By the top of the 2nd inning, we were up 7-0, and my son, Samson, was shutting down the home team's batters as quick as they stepped up to the plate.

The final score was 18-0, and I couldn't help but wonder how that happened.

How could the difference in scores be so dramatic?

This was an All-Star game, so each team was composed of boys who'd been hand-picked based on their performance in the regular season.

There were no scrubs on either team.

Size-wise, they matched up well. Both teams had one or two tall kids, one or two short kids, and the rest were average in height and weight.

All the players had similar bats, gloves, helmets, and uniforms.

Visually, the teams were interchangeable, yet our boys' performance was far superior.

At brunch afterward, my daughter, Lu Lu, and I were talking about the game when I mentioned something about the other team's coach.

"I don't think I saw their coach," she said.

That's when it hit me.

Our coaches - all three of them - were highly visible. Dressed in the same jerseys as the boys, you'd find one at first base, one at third, and another in the dugout at all times. They constantly talked to the team, made minor adjustments to fielding positions, and encouraged the players.

LOTS of encouragement.

By contrast, the other teams' coaches dressed in street clothes. And although their head coach took his spot at first when they were up to bat, his words of direction or encouragement were few and far between.

Lu Lu was surprised when I described their coach. We were sitting along the first base line, so he'd been right in front of us at the top of every inning.

"Oh," she said, "THAT GUY was the coach?"

Now, let me say this. I appreciate the hell out of the men who step up to coach. Without them, of course, there would be no little league. My point here is not to bash, belittle, or hate on another coach.

But what a difference the coaches make!

The team with the active & engaged coaches scored 18 runs.

The team with the coaches who just stood there?

Zero runs.

Same boys, same bats, same gloves, same uniforms.

But, very different inputs.

Later in the day, I was scrolling through Instagram, where my feed is mostly about athletes, nutrition, performance, biohacking, and that sort of thing.

Every third post is an ad for a coach or a program that claims to have the secret to peak performance.

Many of these programs are bullshit, and many of these coaches are full of shit.

And yet, they have tens of thousands of followers.

The boys, they get no choice. They can no more pick their coach than their parents, so they're stuck with those inputs.

The rest of us, though, have a choice.

Whether it's social media, television, radio, or whatever else, we get to decide our input.

And, given the importance of the outcome, it's a decision worthy of careful thought.