Two outs. Bases loaded. The next pitch could determine whether you win or lose.
As a baseball parent, you know the feeling. Your insides are twisting around as the ball is delivered. You might close your eyes.
Last October, Chelsea Freeman even heard her own words in her head.
Just please don’t strike out.
Chelsea is the wife of a major league player, and she is often the one living these at-bats at youth baseball games with their oldest son, Charlie. But this time, she was talking about her husband, Freddie, during his most famous World Series at-bat.
“I was freaking out,” she tells USA TODAY Sports, “because I know how injured he was, where a lot of people didn’t really know. He’s having trouble getting out of bed in the morning – I’m pulling him out of bed – and limping to the bathroom. So I was more nervous, because it’s not the normal Freddie.”
Then he swung and parked Nestor Cortes’ first pitch into the right field pavilion to win Game 1 of the World Series.
“Luckily, it was one pitch, and everyone went nuts,” Chelsea says. “I kind of blacked out after that.”
It was an emotional release for a family that, just about three months earlier, was enduring their 3-year-old son’s sudden and scary illness that took Freeman away from the Dodgers.
“There was a point, like, if Max didn’t get better, I don’t know if Freddie would have gone back to playing,” Chelsea Freeman says. “So Max getting better in itself is a miracle and then for Freddie to be able to finish the way that he did … I feel like we needed that.”
Like us, the Freemans throw themselves into these moments where the strains of life and sports converge. They laugh. They cry. And they wonder what is going to happen next.
They contemplate whether Maximus, now recovering from Guillain-Barré syndrome, is ready to play Little League with his twin brother, Brandon, or if Charlie, 8, is too young to play all the games stacked up on his schedule.
“It just seems like it’s so intense, but everyone else is doing it,” Chelsea Freeman says. “So it’s kind of a whole new thing. … We’re kind of the same as every other parent. We’re trying to navigate the travel baseball.”
USA TODAY Sports spoke with Freeman, 33, through her association with OFF! Mosquito and Tick Repellant and Little League, about her family’s sports journey.
It’s one that began under a single dad who guided his son to the majors, and it is rooted in a shared love for the time they spend together through sports we all can appreciate.
‘An outlet to escape real life’: How baseball, like sports, can hold your family together
Los Angeles seized Game 1 – and the World Series, really – over the New York Yankees on Freeman’s 10th-inning grand slam. After he lumbered around the bases and crossed home plate at Dodger Stadium, he went right to his father, Fred, who was sitting behind home plate.
A net got in the way of a hug, but, as they touched hands and arms, all they needed was a shared moment of recognition.
“My swing is because of him, my approach is because of him, I am who I am because of him,” Freeman would say later, his thoughts drifting back to the baseball fields and batting cages of nearby Orange County.
Fred’s goal wasn’t for his youngest son to make the major leagues, but for him to experience the bus rides with teammates, to make lasting friends, to perhaps have a shot at playing in college. Most importantly, he wanted him to feel a love for a sport flow through him and make everything better.
Freddie just wanted to be with his dad, especially after his mom, Rosemary, died of melanoma when the boy was 10.
“They already played baseball,” Chelsea Freeman says, “but that was something that was kind an outlet for them to escape real life and just enjoy time together and get their mind off of everything. So I feel like Freddie said that when his mom passed away, him and his dad bonded so much over baseball and really went all in. And they are like, so close, like, best friends.”
Those times took on added significance last summer, when they all were at a hospital. Max had been rushed there and was fighting for his life with a rare neurological condition in which the body’s immune system attacks the nerves.
“We weren’t sure if he was gonna make it that one night,” Fred Freeman told Fox last year. “And Freddie was there and was able to keep everything together. What I’ve seen in him, with Max, what’s happened to him, he’s a lot better father than I was. He’s really special.”
Don’t underestimate the value of the quality time we spend together through sports
Freddie, now 35, had seen how his dad managed three boys’ lives during the most difficult time of his own. “I don’t know how he balanced it,” Chelsea says.
Freddie only played Little League. Until he was 12, he didn’t play travel ball. His father told him he could only manage to get him to a travel tournament a month with two brothers, Edward and Phillip, who also played baseball.
“But we were working at home,” Chelsea recalls Fred telling her. “He was playing with his brothers. It wasn’t like we weren’t doing baseball.”
Baseball is a game in which endless repetitions give you muscle memory and confidence. It’s also about the conversations you have, and the relationship a parent and child can build through positive reinforcement, during those reps. In an era of farming our kids out to private trainers and coaches, perhaps it’s a point of emphasis we forget.
