From Curve Balls to Chords | Mike Drew
Mike Drew grew up on the same Los Gatos Little League fields where he now spends his evenings coaching other people’s kids. He was the classic “baseball kid” of a baseball town. Shortstop. Second base. Starting pitcher with a live arm and handwritten goals taped where he could see them.
He did the work. He had the talent. He had letters from places like San Diego State and even Duke. Then, right before his senior year, everything changed.
Not during a big game.
Not on an overloaded pitch count.
In a car accident.
His right elbow, his pitching elbow, was injured. In an instant, the straight line he had always imagined for himself disappeared. For a teenage athlete whose whole identity is wrapped up in a sport, that kind of disruption is huge. Mike remembers thinking, very clearly, that he would not reach the dream he had held since he was a little boy.
What he did with that moment is what makes his story so powerful for parents, young athletes, and coaches today.
Growing Up On The Mound
Mike was born and raised in Los Gatos, California. He played Los Gatos Little League with coaches he still speaks about with real affection. He went on to play at Los Gatos High School and Saratoga High School. His main positions were shortstop, second base, and pitcher.
On the mound he was a starter, not a reliever. That meant a lot of pitches, a lot of innings, and a lot of trust from his coaches. Even as a teenager he understood that balance points and pitching fundamentals mattered. His arm was his future, and he treated it that way.
Then came the car accident and the elbow injury. This was not overuse from baseball. It was pure bad luck at the worst possible time. College interest changed. Scholarships disappeared. The plan he had in his head was gone.
What kept him from walking away entirely was the support around him. Family and coaches stepped in and helped him rebuild a new plan. They reminded him of other athletes who had gone through adversity and still moved forward. He went back to his paper and pen, wrote down new goals, and decided he would find another way.
For him, that “other way” started at West Valley College.
What Pitching Does To A Young Arm
When we talk about pitching and arm health, most people jump straight to adult injuries, like rotator cuff tears or UCL tears. Those can certainly happen, but in younger athletes the story is different.
In growing kids, the shoulder and elbow still have open growth plates. Those areas have not fully fused yet. They are more vulnerable to stress. That means a lot of throwing can irritate those growth plates and lead to inflammation and even subtle fractures. At that age, the problem often sits in the bone and the growth plate itself, not just in the tendons and ligaments.
This is why pitch counts matter. It is also why simply asking, “How does your arm feel?” does not tell the whole story. A motivated twelve or fourteen year old will almost always say, “I’m fine.”
Before Today’s Pitch Counts
Mike grew up in an era when pitch counts technically existed, but nobody lived by them the way we try to now.
He remembers it as a very simple check-in: “How do you feel, Mike? Shoulder feel good today? Okay, go get them.”
There were no YouTube highlight reels, no social media clips for college coaches to scroll through. If you were not on the field and on the mound, you basically did not exist in the recruiting world. There was a lot of pressure to be seen, and the only way to be seen was to play.
Area Code tournaments were just starting to pop up. These were early versions of what we might now call showcase or travel environments. You could only attend if your high school coach nominated you. Because there was no regular travel ball structure, those tournaments were one of the only big stages for college attention.
So the equation became very simple: if you are not pitching, you are not being evaluated. That mindset kept a lot of kids on the mound longer than they probably should have been.
Little League And Travel Ball: Two Different Worlds
Now Mike is on the other side of the fence. He is the Coaching Director for Los Gatos Little League. He is also a travel ball dad with two sons who pitch.
He describes Little League as a hometown, community-based experience. Kids play with their classmates. Families sit together in the stands. The goal is still to compete, but also to build friendships and memories in your own town.
Travel ball feels very different. It is intense. There is a lot of emphasis on winning, on performance, and even on appearance. Uniforms, bats, tournaments every weekend. It can be exciting and fun. It can also become a year-round machine that is hard to step out of.
On top of that, many kids are now playing for more than one travel team. They might be on a Little League team, a travel team, and then fill in at a tournament for another roster. Yes, people talk about pitch counts. But nobody is truly counting the total number of throws in a week when you add warmups, other positions, football in the park, and all the “just playing catch” moments.
From an orthopedic standpoint, the shoulder and elbow do not care which team name is on the jersey. They only know how much stress you are placing on them. That is the piece we still have not figured out as a youth sports culture.
Using Injury As An Opportunity
After his elbow injury, Mike went to West Valley College instead of the four-year program he had pictured. At the time, it felt like a step down. Looking back, it was one of the best things that happened to his career.
A coach at West Valley told him, “You’re lucky. You have a great opportunity to get better right now.” That line stuck.
