Play the Game, Not the Opponent

Most games are lost, not won.

~ Casey Stengel

I've been starting each practice this season with a simple lesson.  After the kids unload the car and organize the equipment in the dugout, we meet for a couple of minutes in front of home plate.  "Take a knee, eyes on me."  I particularly enjoy this age (8-10 year olds) because they are young enough to remain consistently obedient and old enough to understand simple lessons in sports philosophy.

Lessons are typically limited to a favorite quote or mantra from a collection I keep.  They sometimes provide an opportunity for me to reference a historical figure, if I'm quoting a Hall of Famer or some other sage of the game.  The lesson is a way to have an important baseball insight sink in and, hopefully, last a lifetime.  Sharing it in this way, with the players quiet and attentive, seems to work better than just mixing it into the chatter they hear while active.  After the first few practices, the kids now eagerly await the next lesson - it's like cracking open a baseball fortune cookie for them each week.  And it probably solidifies their respect for me as a coach who seems prepared and experienced.

I share the lesson, repeat it, and let it sink in.  I then ask players to tell me what it means to them.  It's fun to watch their minds figure out ways to process, interpret, and re-state a little baseball gem.  I try to ask them again at the end of practice what that day's lesson was, and then I ask them again at the start of the next practice before introducing a new one.  A weekly tradition; a routine, a lesson learned together.  Tradition and routine form bonds.

My hope is that a few favorites resonate with certain players and stay with them.  I hope memories of their year on my team include not just highlights on the field but takeaways of wisdom that guide them through their sports future.  And while I still have them, I can help them refer back to one of our team lessons whenever they start to lose their way in the heat of action and excitement.

This Saturday's lesson was to "play the game, not the opponent".  I could have coupled that with Stengel's quote above, but I'll instead save the quote for a future practice to reinforce the same basic message.  In youth baseball in particular, focus on your job and doing it correctly, to maximum success.  Fielding correctly.  Throwing to the correct base.  Making good base running decisions.  Backing up the correct base.  Don't spend time distracted by anything or anyone else - doing so will only detract from what's important.  

In youth baseball in particular, most games are lost, not won.  And while it's normal to keep track of runs scored to determine the game's winner, we could just as easily keep track of overthrows, dropped balls, and lost composure. The team that pays less attention to playing its own game usually loses.

One Pursuit: Maximum Success

If a youth coach, player, or parent were asked, "What are your primary goals for the season?" most answers would invariably be some form of "Stay Safe" "Have Fun", or "Win Games". Those wouldn't be my answers, because I don't coach in those terms, explicitly. Of course, I share those desires (in that order) but I don't consider any of them to be specifically actionable, so I don't spend too much time talking or worrying about them. I consider them outcomes of my single pursuit: maximum success, so I stay mostly concerned with success and correctness.

I stress maximum success - the ability to do something correctly - on everything I teach a young baseball player. Everything.

There is a correct way to dress for practice, a correct way to help carry team gear from my car to the dugout, a correct way to unpack the gear for practice. A correct way to warm up, to treat teammates, to respect umpires, to run on and off the field. And so on.

There is a correct way to throw, catch, run, hit. And there are several different correct ways to do those four basic skills, depending on the situation. I teach the correct method and expect players to pursue maximum success in everything they do.

It's easier said than done, it's a lot to ask of a young player, and it would require many years for a volunteer coach to (first learn and then) teach everything correctly. But it's a commitment to that philosophical ideal and a devotion to that approach that form my guiding coaching ethic.

And guess what results from this singular pursuit? Players learn to stay safe, players have more fun doing things correctly, and many games are won. Consistent action builds extraordinary outcomes. Goals are derived naturally. Better yet, players keep playing, which gives coaches more time to continue this pursuit with them.

So when I'm asked what my season goal is, my answer is simple and the same every year: maximum success in everything. How do I measure that? Lack of injuries, happy players, wins . . . sure. But I also watch to see how many of my former players return the following year to the sport. How many of them are recognized by future coaches as being well-coached? How many become future team leaders?

I never tell players to have fun. That's not an actionable instruction. When a player hears that, it doesn't mean anything. It's probably being ignored. At best, the player is thinking, "OK, sounds great. But how do I do that? Show me something fun!"

There is nothing wrong with stating a desire to have fun, except when it stops there -- or worse, when it's followed by instructions to do something that isn't fun (like standing in line). Kids then stand in line and start goofing around, since the coach told them to have fun. The coach then reprimands them for goofing around, alas, for having fun. So be careful what you ask for. Don't preach fun. Preach success. Success is fun, so coach success.

A youth coach is a teacher. Practices are lessons. Use them to teach. Head to every practice able to state to yourself exactly what you plan to teach that day. If you are worried about anything other than teaching to maximum success, you should probably instead be coaching much older players (if you're good enough); you should not be coaching youth baseball with any mindset other than that of a teacher. Youth baseball is not meant to fulfill the dreams of adults.

Coach the Culture, then let the Culture Coach the Team

All great teams have a defining culture, and youth teams should have one too. My teams are defined by timeless virtues that all players can develop, regardless of age or ability: class, hustle, heart, love, respect, and quiet confidence. The ideal I strive for is to have my players recognized by their brand of play. Skill and success are important aspects of the brand, but I trust that those are inevitable by-products of the most fundamental aspects of the brand.