Freddie got in the habit of calling his dad on the way home from every game. He wants Fred’s opinion on his stance, his swing, his timing. It’s still the most important opinion on them, Chelsea says.
“It’s pretty cool to hear their conversations,” Chelsea says. “Both my parents are English, so I never grew up watching baseball, so I feel like I learned so much from even just listening to his conversations with his dad. And it’s crazy how in tune they are and how well his dad knows Freddie in and out. His dad knows exactly his swing and how to help get him back on track.”
Whatever level you play, you always need a strong support system
Sometimes those conversations reach Chelsea, after Freddie has gone 0-for-3. About 99% of the major leagues, she says, is not glamorous. It’s figuring out how to move on from failure, how to do just enough to succeed three out of 10 times. Her husband has exactly a .300 career average over 15 seasons.
“Freddie is the most dedicated person I know,” his wife says. ‘He takes it so seriously, which is a blessing and a curse. If he’s 0-for-3, he’s probably not gonna talk that night very much. He’s redoing every pitch in his brain, what he should have done differently and how to improve for next time. He has, like, a photographic memory, so he remembers pitches. But I feel that’s what makes him so good, is that he makes adjustments in his head, even when he fails to know how to be better for the next at-bat.
“He wants to be perfection. So it’s always just keep going. You need good support at home, because mentally, it’s a draining sport. So there’s always, like, a couple times a year where I’ll have to kind of give him a pep talk because you need someone. Everyone, if you’re the best in the world, you need someone. Sometimes you doubt yourself. And sometimes, all it is, is in your brain. Get a little motivation in your brain, and then things click.”
She wonders sometimes if it’s all too much for 8-year-old Charlie. He has three practices a week and two to five games per weekend in Southern California.
COACH STEVE: Is it worth it? 10 questions athletes should consider if they play on a travel team
She thinks about a day that’s fast approaching when, with her husband away, she’ll have to manage three sons’ games like Fred did. When we are in a similar situation, we can check ourselves to make sure we are still getting that time with our kids.
It’s what can help sustain our relationships when the sports path ends.
“We’re traveling nonstop,” Chelsea says. “We’re not super strict. If he misses practices, he misses practices. Charlie doesn’t have a normal life. Freddie will take him to the field and work with him in the cage. That one-on-one time, even just with your dad, is probably more important sometimes than spending all this time on like, crazy schedules of travel.
“Like Freddie always says, like, he’s so good because his dad invested so much time with him throwing him batting practice. … Right now, Charlie’s having fun, so it’s great, but I think if it gets to a point where it’s not fun anymore, that’s where you kind of have to re-evaluate. … I think as long as we give them every opportunity to be the best player that they could be (but) there’s no like, you have to be a baseball player … Charlie, I mean, it’s trending. It looks good right now.”
‘You remember how your parents were at games’
She is laughing now. We all get this twinge of hopefulness for the future when we see our kids succeed at sports.
Before Max got sick, she remembers how he was “hitting bombs” off Freddie when father pitched to son.
Then in July, he was paralyzed from the neck down, and he has had to relearn everything.
“He has incredible hand-eye coordination,” she says. “He’s slowly coming back. He’s actually into golf right now. (The) baseball swing’s a little tricky, but I think on T-ball, he’d be fine.”
They are celebrating that they are all out there, that she and her father-in-law can sit and watch Charlie play, and look forward to doing so with his brothers soon.
A goal this spring was to get her youngest two sons off their iPads. Perhaps through the energy she draws from her new initiative to get more kids outside, she has succeeded.
But there is something else that fuels the Freemans in their sports.
It’s what motivated Freddie to get back to his team after Max pulled through last season and to push through his own ankle and rib injuries. It’s what pushes him to play maybe another five years, which Chelsea says is his goal.
It’s knowing that whatever they do, and whatever happens, they’ll all be experiencing it together.
“You remember how your parents were at your games and all of that,’ Chelsea says. ‘Parents also have to remember that … most likely they’re not gonna be a professional athlete. You know, the 1% does, but not all of them. So it’s just support them and just give them every opportunity they can to thrive, but it’s OK if they don’t.”
Steve Borelli, aka Coach Steve, has been an editor and writer with USA TODAY since 1999. He spent 10 years coaching his two sons’ baseball and basketball teams. He and his wife, Colleen, are now sports parents for two high schoolers. His column is posted weekly. For his past columns, click here.