By Damon Mason

Now that our team was officially created, it was time to get to work. But let’s be real—none of us had ever played together before. Truthfully, most of us hadn’t even been on an organized team. So this wasn’t just about baseball anymore; it was about learning everything from the ground up.

Coach Gary Anderson did a lot of teaching. We had countless practices where we learned how to field ground balls the right way, catch pop flies, bunt, turn double plays, run the bases, and—my personal favorite—steal bases. We learned how to slide and how to warm up with the proper “crow hop.” We were no longer trying out—we were preparing for a full season. And that season came with all the ups, downs, and surprises that we could imagine.

The biggest moment before our first game? Getting our uniforms. But even that came with a lesson for me.

See, before I ever earned a uniform, I had already earned a few other things… like nicknames. Not the kind you brag about either. I had quickly become known as “crybaby,” “hot head,” “quick temper,” “sore loser,” and “quitter.” And unfortunately, I earned every single one.

In our scrimmage games before the season started, if I struck out, I cried or threw the bat. If someone missed a play—sometimes even if it was me—I had something to say. And when we lost? I wanted to quit. But like clockwork, I always showed up for practice the next day. It became a pattern I wasn’t proud of, and one that Coach Gary noticed.

Vance Jones and I lived in the same Park Place neighborhood in LaPlace. When we got word that uniforms were being handed out at Coach Gary’s house in Woodland Quarters, we were hyped. We walked the train tracks all the way there, full of excitement. Coach Gary’s son, Armond Anderson, Romell Anthony, and Lendell “Dusty” Smith all lived next door to each other. Yeah, Dusty is the one who got cut with us, but managed to sneak back with the A’s. But he lives next to Armond and Romell and We were becoming like family, and I couldn’t wait for my moment.

But when Coach started handing out uniforms, I was the last one standing. He looked at me and said something along the lines of, “I don’t know if you deserve this.” My heart sank. But thankfully, his wife Ms. Debra came out and vouched for me. Before I got my jersey, I received a serious talk—and one that stuck with me. Then finally… he gave me the uniform.

That moment wasn’t just about a jersey. It was about accountability, growth, and understanding that how you carry yourself matters more than your stats.

In the next episode, I’ll take you inside our very first season as the LaPlace Dodgers—and how one final game changed everything. It set the tone for who we would become not just as teammates, but as young men chasing something greater.