At West Valley, Mike had the time and environment to:
Rehabilitate his elbow properly.
Commit to a real strength program with weights.
Change his mechanics so he used his lower body more and stopped throwing “with all arm.”
The results were dramatic. After his injury and all that work, he was throwing five to six miles per hour harder than he had in high school. He became a different pitcher with a stronger body.
Relationships mattered, too. His pitching coach at West Valley later took a job in eastern Tennessee, at Lincoln Memorial University. That connection opened the door for Mike to keep playing. He wrote letters like everyone else, but in the end he chose to follow a coach he trusted to a completely new part of the country.
It is a good reminder for young athletes that the path to college sports is rarely a straight line. Junior college, different divisions, and strong relationships with coaches can all keep that door open, even after a setback.
The Reality Of College Baseball
When Mike arrived in Tennessee, he quickly realized how serious four-year college baseball really is.
The schedule was intense. Off-season days started at 5:30 in the morning with weight training and running in the freezing cold for an hour. After that, the team pulled the tarp off the field together, got in a short practice, and then everyone headed off to class by 8 am. This was not a Monday through Friday schedule. It was every day, including weekends.
Like many athletes, Mike assumed that going from junior college to a Division II program might feel easier. Instead, he found himself surrounded by even more talented players at every position. Every year and every level brought new competition.
It was in that environment that he had another honest conversation with himself. Watching teammates who were pouring every second of every day into baseball, he realized he no longer wanted the major leagues badly enough to live that way. Other parts of life were calling to him: friendships, music, school, a future outside of the game.
He still trained hard. He still tried to be the best pitcher he could be. But his long-term dream had shifted, and he knew it.
That change did not mean his career was a failure. In fact, the road from injury to Tennessee showed him that he could work through adversity and reach a high level of the sport. It also gave him the confidence to walk away when the season of life changed.
The Last Game
Mike’s coach in Tennessee understood where his heart was. For his final game, that coach gave him the start. The game itself was fun. He competed. He did what he had done his whole life.
The real emotion came afterwards. Standing there, he realized that not long ago, his ultimate goal had been the major leagues, and now the day-to-day grind of working toward that dream was ending.
For any athlete, that transition hits hard. So much of your routine, your motivation, and your identity lives in the daily work. When that stops, it can feel like a loss, even if you made the choice.
Baseball Never Really Left
After college, Mike came home.
He moved straight into coaching. He helped his friend start CCB, one of the first travel ball programs in the area. He coached their first teams, then eventually shifted into other work while staying active as a youth coach. Today, as Coaching Director for Los Gatos Little League, he is deeply involved in shaping how baseball feels for hundreds of kids in his hometown.
He will tell you very honestly that he loves baseball more than anything. Not the stats or the trophies, but the habits, the friendships, and the passion it gave him. Coaching is his way of passing that forward.
Being Both Dad And Coach
Mike and his wife Jill have three children. Two of them play baseball. Coaching your own kids can be one of the greatest joys and one of the hardest balancing acts.
He admits there are days when he is panicking about how to get to the field on time. But once he steps onto the grass with his boys, he feels like there is nothing better. Some days they love having him as their coach. Other days they tell him they do not want him to coach next year. That is normal, and hearing it from other coaches in the same situation helps.
He tries to remember that he is dad first and coach second. On the field, that means communicating well not just with his kids but with every player and with the other coaches. Sometimes that even means letting another coach take the lead with his sons so they see him as dad again, not just as the guy correcting them.
He also keeps coming back to his own memories. As a player, you remember the fun, the big plays, and the feeling of being trusted. You do not want those memories crowded out by constant mechanical criticism or tension with a parent on the sideline.
For that reason, he tries to hold off on corrections in the middle of everything. Talking about mechanics in front of everyone, while emotions are high, usually does more harm than good. Waiting until his child comes to him makes the conversation easier and more effective.
Helping Kids Play Their Best Without Crushing The Joy
Parents often ask some version of the same question: how do you let your child have fun while still encouraging them to play at a high level?
For Mike, the answer starts with expectations. Not expectations for that one game or that one practice, but for the future.
Long term, he hopes his boys love the sport enough to want to play in college or beyond. Short term, he tries to let each practice and game be as fun and low-pressure as possible. The focus is on getting a little better at one thing and building the relationship between player and team, not on the scoreboard.
He is very clear that there will be a time later, in high school or college, when coaches will be demanding and performance will matter in real time. Youth baseball does not have to feel like that. At this age, kids need repetition, confidence, and the ability to process mistakes in a positive environment.
