Part 2: Fill the Void — Turning Presence into Practice

Charles D'Amico
Oct 26
6 min read

The Quiet Years Before 806 Drive

After that tournament, I didn’t start a team.I didn’t rant, or pull my kid out, or try to prove a point.

Instead, I went quiet.

For about a year, I helped his head coach behind the scenes — quietly organizing things, helping with lineups, keeping notes, trying to make sense of it all. It wasn’t glamorous or official. It was spreadsheets at midnight, text chains with other parents, tracking little details most people ignored.

I wanted to understand why it always felt like we were chasing clarity instead of building it.

Then came another season. And another. Two full years — four baseball seasons — of learning what worked and what didn’t. Fall, spring, fall, spring. Each one teaching me something new about patience, systems, and people.

Because here’s the truth: you don’t build something like 806 Drive overnight. You build it one conversation, one failure, one notebook page at a time.

When I finally formed 806 Drive, it wasn’t out of anger. It was out of respect. Respect for how hard this job really is. Respect for what it takes to actually organize, teach, and remember — not just show up and coach.

Why Notes Matter More Than You Think

Every time I talk about note-taking, someone rolls their eyes.“Come on, man, it’s youth baseball, not NASA.”

Yeah, but that’s the point. NASA tracks everything so they don’t lose a rocket. We’re tracking kids, so we don’t lose their trust.

When I say I take notes, I don’t mean a binder full of charts. I mean voice memos on the drive home. A text to myself about a kid who smiled more that day. Something as simple as “Crewe’s timing looked better when he slowed his breathing between pitches.”

The moment you write something down, it goes from a thought to a record. It becomes something you can build from instead of something you vaguely remember next week.

The more information you capture, the calmer you get as a coach. You stop reacting. You start responding.

“Information without context is noise. Coaching is about turning that noise into something useful.”— Joe Maddon, The Book of Joe

That’s what notes do. They turn the noise of a long weekend into a plan.

Building Systems, Not Excuses

I don’t care how talented you are as a coach — if you don’t have systems, you’re guessing. At 806 Drive, we’ve built small habits that make a big difference:

Immediate Reflection: After every game or practice, coaches send a 60-second voice note — what worked, what didn’t, one thing that stood out for a player. AI transcribes it automatically. Ten minutes later, we’ve got a record.
Weekly Debrief:I talk to the staff every week. We compare notes and check our biases. You’d be amazed how often the story changes once we slow down.
Monthly Parent Updates: We send parents a quick message about what we’re focusing on—team and individual growth. Not a newsletter. Just honesty. “Here’s what we’re working on. Here’s what’s improving. Here’s where to focus.”

It sounds simple, but that transparency builds trust. It’s hard for a parent to get upset when they know the plan.

“Kids crave structure, not control. Parents crave clarity, not perfection.”— Mike Matheny, The Matheny Manifesto

Not perfect coaching. Just organized empathy.

The Psychology of Recall

The brain isn’t built for accuracy; it’s built for survival.Memory distorts. Emotion colors perception. We remember the drama, not the detail.

That’s why eyewitness testimony is garbage, and it’s why “gut feel” coaching gets messy.

If you can’t remember what actually happened, how can you fairly evaluate a kid or give them actionable feedback?

So you have two choices:

Live by perception and emotion.
Or use tools that help you see the truth.

GameChanger, video clips, voice notes — they aren’t gadgets; they’re mirrors. They show us what actually happened when adrenaline fades.

That’s how you stay honest. Not just with kids, but with yourself.

What It Looks Like in Practice

We had a kid this season who thought he was slumping. “Man, I can’t hit anything lately.”We pulled the data — contact rates, timing, approach notes.

Turns out, his contact percentage had actually improved. He just wasn’t getting results yet.

We showed him the proof, explained process vs outcome, and watched his confidence return overnight.

That’s the power of record-keeping. It lets you give truth instead of comfort.

And when kids realize you’re paying attention — really paying attention — they trust you even when you bench them. Because they know it’s not personal. It’s developmental.

Leadership Crossovers

Running 11 businesses taught me this: emotion without information creates chaos.In restaurants, when something goes wrong — wrong order, high labor, upset customer — the first instinct is to blame. But the real fix always comes from data.

The same applies to coaching. You can yell, or you can track. You can react, or you can review.

Every leader fights the same battle: we fill voids.The question is, what do we fill them with?

If you fill them with frustration, people shut down.If you fill them with information, people engage.

That’s leadership — whether you’re managing a restaurant or teaching a ten-year-old to hit an inside fastball.

Teaching Coaches to Coach

I used to think my role was to coach kids.Now I realize my role is to coach coaches — and sometimes, even parents.

That doesn’t mean preaching or correcting every move. It means inviting conversation, gently.Saying, “Here’s what’s worked for us. Here’s what I learned the hard way.”

Everyone has an approach. Some are loud. Some are calm. Some teach fear. Some teach freedom.

But the best ones — the ones who leave marks that last — are the ones who see their kids.Who remember. Who write things down.Who fill the void with information instead of emotion.

Modern Coaching Tools

Let’s be honest: the “no time” excuse is gone.

If you’ve got time to doom-scroll TikTok, you’ve got time to record a 60-second voice memo after a game.If you can text your fantasy football group, you can text a note about your lineup’s growth points.

Technology isn’t the enemy of presence — it’s the amplifier.

You can build a system that remembers for you.Use AI to transcribe, summarize, even trend your team’s progress.The more you offload that mental clutter, the more space you have to see your players as people.That’s what I mean by filling the void.

Coaching Without Fear

That Florida tournament taught me that fear never really goes away.Not for players. Not for parents. Not for coaches.

We just get better at not letting it stop us.

Fear shows up in different ways — the kid afraid to fail, the parent afraid to ask, the coach afraid to be questioned.But courage, in any role, starts with curiosity.

And curiosity only lives where there’s information.

If I can show a kid data on how much better his first-pitch swing rate is, suddenly he believes me.If I can show a parent notes on how their kid’s been progressing, they don’t feel attacked — they feel included.

Fear shrinks when truth grows.

The Half-Second Difference

Baseball’s a game of inches and half-seconds.

The half-second between recognizing a curveball and swinging.The half-second between panic and presence.The half-second between saying, “I can’t,” and “I’ll try.”

It’s the same for coaches. The half-second between reacting and responding can change everything.Taking that breath, pulling up a note, checking your data before you speak — that’s leadership in motion.

Closing: Fill the Void

Being there for kids doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being patient enough to remember. It means slowing down, writing things down, and communicating like it matters — because it does.

We talk about building strong kids. Maybe what we really need is more consistent adults (I'm speaking to myself in the past on this one, hard).

People who fill the voids with clarity.Who trade chaos for care.Who show up, pay attention, and take notes like it’s the most important job in the world.

Because for those kids, it is.