Most hitters would say all pitchers are moody, primadonna’s with psychological defects. Most pitchers would say position players are type A jar-heads who only worry about what they can club. As crazy as it sounds, both diagnoses are true, at least to a degree.
Every player goes through extreme emotional highs and lows during the season. A hitter on a hot streak is very different from one weathering a month long slump. The pitcher who just tossed a shutout might buy a round for everyone after the game, while a pitcher who just got touched up for 8 earnies in 2 & 1/3rd innings might need rounds bought for him. It’s during these peaks and valleys that teammates find out just how much Jekyll and Hyde are in the guy one locker over.
As we all know, this career is based on production. Droughts and streaks can mean big things for a player’s future. The problem lies in our foreknowledge. Though we are but lowly farmhands, unlike the noble horse who knows not the meager role he plays in life, we know exactly what our performance means — will it be lots of breeding with fine fillies (or Philly fans), or, off to the glue factory? This puts a lot of pressure on us to look at our time in the game with extreme urgency. It also puts a voice in our head that says, “Produce quickly, or miss out forever.”
How much closer or father we perceive we are from these two points often explains the psychological manifestations of your mild mannered minor leaguer. And those manifestations have social effects that create the team’s atmosphere. At the early levels, emotions are often worn on the sleeve for all to see: who is full of post outing braggadocio, and who needs to be put on suicide watch. Who wants patted on the back relentlessly and who acts like the world has been struck by an asteroid shaped like baseball. Every team has at least one whiner, and one jackass. Sometimes they are the same person—real emotional freak shows you never want to be caught alone with for fear of getting a dump truck full of drama. Every team has a guy who acts like he doesn’t care (until things start going bad), a guy who can’t play with out max adrenaline, and a guy who acts like he has all the answers. Maybe you know someone already? Maybe you’re reading his blog?
Why am I telling you this? Well, you need to learn how to deal with all these fine freaks because they’ll impact your career in ways you don’t expect. You might be able to shrug off their annoying, frustrating, and flat out draining behavior for a little while, but a full season of close quarters with them will wear you out.
Here are some tips for dealing with your teammates in a way that will make both your experiences that much more enjoyable.
My first advice is don’t take anything to seriously. Fact: there is nothing older then yesterday’s box scores, yours included. Your outings, their outings, his comments, the jokes, the exploits, what the radar guns said, how the hit was scored… Don’t let any of it excite or depress you too much because most of it is meaningless. The stuff that is important; the management wont tell you about.
Second, remember that there are very few occasions when getting upset will get you anywhere. Yes, I know a bunch of men always feel the need to beat their chest and assert their dominance through violence, but you still have to work with the guy you’re pissed at for the next couple months. Always error on the side of peacemaker as it’s better for everyone if you act like a man, even when your teammates act like monkeys. I warn you, taking the higher road can sure feel lonely when team groupthink sets in and everyone is living in an alternate reality where logic and cool heads look like weakness and cowardice. Again, that’s only because they’re monkeys, and monkeys don’t know any better.
Third, you can’t control your teammate’s behavior, so don’t waste your energy trying. You can disagree with it, but you can’t stop it—it’s not your career, and it’s not your life. Learn to bend like a reed in the wind. Baseball at the early levels is a lot like religion: many guys worshiping the same thing all the while fighting about which type of worship is correct. There is no right way in baseball, just the way that works, and that’s going to be different for everyone. Focus on what you know, and let other people focus on what they know and things will work out fine.
Fourth, don’t steal a guys victory moments, even if you hate his guts. You’re better than that. Let that SOB feel like a winner while he’s winning; lord knows that feeling may be the only time he gets to have it in this game of dice and daggers. Most of us will never be good enough to get used to winning big, so don’t rob somebody of it when they get the chance.
Fifth, learn how and when to help a teammate. You can’t stop the train from going off the tracks, but when it does—and it will—don’t be afraid to reach out and help a guy out, even if he turns right around and goes off the track again. Baseball is a game of failure. The best thing you’ll ever take from it is a callous against the blows of life’s adversity. That gift will keep on giving long after you’ve left the game. But I’ll be dammed if it doesn’t hurt like hell when it first starts forming. Getting your ass handed to you as a Rookie is rough, because it’s not just a whooping but the shaking of an ideal that has driven you for most of your life. A word of encouragement, a helping hand, a vote of confidence; they can go a long way. Don’t be afraid to pass them out. Advice from one rookie player to another might not be worth a pack of sunflower seeds, but support and encouragement always has a way of coming back to you.