After close observation, I have decided that high school baseball coaches, and perhaps sports coaches in general, are some of the weirdest breed on Earth.
First, to coin a Freudian term, let's start with the egotism of coaches. They immediatly assume they know what's best for every kid on the team, and that they are smarter than every single player on the team, which in most cases is probably true. However, the intriguing thing is the way which they choose to express it. The basic psychology of a baseball coach is if any cheeky kid, particularly freshmen, make a suggestion for the good of the order, they will "run their ass." It does not matter if the suggestion is good or bad. If it's bad, the coach will "run their ass." If it's good the coach will implement their suggestion and still run their ass. Baseball coaches are so built up on their own pride and ego that they simply cannot except any kind of input from anyone, especially their players.
Next let's cover the coaches moodiness. Baseball coaches are very finicky creatures. If you catch one in a good mood, he'll be like your best bud, joking and the whole nine yards. If you either provoke one into a bad mood or meet one in a bad mood you're in trouble. Any slight step out of line and he'll either yell at you tell your eardrums burst, run you until you puke, or start degrading your skills in front of the entire team. Usually, it is impossible to tell what kind of mood a baseball coach is in, and he is always very close to being in a bad mood. Basically the only way to survive without getting "your ass run," or any of the above negative impacts, is to act as submissive as possible when in the presence of a coach. Coaches like nothing better than to be "yes sirred" and they love to see ppl jumping on their every command. This is part of their tremendous egos as mentioned above. The general motto is always assume a baseball coach is in the worst possible mood.
The third peculiarity of a baseball coach is his prejudice, especially against freshmen. Baseball coaches immediatly assume that all freshman have about as much baseball ability as a fried chicken and that they must be taught how to play as if they had the intelligence of a grapefruit. It is assumed that all freshmen are cheeky and overrate themselves highly and must be taught respect by yet again "running their ass." Upperclassmen are everything that freshmen are not. They are smart, can play some ball, and, in the coaches eyes can do know wrong. The facts speak for themselves. If a freshmen messes up on a drill then all of Hell's wrath must be brought down and they are run until their limbs turn into Swiss cheese. If an upperclassmen messes up, it's no big deal, he just does the drill over again. The same holds true for suggestions. An upperclassmen makes a good suggestion (if it's a bad one, even he gets "his ass run"), and the coach takes it under serious consideration. A freshmen makes a good suggestion, and after a long lecture on how the coach should know exactly how to run the team, how the freshmen is new and doesn't know his right from his left, and after about 50 miles of running, the freshmen's suggestion is implemented. The reason for this can again be traced back to a baseball coach's egotism. Freshmen are new, so they take a while to learn and understand a coach's quirks and how to behave. Upperclassmen, who know the coach are masters of survival, and because of this, the coach coems to trust them.
In sum, the key to success on a high school baseball team is not
necessarily flat out skill, but appealing to a baseball coach's inflated ego. Such is the strange
psychology of a baseball coach.