Sideline Advice For Parents
Sidelines are where a lot of damage can be done, even with good intentions.
Mike’s advice is simple and hard at the same time: do your best not to shout things from the stands. That includes instructions, reminders, and even constant praise yelled into the field.
Why? Because kids need room to become their own player. They are not usually thinking about where, exactly, they should be standing. They are thinking, “I want to make this play because it is going to look awesome.” They need to experience that without a running commentary from the bleachers.
When a game goes badly and your child is upset, the timing of your words matters as much as the content. The best moment often is not right after the last out, when emotions are raw. Sometimes it is later, in the car, with a gentle, “How do you think it went today?” Some kids will talk more if you stay quiet. Others need a small invitation. Knowing your child’s style is key.
What they almost never need in that moment is a breakdown of their mechanics or a list of everything that went wrong. Often, the best thing you can say is, “Want to go grab a bite?” Just suggesting ice cream or dinner tells them, without any speech, that the game is over and your relationship is bigger than what just happened on the field.
The Model He Grew Up With
Mike’s approach is shaped by his own upbringing. His dad was a professional baseball player and a very knowledgeable coach. He was positive, demanding in the right ways, and always gave grace.
Around age eleven or twelve, Mike decided he wanted more independence. He told his dad he wanted to “do things on my own now.” His dad listened and stepped back. Other coaches stepped forward. That transition was important. It gave Mike ownership of his own game and kept his relationship with his dad strong.
Now he sees the same thing happening with his own son at a similar age, and he recognizes the moment.
One Sport Or Many?
In addition to baseball, Mike also played basketball at a high level in high school. His whole family was a baseball family, but his personal passion leaned heavily toward basketball. He loved the speed, the physical contact, and the chance to get his energy and aggression out in a different way.
He never played football, though he always loved watching it. Basketball became his outlet. It was also a natural complement to his baseball skills. The lateral movement and quickness he developed on the basketball court helped him as a shortstop and in other positions on the baseball field.
Because of that experience, his advice to today’s families is straightforward: let kids play as many sports as they reasonably can. Yes, schedules are hard. Yes, the carpool calendar can feel like a full-time job. But from both a physical and mental standpoint, it is healthy.
Travel ball can be great for development, but the year-round nature of it can quietly push other sports out of the picture. When I talk to young athletes about cross training in the clinic, some of them look at me as if it is a completely foreign concept. That is a sign of how narrow the focus has become.
Mike’s story is a good reminder that there is more than one path to being happy and successful. He could have gone all in on basketball and likely been very content. He chose baseball and was happy with that too. The important part is that kids know life is not over if one sport does not work out.
When Baseball Leads To Music
As baseball moved into the background, another love moved into the foreground for Mike: music.
In eastern Tennessee, he started spending time in honky tonks, watching musicians on stage. He saw the joy, the energy, and the connection they created, and thought, “That looks really fun. I think I want to do that.”
He had played piano since he was a boy. He sang in his room, quietly, not really wanting anyone to know how much he loved it. He was already a fan of country music, especially artists like Tim McGraw and Kenny Chesney. The fiddle, the storytelling, the 80s and 90s sound, all of it drew him in.
By his mid-teens he was taking the long narratives he wrote on paper and turning them into songs. Many of those early songs are still in his band’s set list today.
One of them, “Maybe It’s the Whiskey,” was written during his first week in Tennessee. It came from a night at a rodeo with his roommate, looking up at an orange sky and realizing that, in a funny way, this new place felt like a second home. That song, and many others, became a new way to use the discipline, storytelling, and performance skills he had developed through baseball.
Today, with the Mike Drew Band, he plays shows locally and beyond, including Nashville. Baseball shaped his habits. Music gives him a place to express them.
What We Can Learn From Mike’s Story
Mike’s journey weaves together the mound, the sidelines, and the stage. It shows how a sudden injury can derail a plan without defining a person. It also gives us a framework for healthier youth sports:
Protect young arms by respecting growth plates and total throwing, not just official pitch counts.
Keep youth sports focused on fun, skill-building, and long-term growth instead of early specialization and constant pressure.
As parents, be present in the stands without being a second coach from the bleachers.
Let kids play more than one sport, and let them discover who they are outside of any game.
Remember that setbacks can lead to new strengths and even new passions.
Most importantly, it reminds us that the goal is not just to raise athletes. It is to raise resilient, grounded humans who can take everything they learned from sport and carry it into the rest of their lives, whether that is on a college field, in a career, on a stage, or sitting in the stands coaching their own children one day.