When Inclusion Means Exclusion: The Somers Baseball Merger Debacle

Recently, Somers Central School District made a bold and exciting move: it voted to use proceeds from a previous bond to upgrade the district’s athletic facilities. We’re talking about a fully turfed, state-of-the-art baseball field that rivals single-A or collegiate-level stadiums, a new turfed softball field, and eight tennis courts. All designed for our students and community to enjoy—especially those who see tennis as the “lifelong sport” (but we’ll save that story for another time).

Fast forward to March 2025, just one month before the spring baseball season kicks off. Suddenly, the Board of Education (BoE) votes on a proposed merger with the North Salem baseball team. Why does North Salem want to merge? Well, we’re sure the multi-million-dollar baseball complex built with Somers taxpayer money has nothing to do with it.

Cue the outrage. Parents, coaches, and community members showed up in force to oppose the merger. Why? Because it could have serious downstream consequences—especially for current 7th, 8th, and 9th graders. Think about it: Somers kids could lose roster spots to out-of-town players. Local athletes could see their playing time slashed to make room for someone from another district.

You’d think, given the heavy taxpayer investment and the clear community sentiment, the BoE would shut this down immediately. Right?

Think again.

Initially, the merger didn't have the votes to pass. But apparently, that was just a speed bump for the administration. Somers Athletic Director Mark Hattem called for a special meeting, where he personally lobbied the trustees on why this merger was “beneficial” to Somers.

The live-streamed meeting was... illuminating. BOE President "Admiral Amanda Kandell" asked Hattem and the baseball coach to “explain the points related to the player-to-coach ratio” to the rest of the board. She even added that she believed it was “an important point.” It felt more scripted than sincere. Here’s the reality that Admiral Amanda clearly missed: the player-to-coach ratio only matters for the kids who actually make the team. For the student now running track this spring because he was cut from baseball, that ratio means absolutely nothing. It’s a hollow talking point for those left on the outside looking in.

Hattem introduced zero new facts in the meeting—just a healthy dose of buzzwords, like how it would be "inclusive" to welcome our North Salem neighbors onto the team. Apparently, that was the magic word. The board, previously united against the merger, flipped to a 4–2 vote in favor. Trustee Ifay Chan abstained—not because he supported it, but because he didn’t want to be on record opposing it. (Courage, anyone?).

In the end, the board shifted to align with the administration—specifically with Hattem—despite an overwhelming outpouring of concern from dedicated parents, coaches, and longtime supporters of the Somers baseball program. Once again, the Board of Education acted more like an arm of the administration than a body representing the will of the community that elected them.

For many residents, this decision feels like a betrayal. And odds are, if you're reading this, you probably didn’t vote for the trustees who pushed this through or you didn’t vote at all. That’s precisely why this matters. It's a clear example of why we need stronger, more balanced representation on the Board—voices willing to challenge the status quo and prioritize the interests of Somers students and taxpayers.

And the optics? They’re hard to ignore. How is it fair—or "inclusive"—to use Somers taxpayer dollars to enhance the athletic opportunities of a neighboring district, while local kids face the possibility of being cut from their own team? Appetizer for the many benefits of regionalization you will soon be able to enjoy under the tutelage of BOE President Amanda Kandel and her neutered sidekick Chadwick Olsen.

This isn’t just a policy decision. It’s a reflection of priorities. And it’s a reminder of why your vote matters in the next election.