I care first about how my players carry themselves – at practice, before and after games, in games, and in their community. I want opposing coaches, parents, and future coaches to recognize how well-coached my players have been.

Before I even meet my team, I consciously re-visit my value system and take inventory of what I stand for as a role model, and what universal virtues I believe will best serve my players in life. I then use this value system as my guiding ethic for all subsequent coaching actions.

I establish my team culture first and I cultivate it throughout the season, but I do so implicitly whenever possible. I’ve never believed much in grand declarations of values; too often this comes across as sanctimonious. Instead, I draw upon my private list of values to generate my coaching ideas.

I think about what life traits I want my players to develop and retain, and I then coach to those values. If I can’t directly link a drill or a message or a team rule to a defining value, it doesn’t get used.

My players don’t need to hear these virtues listed by name. Instead, they first need to witness them in me. If I want my players to show up ready to play with passion every day, I need to show up ready to coach with passion every day. If I want classy players, I need to always demonstrate class. If I want my players to hustle, I need to hustle. If I want them to play with heart, I need to coach with heart. If I don't want them to ever lose their cool, I can't lose my cool.

I recognize that my team requires a set of rules, but I avoid presenting it that way. I first keep the number of team rules to a minimum. Too many rules will diminish the importance of the message. I get away with having just four rules, as long as I’m careful to make them fundamental and all-encompassing enough to cover all of my concerns. I deliver these rules matter-of-factly, as though they just simply "are".

I don’t call them “my” rules because I don’t want them associated with only me. Rules are not about satisfying me. Rules are about honoring the team’s brand. I also don’t actually call them “rules”. I call them “team promises” and I state what they are. I then explain that to be on this team, everyone (including coaches) pledges to live up to the team promises. I’m just the messenger, sharing what the promises are. My message is non-negotiable, but I’m still just the messenger. This is just how it is and how it’s going to be. It’s pretty simple to understand, and pretty reasonable.

This frees me up to act primarily as an instructor, which is what bonds me to my players. I seem like I am simply part of the culture, aware of the promises and the need to mind them, but not primarily concerned with enforcing them. I mostly try to see if the promises can enforce themselves and I start by giving everyone the benefit of the doubt that they are capable of keeping their promises. When they can’t, I call them out, matter-of-factly. I don’t scream but I don’t tiptoe around it, either. I use a sharp, firm, controlled voice and I get my point across. It’s nothing personal, but the player broke his promise. Depending on the circumstance, some consequence is therefore required, as appropriate. 5 push-ups often does the trick.

"The fewer rules a coach has, the fewer rules there are for players to break"

~ John Madden

I don’t tell players that they can’t do this and they can’t do that because "I said so". Instead, I share my rules, delivered as promises, with explanations that are easy for a young player to accept. They are:

Dress like a ballplayer.
Run full-speed on and off the field, every time.
Respect your coaches, teammates, opponents, umpires, and equipment.
Never complain, never argue.

That’s it.

Each of these four rules contains a specific directive and also encompasses a broader and deeper subset of rules and implied messages, and that’s the point. Four seemingly simple rules like these, when consistently enforced and followed, can govern even a rambunctious group of young players without feeling heavy-handed.

To “dress like a ballplayer” means to come ready to play baseball. Even most 8 year olds get the expanded message: show up, ready to play, and stay fully engaged. Act the part. A ballplayer dressed to play shows class, confidence, heart, and a love and respect for the game.

To “run full-speed” means to always give everything you’ve got. It also means to fight the tendency to get down on oneself. Even after a rough inning, sprint to the dugout. That shows hustle, heart, and confidence. It’s even perhaps a little intimidating, but in a classy way.

The third rule is sort of the trump card. Any time any player acts out in any unacceptable way, he has violated this rule. I remind players of this rule whenever I observe behavior I won’t tolerate: throwing a helmet, talking when I'm talking, being unkind to a teammate. Tying the bad behavior back to this rule has an impact, and seems to be more instructive than simply yelling at a player. It reminds a player why his behavior is unacceptable.

The final rule is designed mostly to combat immature behavior: impulsive interruptions and incessant asking, selfish requests ("Can I bat first?"), and pouting or sulking when things go wrong. If you nip this early, the season will be a lot more enjoyable for everyone.

Players need not intellectualize how this culture came to be; they’ll simply adapt to it and accept it.

The Youth Baseball Coach as Servant Leader

Youth baseball coaches should be inherently selfless, giving, instructional, interested in the greater good, and never self-interested. Leagues should ask volunteer coaches to submit a brief written statement of purpose, and look for these character traits to be revealed.

Youth baseball coaches should share everything. They should seek opportunities to coach the weakest players who can benefit most from them. They should tutor an individual player on an opposing team, 1-on-1, each season in fundamentals.

There will be plenty of other opportunities to coach exceptionally talented kids if you’re a good coach. When a youth baseball team wins a championship one year, the players should get trophies and the coach should get to coach the last place team the following year. Youth baseball coaches in a given league should see themselves as a collective unit, similar to a staff of counselors at a baseball camp, not competitive adversaries. If your league has a selfish coach, he should be phased out as soon as possible.

If your league has a draft, encourage a blind draft where all coaches work together to form balanced rosters and then draw teams out of a hat after rosters are set. Besides, in most youth league drafts, highly rated players are over-rated and lower-rated players are under-rated. Youth coaches should worry less about getting the best players and more about developing the best players.