Control freaks

The coaching ranks has it fair share of Control Freaks regardless of the sport. These people are not very good at delegating, nor are they comfortable with sharing the scope of what’s going on with others. In addition to what’s been said, they all tend to have similar characteristics. Here are just a few:

Their personality and demeanor is one of intimidation, presented in total or in part as, “I know what I’m doing here”, and/or “respect me or else.”
There is no thinking out of the box with these people. Players and staff coaches alike are not there to think - but do as they’re told.
There is no learning curve, no benefit of the experience. Every phase of a practice and game time is mapped out in detail - but, kept close to the chest of the Control Freak.
Players are expected to know when, where and why at all times - but are rarely given the opportunity to practice the supporting roles that give them the chance to practice when, where and why
Missed opportunities on the field are always blamed on others for not acting properly.
There are two (2) unwritten laws when dealing with Control Freaks (1) don’t speak until spoken to (2) don’t tell me, I’ll tell you.
Failure is not an option, nor is it something to learn from.
A Control Freak will always give credit to himself/herself for how many wins he/she has, but will never give credit to the players that actually did the work.
When a player gets hurt or injured on the field, that’s not his/her problem.
There is no tolerance or endurance limits for the Control Freak, hence, said same for others.
Kids are nothing more than a bunch of smart @#!*’s that have to kept in line.

Control Freaks rarely, if ever, realize the personality that they project. And that’s not unusual. They’re so focused on their pattern of behavior that everything else around them is out of focus.

If you’re a head coach, staff coach, assistant coach … take stock of the Code of Ethics that you addressed when you got into this business. Coaching is a life skills responsibility, tailored to the level of competition and the age group that’s involved. If you have to rationalize to yourself …”this is the only way I know in order to survive”, your in the wrong business. Don’t go there.

Pitching Coach John Baker

This also applies to managers! We’ve all seen them, particularly in the major leagues—the “Professeurs Je-sais-tout” who know it all, or think they know it all, and who will not listen to anybody or anything because they think they know it all. And what happens to them when something happens that demonstrates to them that they do NOT know it all?
When it comes to this I can’t help thinking of a guy named Chuck Dressen who used to manage the Brooklyn Dodgers. He thought he knew it all. He was, among other things, a “terrible tempered Mr. Bang” who fancied himself the consummate expert on pitchers and pitching, when in fact he didn’t know diddly-squat about them. In fact, what he did know about pitching you could put on the head of a straight pin such as is used in sewing and have a lot of room left over. But no one could tell him anything, because oh, he knew his pitchers—and then one day he got hit in the face with the reality he refused to face.
It was October, 1951, and the Dodgers and the Giants were embroiled in the third game of a playoff series to determine the winner of the National League pennant. Don Newcombe had been pitching a gem, and the Dodgers were ahead—but in the seventh inning Newcombe started tiring. Came the eighth, and poor Newk felt that his arm was about to fall off, that he couldn’t go on any more. But Dressen—and not only he but also Roy Campanella and a few other players—kept pushing the guy to pitch until his arm did fall off, when it became clear that his arm was about to fall off. And in the ninth—
Suddenly the Giants rallied and scored a couple of runs, and they had two men on base. Dressen kept calling down to the bullpen where two pitchers, Carl Erskine and Ralph Branca, had been heating up. Bullpen coach Clyde Sukeforth, who really should have known better but who, like Dressen, “knew it all”—said that Erskine had been bouncing the ball on the ground but Branca was looking very good. So Dressen—very reluctantly, because he really wanted Newcombe to continue—said “Let me have Branca”.
Big mistake. Sure, Erskine had been bouncing the ball in front of the plate, but that often happens with the splitter He would have been a better choice. Dressen had, in his infinite “wisdom”, had forgotten that Bobby Thomson was the next batter for the Giants, and Thomson owned Branca, had hit a number of homers off him during the season. An even better bet might have been Clem Labine—but Labine was in the doghouse and Dressen wanted nothing to do with him. So in came Branca. And on the 0-1 pitch…
BLAM, over the left field wall, and the Giant fans in the stands went absolutely berserk!
And I remembered an old Scottish saying: “Don’t spit in the air; it’ll fall back on you.” No, it doesn’t pay to be a “control freak”. 8)

:applause: :applause: :allgood: