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.