03 Jun Stewardship That Smiles: Lessons From a Night With the Savannah Bananas
By: Mike Schmitt, The Rubra Group, LLC
Last Friday Angel Stadium in Anaheim felt less like a ballpark and more like a block party. Music boomed, players break‑danced between pitches, and a capacity crowd of forty‑five thousand sang along. My own family, Anne and two of our three girls and a good family friend, laughed, danced, and swapped inside jokes we will cherish for years. That shared joy was not accidental. It was engineered by the Savannah Bananas and their irrepressible version of baseball. In a world where many family enterprises treat fun as an after‑thought, the Bananas remind us that memorable experiences are a strategic asset of stewardship, every bit as valuable as governance documents or balance sheets.
What Makes “Banana Ball” Stick in the Memory Bank
The Bananas’ founder, Jesse Cole, rewrote baseball’s rulebook to create an experience where the fan always wins. Under Banana Ball, every inning is worth one point, games have a strict two‑hour time limit, batters are out if a fan catches a foul ball, and bunting is literally banned. The result is a fast, theater‑rich spectacle that has out‑drawn some Major League match‑ups and sold out major venues, including a two‑game stop in Anaheim on May 30–31 during the 2025 World Tour.
Beyond the clever rules, the Bananas succeed because they place delight at the center of their business model. Players sign autographs mid‑game, the in‑house pep band grooves in the aisles, and every staff member carries authority to solve problems in real time. It is a full‑contact brand of hospitality that converts spectators into raving storytellers.
Memory Capital: An Underrated Metric in Family Stewardship
Stewardship is often described as protecting assets for future generations, yet one of the most durable assets a family can hold is shared emotional memory—what sociologists call “family narrative capital.” Positive memories bolster trust, reinforce values, and make hard conversations about succession or liquidity easier because relatives recall being on the same team. Friday night at the ballpark cost far less than a board retreat, but its return on emotional investment was enormous. When a family laughs together in public, they see each other in a context that transcends titles, ownership percentages, and generational labels. That unity builds resilience the next time the business faces a crisis or a tough strategic trade‑off.
Three Playbook Moves Inspired by the Bananas
- Ritualize Joy, Not Just Governance
Schedule at least one “memory dividend” event per quarter—a concert, a food‑truck picnic, or even a Banana Ball game—where the only agenda is togetherness. Treat it as non‑negotiable board business. - Design Experiences With Everyone in Mind
The Bananas choreograph moments for kids, parents, and grandparents alike. Apply the same lens to company gatherings. Rotate venues, vary formats, and empower younger family members to plan segments so all voices feel valued. - Measure Post‑Event Storytelling
Instead of a dry feedback survey, ask each participant to share the most vivid moment of the day. Collate those stories and circulate them internally. The richness of retelling becomes a leading indicator of family cohesion.
Call to Action: Turn Fun Into a Governance Habit
Summer is here, and the Bananas’ tour is proof that families crave experiences that mix playfulness with purpose. Open your calendar and earmark one event in the next sixty days that will feed your family’s soul. If you need ideas, check the Bananas’ schedule or pick an activity that reflects your own heritage—think county fair, music festival, or a simple backyard movie night.
As trusted stewards, we manage capital, strategy, and risk. Yet the legacy that survives our tenure lives in the stories children tell long after the spreadsheets are archived. Moments like last Friday are not distractions from serious work; they are the lifeblood of it. Plan them with the same rigor you bring to board meetings, and you will compound memory capital that pays dividends for generations.
When joy becomes intentional, stewardship stops feeling like a duty and starts looking like a dance—sometimes even on top of a dugout, with a banana‑yellow jersey and a stadium full of new friends cheering you on.
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