Parents are forewarned, often before becoming a parent: parenting a teenager is no joke. Just google “parenting a teenager” and you see tons of books, blog posts and YouTube videos about “surviving” this stage of your parenting experience. Parenting a teen is “daunting”, “challenging” and just plain “hard”. However, there are no resources out there for coaching teenagers in sports. I’m here to tell you, coaches of teenagers need help. Or at least I do.
Parents are forewarned, often before becoming a parent: parenting a teenager is no joke. Just google “parenting a teenager” and you see tons of books, blog posts and YouTube videos about “surviving” this stage of your parenting experience. Parenting a teen is “daunting”, “challenging” and just plain “hard”. However, there are no resources out there for coaching teenagers in sports. I’m here to tell you, coaches of teenagers need help. Or at least I do.
Over the past eleven years, I have coached 12 recreational baseball teams for the Prospect Park Baseball Association. The 3 and 4 year olds I started coaching in 2011 are 14 and 15 years old, now. My first coaching experience, when the players were 3 and 4 playing t-ball, was akin to herding cats.
In our t-ball season, players were easily distracted. They would lie down in the field when they were supposed to be playing first base. When a ball was hit in the field, all the fielders would run after it, and usually end up in a pile on top of the ball, and on top of each other. At the plate, batters would often stand there bewildered about what to do after making solid contact with the bat on the ball. Coaches and parents would scream at them to “run, run, run!” When they finally got the message, they might drop the bat (or not), and they would run, but not always towards 1st base. Sometimes they would run towards 3rd base. Other times they would run towards the pitcher. Sometimes they would simply cross their arms in protest and sit down at home plate. T-ball practices and games were scheduled for one hour once a week; those 60 minutes seemed like an eternity, sometimes. Most player’s favorite part of the experience was snack time after the game was over.
Over the years, players gained a growing understanding about the rules of the game, and improved their skills. Every season we had a new “first” experience in baseball. I remember the first caught fly balls; the first successful plays in the field involving two players; the first double-play; the first triple-play; the first stolen base; the first runner picked-off the base. I loved preparing our players for those firsts and then processing the challenges and successes of the experience.
One of my favorite “firsts” was our first “player-pitched” game. After a few seasons of tball and then “coach pitched” games, we were ready for the first time our own players would pitch. In the Pony Division of the Prospect Park Baseball Association, players start to pitch to their own teammates. All our players were nervous. Our pitchers were afraid they would hit the batters, who were their friends. Our batters were afraid they would get hit by pitches. “The reality”, I explained to these 7 and 8 year olds, “is that each of you is going to get hit by a pitch at some point. It is likely going to hurt. But, you will not die. I promise”. I’m not sure if they believed me, or not. So, to break the tension and provide some levity, we all wore stick-on mustaches to that first game. Seriously. It worked. Some batters got hit, but there were many more smiles than hit batters that day.
As a coach for recreational, not “travel”, baseball teams, I always aim to make the experience fun, and not solely focus on the competition. In the early years, I gave out coloring sheets of famous baseball players from history, like Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson and Roberto Clemente. As the kids got older, I gave out 1980s/90s-era unopened baseball card packs at the end of each game. Many packs still had sticks of gum intact inside the wrapper. I provided a warning, and claimed no responsibility for any gastric-upset they might experience if they chewed the 30 year old gum. The players loved receiving these cards. They would jockey for the best spot in our huddle in order to choose the pack they most desired. While they were all hoping to score an invaluably rare rookie card (which never happened), they ended up learning about players and teams they never knew existed.
