That's at least how things got started for Jerry Jones '69. A friend at church talked him into signing up his son, and pretty soon he was helping with coaching. What's unusual is that now, 18 years later, Jerry is still at it.

"My kids played until they were about 15, and then I stopped," Jerry says. "But then the other kids kept calling me up. Basically, they wouldn't let me quit."

That's not the only unusual part of Jerry's story. The other is where he's chosen to coach all these years-in the Harbor Area of Los Angeles.

"It's an unincorporated area that's part of L.A.," Jerry says. "It's really industrial, high-density, low-income, there's a lot of government housing. It's sort of a breeding ground for drug dealers and gangs, and the kids live in and around these housing projects."

Many families have four or five kids each, and often both parents work minimum wage jobs, or one is on drugs or in prison. To make sure the kids can play, Jerry bought a van, and every week he drives from his home in nearby Torrance to pick them up for games and practices. "I figure every hour I keep them off the streets, they're just a little safer."  

Every year, he starts with twelve or so players, ages 13 to 15. About 80 percent are Hispanic, and most are boys. Once the team is formed, word begins to spread about Coach Jerry.

"This has been a pretty typical year. I start with a dozen, and by the end of the season I have about 30. The kids like playing on my team, so they invite a friend, or a cousin, or a neighbor. So when there are too many, I split them into two teams, and then three."

He recruits friends to help, and so he always has a staff of four or five people. He also finds two to three dozen people he knows to sponsor players who can't afford it on their own.

Ground Rules

Jerry sticks to a basic coaching strategy. Players have to follow the rules. (First offense, pulled from the game. Second offense, pulled from the game, serve as bat boy. Third offense, off the team.) He focuses on his second string in practice and gives them a lot of playing time, which adds a depth that pays off by the end of the season. And most importantly, he looks for individual strengths, and then develops them.

"I find out what they're good at, and then I tell them that by the end of the season, they'll be the best in the league at that," he says. "We don't worry about winning; winning usually follows."

Criticism is not allowed on Coach Jerry's team. "A kid who goes up to bat isn't afraid of striking out as much as he's scared of what the other kids will say. So if you eliminate that, then the kids try, and find success." On top of that, he also individualizes the way he treats each player. "Some need a kick in the butt. With others it's better to talk to them gently and just sort of pat them on the back."

In addition to a more-than full time job, Jerry spends about 30 hours a week on coaching. In sunny California, the season lasts all year, and the only months he takes off are August and December. Why make such an effort?

Probably because he just gets a kick out of the difference it makes. Of course, there are painful moments. In February, he attended the funeral for a 16-year-old he coached who got caught in the crossfire of a drive-by shooting. It was Jerry's third murdered player in 18 years. He estimates another 20 to 25 of his kids have done time in a juvenile detention center. However, the occasional trials and setbacks are a small price to pay compared to seeing his players' lives change for the better.

For instance, when Jerry started coaching ages 13-15, he had a lot of good athletes, but only one or two a year who could keep up their grades enough to go on to play high school. That's changed now. Last year, nine of the 36 players on the all-star team for area high school seniors played under Jerry in Little League, and every one of them was going to college.

Alfonzo Valdez came to see Coach Jerry at the ball field a short while ago. After Little League, Alfonzo went on to set the home run record at his high school, and he got a scholarship from the University of San Francisco. However, he also had a $400,000 offer to go pro for the Arizona Diamondbacks. Jerry knew money for Alfonzo's family was an issue, but pointed out that he could take some business classes in college. That way, if he went pro he could make sure his agent didn't rip him off, and if he got injured, he'd have something to fall back on.

"Last fall, he sent me a postcard from the University of San Francisco," Jerry says. "That made me feel pretty good."

Jerry takes it as a compliment when players come see him. They introduce him to their fiancées, or tell him how he was one of the only people who actually tried to make a difference in their lives. Former player Nacho Sanchez, who now owns a tree-trimming business, recently did about $1,000 worth of work at the ball fields. When Jerry asked him what he owed him, he said, "My nephews are playing for you. Just coach them like you coached us."

At Dodger Stadium

Every year, Jerry takes his players to the L.A. city championship game at Dodger Stadium, where they sit behind home plate.

"The kids will always ask me, 'Did any of those guys play for you, Coach Jerry?' And I'll say, 'Oh, a couple. Let's see, the first baseman, the pitcher, the catcher,' and I'll list off six or seven players. 'And you know what?' I'll say, 'They kind of remind me of you. When they paid attention and tried hard, they were pretty good. And when they didn't, they didn't do so well! But in two or three years, I expect to watch you out there.'"

They're quiet for a moment or two thinking about that. Then Jerry will smile and say, "And remember, when you play for the Dodgers, I want box seats at all home games, and a convertible."

"You know what, Coach Jerry?" one of the kids asks. "One of these days, you'll have a convertible for every day of the week."