team, didn’t have his best game. Umpierre gave the ball to his son, Alexander, with two outs and the bases loaded in the top of the first inning.

Alexander was in tears.

“Dad,” he said. “This game’s over. We've lost the championship.”

“Just go out there and do your best,” Mike told him. “I believe in you.”

Alexander got the out and threw two more scoreless innings. The team came back to win.

“That's something that he's going to be able to hang on to for the rest of his life, in other contexts,” his father says. “If he's ever doubting himself, he can look back in that moment and think when the times were toughest and the things looked the bleakest, I was able to dig deep and to find something in me that I didn't know I had.”

Skinner recalls the huge smile on Mike’s face when the team reached the dugout in the first.

“He gave a pep talk about why we brush off rough innings, especially when we have six at-bats to go get the runs back,” Skinner says. “Over the next several innings, as we chipped away at the lead, Mike never seemed the slightest bit concerned about the score.”

What do you remember most about your favorite coach?

Was it just the games you won, or was it how he or she spoke to you during them? Was it what the coach said to you after a big hit, or how he seemed to know just how you felt after a tough loss?

Or maybe it was just something he said that made you smile, like a good-humored team slogan.

The kids who have played for Coach Mike are likely to remember all of it.

Steve Borelli, aka Coach Steve, has been an editor and writer with USA TODAY since 1999. He spent 10 years coaching his two sons’ baseball and basketball teams. He and his wife, Colleen, are now sports parents for two high schoolers. His column is posted weekly. For his past columns, click here.

Got a question for Coach Steve you want answered in a column? Email him at [email protected]