I didn’t know what to expect upon my entrance in the professional baseball ranks. To that point, all I had to go on were the exaggerated folk tales spread by my college teammates who had a buddy with a buddy who was playing in some minor league dump while acting like he was the next A-rod.

My coaches, who had played in the pros themselves, were asked about their experiences so many times they were sick of discussing it and told us we’d just have to experience it for ourselves. Luckily, I was granted the chance, and, after signing a magical contract, I was whisked away to the enchanted land of the minor league mini-camp.

Oh, there was the first time I looked upon my employer’s logoed buildings. The first time I put on my logoed jersey. The first time I walked out on manicured pro grass with the logo painted in. And then, there was the first meeting with my professional pitching coaches, which wasn’t quit as magical as I expected it to be.

“We got Trojans. We got Gators. We got Dirt Bags. We got a whole bunch of fresh meat that hasn’t done a goddamn thing yet. This is a new world. Welcome to pro-ball; time to start earning your paycheck, ladies.”

You want to be successful in the pros, and the pro staffers want you to be successful too. However, the drive for this success varies according to each respective party in the process. It’s a business in the pros, and it’s a shrewd one—shrewd in ways you would never expect.

To get into the ranks of professional baseball, someone has to take gamble on you. They grade you and decide if you are going to be worth the money they invest to sign, employ, and develop you—all done in hopes that you make it to the Bigs and pay out. You are like a stock, and if you don’t believe me, look at how many indices are out there to evaluate your ability to produce for an investor. When you sign that contract, you become a number with a value that goes up and down based on daily variables, just like a stock exchange.

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In the world of stock, people get paid to pick winners. Baseball operates the same way. Except, in baseball, some of the people who are picking are also working with the stocks picked. Scouts, managers, trainers, and various tool set coaches have input in development the process.

Now, most of these input-bearing individuals look at the human element of the player and consider his ability, dreams, and limitations when they coach. Players aren’t really numbers after all, they’re people. These wise coaches have no bias because they all understand what motivates a player to endure the grind of the game, and how it feels to fail at it.

However, some coaches don’t care about your heart. They only care about your ability to make them look like geniuses if you produce under their tutelage. If they can leave their mark on your development, they’ll shoot up through the ranks right along side you.

The mark leaving process can be damaging. Certain coaches, scouts, etc, have their way of doing things. Their way is, of course, the right way and the only way. Excel via their methods— and their method only—and they have left their mark on you, one that says to you and everyone watching that they have played a pivotal role in your development. Once their mark is set, then only they can help you, and if the organization wants to keep getting the same result form you, they need this role player around.

Obviously this is dangerous for the player. Young draftees are impressionable and if a coach says it has to be done his way, the player is not going to disagree because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his chances of making it to the Show. A player is not going to piss off the guy making decisions about his stock value.

Regardless of the marks and selfish coaches, there is the issue of coaching effectiveness. Not everything a staffer says to a player, regardless of the motivation from which it comes, is going to benefit the player. In fact, something said by one coach might reach a player where the same exact thing said by another coach might not work at all. Timing, delivery, and circumstances all play a factor into development.

For the player, knowing that this is all taking place in professional world is invaluable because, unlike a stock, the player has a voice and a right to choose which coaching he accepts. For some reason, especially new players, this power is voluntarily given up. But, a player must learn how to sift through mark makers and ineffective coaches, and get to those sources of good and relevant information.

Fortunately for me, in my first days as a fresh-face draftee—right after I was told that it was time to start earning my paycheck—I was told the single most useful rule in my player development: “You got talent or you wouldn’t be here. Our job is to help you take that talent to the Bigs. Not everything we say is going to help you. Not everything we tell you is going to make you better. But, since we’ve been around this game longer than you, just try it. See if it works. If it doesn’t, throw it out. In the end, you have to be your own best coach, and if you learn how to do one thing down here, and one thing only, it should be that.”