Parris Island Pinstripes: How the Marine Background of Coaching Legend Monte Sherrill “Changed the Game”

Monte Sherrill is one of the most successful softball coaches in the sport today and he admits that much of what he has accomplished can be traced to his six-year background in the Marines.

“If I had to hold my hat on only one thing that has affected my programs the most, it is the influence of the Marine Corps,” he once wrote. “Our teams might be made up of (young) females, but these girls would do well in the U.S. Marines in any situation or job. The espirit de corps, the chain of command, wearing the uniform with pride, the code of conduct, and their overall ability to perform under pressure has been the staple of every team.” 

In his career, Sherrill has compiled a 910-97 record—a .904 overall winning percentage in the three decades on the softball fields—which includes a 158-37 mark (.810) at Pfeiffer College, a Division III school in Misenhiemer, North Carolina.

It’s in that state, too, where he was a high school coaching legend, having won 10 state titles and, amazingly, captured 30 straight conference or national titles: 26 at the high school level, primarily at Alexander Central High, and also four at Pfeiffer where he played baseball.

Sherrill was in the Marines from 1984 to 1990 when he was honorably discharged after earning five promotions in less than three years. He held the positions of Supply Infantryman and Squad Leader, among others.

Among the 64 student-athletes he’s developed who went on to play at the collegiate level, one was his daughter, Vada Blue Sherrill, who he coached at Pfeiffer. Vada Blue just capped off her prolific career being named recently as an NFCA Div. II All-American after she batted .482 with 75 runs, 67 hits, 15 homers, and 58 RBIs in 43 games. She also went 52-for-56 in steals.

Another standout player he coached at Alexander Central on the National Championship team in 2014 was another daughter, Bailey Sherrill, who works for the NJCAA and just recently finished coordinating the DI Softball JC National Championship in St. George, Utah.

An outstanding writer, we asked Bailey to pay tribute to her father and his accomplishments on this Memorial Day… this is what she wrote!

*****

His black bangs and chin-length hair were local little league legends.

Packed under a baseball hat, Dad’s kid-to-teen hairdo rivaled the game’s greatest Madison Bum and Johnny Damon-esque locks. But this wasn’t a suave style statement. See, he grew up in a house where you made do with a little. You didn’t complain or ask for a handout – or a haircut; no, you worked with your own devices and abilities.

Baseball provided the perfect haven for this boy with an arm and an attitude. He had grit. He had gumption – almost too much of it. But most of all, he loved the game.

Dad says that he wanted the ball more than anyone else on either side, always. The stocky-statured spitfire would run from short to right field for a fly ball, and sprint across second base to stop a shot up the middle.

On the diamond, he was in control. He could control which balls he swung at; he could dive after balls that tried to outlast his legs; and he could outshine the errors or lackluster effort made around him.

Home was a different story. There, he was at the mercy of his surroundings and circumstances.

His parents were furniture factory workers. They worked ‘round the clock. Dad, as the oldest of four boys, raised his brothers in the meantime. That included his brother Brian, whose infantile measles vaccine left him severely mentally handicapped.

They didn’t have much; well, hardly anything due to the cost of Brian’s sky-high medicine bills.

One thing Dad did have was a glove. And when he hit the field, he knew, “It was the one place where being poor or rich didn’t matter. It was where I could show everyone how good I was; the one place that I could out-work, out-hustle, and out-perform everyone else.”

That he did.

As the years passed and the brothers got older, Brian became the target of crude jokes. Dad – as you could imagine – would have none of that. He took the duty of protecting his brothers, Brian specifically, as something sacred. When his track record for getting into knock-their-lights-out varietal fights failed, Dad turned to the glove. Like always.

Hitting the dirt with a renewed sense of purpose – fighting for Brian in a different way – Dad’s high school baseball career brought him a solid batting average and college offers too. One of those came from a small school near Salisbury, North Carolina called Pfeiffer College.