Each year, players learned more about the game of baseball. The rules we played under would adjust every two years or so to meet their changing developmental stage, both physically and cognitively. In the first season, in 2011, the t-ball field had 30 foot base paths. Every player batted every inning. Each batter got 10 swings to make solid contact with the ball. No walks or strikeouts. No score recorded. Over the years, the rules adjusted over each of the 6 subsequent levels of play. The fields got bigger and bigger, and the rules got more complicated. We started stealing bases 6 years ago. We started leading before the pitch 3 years ago. Last season it became real: We are, finally, playing “major league rules” on a real baseball field. 90 foot basepaths. 60 feet 6 inches from the tip of home plate to the front of the pitcher’s rubber. Infield fly rule applies. Balks called without warning. Our players are finally deemed developmentally ready to play “real” baseball. But, there are some developmental realities that I am not fully prepared for: adolescence of my players.
Search the internet for “signs of adolescent behavior” and you get a list that includes: moodiness and irritability, verbal aggression, lack of frustration tolerance, low impulse control, withdrawal, defiance and testing limits, concern about physical appearance, struggle with sense of identity, sleeping harder and longer, sexual experimentation, selfishness and abandoning commitments. With the exception of the sleep and sex issues, I’m seeing the rest on the baseball field, for kids on my team and in our competition.
The mood swings, and emotional challenges of adolescence definitely impacts my ability to effectively coach my players. Kids that once were so clear in what they wanted or didn’t want, and able to articulate their emotions (e.g. happy, excited, scared, sad or mad) are way more complicated now. A kid that was so confident in past years, could still be confident, but could just as likely become terrified, in the same at bat. As a result of their developmental changes, my ability to logically reason with players, especially with my inflection of humor, can be completely useless now. Younger kids that would nod their head in understanding and agreement, and resultantly make simple changes to their behavior a few years ago, might still nod their head and seem to listen, but are also just as likely to disagree with me or just plain ignore me. In the past, I could count on my understanding of who a particular player was. These days, I don’t know which personality of a given player I’m going to see on a particular day. All of this makes it really hard to prepare, or predict, skills that are central to the role of a coach.
Most central to my role of coach has always been my ability to help a player feel good about themselves. Players all present with different strengths and challenges, but everyone improves when they make the effort. In past years, I could rely upon my ability to support a kid through their emotional struggles by highlighting for them their improvement so far, and point to opportunities for continuing growth. This does not work with most teenage players. They’re more likely to be focused on what certain other kids think about them, or pretending they’re not focused on what certain other kids think about them. As a result, many players seem set on not looking like they care about the game, or how they’re playing, even if deep down they really do. For a coach, this is extremely frustrating.
As I reflect on the challenge I’m experiencing coaching teenagers, I’ve come to realize that I’m experiencing a sort of adolescent period of my own, as a coach. I’m definitely feeling moody and irritable. My inclination towards verbal aggression has never been stronger. I feel my frustration tolerance waning and my impulse control is on the fritz. I’m definitely struggling with my sense of identity. Even with all the challenges I’m experiencing in this phase of my development as a coach, I am not abandoning my commitments. Instead, I’m doubling-down and ready to own my maturity as an “adult” coach.
A simple internet search on the developmental tasks of adulthood highlight milestones of “achieving autonomy, establishing one’s identity and developing emotional stability”. After 12 years in this role, I think I can be the adult coach I want to be. To start, I can acknowledge that the most important part of being an “adult” coach of child athletes is recognizing that kids are kids, no matter what stage of development they are in. I am sure that I want my identity as a coach to be still centered on being “fun”. So, I just ordered more baseball card packs from the 1980s and 1990s to give out to players after the game this week. Some packs will likely have 30 year old gum sticks inside. Depending on how I feel after their performance, I’m not sure if I’ll provide my usual disclaimer, and warn them about the potential for gastric-upset if they choose to chew the gum. Maybe, I’m not as mature as I think I am. There’s always room for development.
Kathryn Krase
Kathryn Krase is a lifelong Brooklynite and active community volunteer. A lawyer and social worker, Kathryn is the Principal Consultant for Krase Consulting. But if you want to see her in her true element, catch her in Prospect Park, coaching her teenager, Jack, and the rest of their baseball crew, or playing volleyball with her pals.