The Balance of Growth, Part 2: Accountability vs. Expectations

There’s a line every parent and coach has to walk. It’s thin. Blurred. Easy to cross without noticing.

On one side is accountability — teaching kids to show up, to hustle, to own their mistakes. On the other side is expectation — demanding that kids perform at levels they’re not ready for, or punishing them when they don’t.

Too often, that line gets erased. And when it does, the fallout isn’t just a bad game or a rough practice. It’s deeper. It’s kids who learn the wrong lessons about responsibility, failure, and themselves.

The Weight of Words

Picture this: a 10-year-old shortstop boots a ground ball in the fourth inning. It’s an error. It happens. Before the next pitch is even thrown, he hears it: “You’ve been playing this game for years — how do you not know that play by now?”

That’s not accountability. That’s expectation, weaponized.

Accountability is holding him to effort: “Get in front of the ball. Focus every pitch.”Expectation is demanding mastery: “You should never make that mistake again.”

The first pushes growth. The second plants doubt.

And doubt grows faster than confidence.

The Illusion of Mastery

Parents forget that even college players, even minor leaguers, blow coverages. They forget that the game itself is built on failure — a hitter who succeeds three times in ten is an All-Star.

But somehow, we set bars for kids that professionals can’t clear. Why?

Because we confuse accountability for controllables (effort, focus, attitude) with expectations about outcomes (hits, perfect throws, flawless IQ).

When a coach or parent says, “I expect you to never miss that again,” what they’re really saying is, “I expect you to be perfect.”

And perfection is a cliff. Once a kid realizes they can’t reach it, they stop climbing.

What Accountability Really Looks Like

Accountability should be sharp, but fair. Demanding, but realistic. It’s holding kids to standards they can actually control.

• Show up on time.

• Hustle on and off the field.

• Stay locked in every pitch.

• Respect your teammates, coaches, and opponents.

These aren’t negotiable. They’re foundational. And when kids fall short on these, correction is healthy. That’s accountability.

But expecting flawless execution? Expecting a 12-year-old to see the field like Derek Jeter? That’s not accountability. That’s fantasy.

The Cost of Unrealistic Expectations

I’ve seen teams fracture under the weight of expectations. Kids stop talking. They stop smiling. Parents stop cheering and start pacing. Every error feels like a betrayal. Every strikeout feels like wasted money.

The game becomes heavy.

Tom House warned about this:

“Outcomes don’t matter for kids — experiences do. The score will fade, but how they felt will last.” — Tom House

When expectations cross into outcomes, what lasts isn’t the joy of the game. It’s the sting of never measuring up.

The Suspense of Silence

One of the darkest moments on a youth field isn’t the loud yelling. It’s the silence.

A kid walks back to the dugout after striking out. He looks to the stands. His parent won’t even clap. Won’t even look at him. Just shakes their head, arms crossed.

That silence screams louder than any words. It says, “You’re not enough.”

And that’s the moment where the line between accountability and expectation disappears completely.

A Different Model

Tom Seaver talked about consistency, not perfection:

“If you dwell on statistics you get shortsighted; if you aim for consistency, the numbers will be there at the end.” — Tom Seaver

Consistency is where accountability belongs. Play hard every pitch. Learn from mistakes. Build better habits over time.

Expectations demand perfection. Accountability demands effort. And effort, repeated, is what leads to growth.

Closing

The line is thin. The stakes are high. And every word, every look, every reaction from a parent or coach tilts a kid one way or the other.

Accountability builds players who take ownership. Unrealistic expectations build players who walk away.

Part 2 of this series is the warning: if we keep confusing the two, we won’t just lose games. We’ll lose kids.