He received a sizeable baseball scholarship to the school and, paired with the profit from the family tobacco field plot his parents sold, it was enough to get him there.

But the road to Pfeiffer wasn’t just about baseball. He did attend, enroll in classes, make lifelong friends, and play for a legendary coach at the college for four years… he also enlisted in the Marine Reserves.

Now that, that is what changed the game.

His time at Parris Island—the recruit depot in Port Royal, South Carolina—and a stint in California for survival training transformed the small-town, raging-emotions 18-year-old.

Much like the baseball field, entering into Parris Island was like a sanctuary of sorts. There, he learned how to harness his emotions, channel his innate leadership abilities, receive respect based upon his earned rank, and – most of all – truly become part of a brotherhood and team unit.

In that place, he learned to die to self and live for others.

The Semper Fi spirit in his veins didn’t run dry after his time of active duty. No, this strapping blue-eyed boy of Hiddenite, North Carolina, finished up his baseball career, graduated, and immediately entered the coaching arena as a 23-year-old high school teacher.

He opted for baseball initially. Predictable choice, of course. But when the softball position laid empty with no takers, he shifted gears and agreed to “try it out.”

Over three decades and 900 wins later, he’s still there – coaching softball.

However, it isn’t just the .904 career winning percentage, trophy case of 10 North Carolina Class 4A high school state championships, or his success on the collegiate softball field that sets him apart from the pack.

No, it’s the way he’s done it. As he often quotes throughout a practice – most especially those that include bobbled balls, missed cuts, and poles as punishment – “it’s all about the process.”

For those of you who haven’t seen him at work, his teams run like a platoon of Marines. They begin the season just like those fresh recruits bused into Parris Island.

Players are valued for their individuality and specialized talent, yes, but every member is treated equally and given equal doses of respect by all members. Each time the team hits the field, every member wears the same uniform. The shirttail is tucked. A black belt and black hair tie are secured. Hats are required, and pant legs are worn long.

On game day, eye black is applied and respect is shown for our nation’s flag until the “play ball” directive is yelled – not a single twitch, side glance, or swatted fly allowed during the anthem.

Dad runs a tight ship that demands respect, dedication, and selflessness of his players – no exceptions given. But this method works.

His teams study film and leadership books in a classroom setting. They apply them on the infield dirt. His teams run when a freshman fails to execute a play – an extra pole for the senior leadership who failed to instruct that greenie.

They hash out conflict and resentment while catching their breath on the warning track. His teams stretch, jog, and take infield in unison. They do this when it doesn’t seem to matter and when facing the enemy.

They are a unit.

Coach Monte Sherrill is known for his attention to detail. His programs are distinguished by their discipline, fundamentally-sound methods, and lack of losses. That’s the way he likes it.

But behind the clean, crisp lines of stretching routines and pinstripe uniforms are young ladies who, over four years, gain the confidence, ability, and strength needed for the road that lies ahead.

Just like Dad learned as a Little Leaguer and a Private in the Marine Corps, there will always be uncontrollables. Those uncontrollable variables will hit you and knock you down. But, if you expect the unexpected and lay aside your own selfish desires, you won’t just survive; you’ll thrive.

Today, my Uncle Brian sits in a chair to put his favorite cowboy boots on – one at a time. Dad steals a sock and props it on Brian’s head. The two laugh together when Brian finds it and waves his hands up and down in excitement. It’s a deep bond built over a lifetime.

You and I, we just can’t help but admire it.

My dad isn’t known for his heart. But all along, it has led him to all his successes on the ball field.

I played under him for seven years. All seven years, I watched. I watched him, and other coaches too. While you may call me partial – and let’s just say that I am – but I found his unrelenting demand for near-perfection was the agent that harvested the deep bonds between girls and our ability to withstand our individual circumstances.

His standards of excellence aren’t a hammer to break his players down, it’s a bar to raise them up.

After all, once a Marine, always a Marine.

— Bailey Sherrill