Choreography in baseball? Savannah Bananas first base coach can dance to that
The baseball part of the job was tricky at first. Shortly after Maceo Harrison took over as first-base coach for the Savannah Bananas, he ran onto the field when the other team was at bat.
“I was like, oh no,” he recalls. “Let me go back.”
Don’t blame Harrison for getting confused. He says: “I did not know a lick about baseball.”
The Bananas hired him for a different prowess. The college summer league team, famous for blurring the line between sports and entertainment, needed something extra for its odd mix of fan contests, comedy stunts and kitschy performances between innings.
“I always wanted a breakdancing first-base coach,” says franchise owner Jesse Cole, who runs around the stands in a yellow tuxedo. “It was a dream of mine.”
As a professional dancer who studied hip hop at the Joffrey Ballet School, Harrison had the moves — the spins, flips and freezes — to put on a show. As an instructor, the 27-year-old could choreograph and teach the short routines that players do on the field.
His personality — always upbeat, joking, laughing — was a plus.
“I just brought my own weirdness and crazy tricks,” he says. “That’s why I’m here.”
In addition to maintaining a full roster of players and coaches, Savannah employs a pep band, singing princess and team magician. The first hip-hop coach was Darius Johnson, who came aboard in 2017. Johnson persuaded Harrison — they had danced together — to be the Bananas’ mascot, “Split.”
“Anytime you put the uniform on and you come out here in front of fans, you’re on stage. You’ve got to be in that energy the whole time.”
— Maceo Harrison
It was sweaty work, donning a yellow costume with a giant head in the Georgia heat, but Harrison liked the buzz of the crowd and getting asked for autographs. Then, in 2019, Johnson headed off to college.
Transitioning to the first-base box proved easy for Harrison in terms of performing and choreography. Working with the players, especially the new ones, was a different story. As first baseman Dan Oberst says: “You don’t want to see me dance.”
The routines last only a minute or so, but there isn’t much lead time. Harrison has a few hours before games to show players their moves and rehearse with them.
Keeping it simple is a must. Start with a few step-touches, add hand movements, then a slide or two. Baseball players aren’t so graceful when it comes to swaying their hips, but they understand the concept of effort.
“Anytime you put the uniform on and you come out here in front of fans, you’re on stage,” Harrison tells them. “You’ve got to be in that energy the whole time.”
Veterans who return to the team for a second or third season start to get the hang of it. Before a recent game in Kansas City, some of them anticipate the combinations Harrison is teaching and ask for more-sophisticated steps.
Sometimes the coach spots them in the clubhouse afterward, watching dance videos on their phones, practicing moves in front of their lockers.
“Once that uniform comes on, it’s like Disney. You’re right in that character. The funny thing is, I’m always Disney.”
— Maceo Harrison
“I definitely used to be on the more-shy side, never considered myself a dancer or singer or actor or anything like that,” pitcher Kyle Luigs says. “We’re having fun.”
Not that any of this pleases baseball traditionalists, the ones who post on social media, accusing the Bananas of ruining America’s pastime.
“Everybody has their own opinion and I respect everybody’s opinion,” Harrison says. “But my personal opinion is that we’re bringing [new fans] … it’s OK to be different.”
As for actual coaching, that remains a work in progress.
Each day brings another baseball lesson, including a hard foul ball to the ankle that taught Harrison to stay alert in the coach’s box. For now, his duties are limited to alerting baserunners when he believes the pitcher is attempting a pickoff.
“I know for a fact that, for a first-base coach, it’s all about giving signals, whether to steal, whether to stay,” he says. “I don’t do any of the signs.”
Much like the players keep their focus mainly on baseball, Harrison knows what he is paid to do.
“Once that uniform comes on, it’s like Disney. You’re right in that character,” he says. “The funny thing is, I’m always Disney.”
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