Coaches do great harm in humiliating athletes

Suppose your kid is in high school, and he's having a hard time with an algebra problem. "You're stupid!" his teacher yells at him, loudly enough for everybody else to hear. "You're terrible at math! Solve the problem, or I'm kicking you out of this class."

I bet you'd complain to the teacher, or maybe to the principal. And so would I. A teacher shouldn't condemn his students for failing to grasp the material, which will only make it harder for them to learn later on. And he certainly shouldn't humiliate them in front of their peers.

So why do we let athletic coaches do so?

You know whom I'm talking about. You can see him pacing the sidelines this fall at your local school, berating the football or soccer players under his charge. Call him Coach Screamer.

Coach Screamer never stops screaming. And he never stops criticizing. For every "nice job" or "good play," there are three or four barbs. Dumb shot! Weak pass! Pathetic tackle!

Out of the public eye, it's even worse. At practice, if a student claims injury, Coach Screamer calls him a wimp or a weakling. And anyone who tires and has to sit down is a coward.

That's what football coach David Jason Stinson reportedly called kids who asked for a water break on a 94-degree day at Pleasure Ridge Park High School in Kentucky, where 15-year-old Max Gilpin died last year after collapsing during a drill. Stinson was charged with reckless homicide and was found not guilty yesterday.

"Did I tell you that you need a drink of water?" Stinson yelled, according to a parent who was watching soccer on an adjacent field. "You don't tell me when you need something, you got that? We are the professionals here - we'll tell you when you need a drink or a break or anything else!"

Why would a supposed professional humiliate his own players, even risking their health? Because, Coach Screamer says, it motivates them. It makes them perform better during games. And, off the field, it shapes them into men.

Nonsense. There is no evidence - none - that maligning athletes improves their play or helps them mature. Indeed, most research points in the opposite direction: Kids who are demeaned by their coaches do worse on the field, and they often drop out of sports altogether out of feelings of worthlessness. By contrast, the kids who receive praise and develop confidence are the ones who succeed.

Consider the classic 1972 experiment by psychologists L.R. Nelson and M.L. Furst. They paired 12 relatively strong people with 12 weaker ones in a series of arm-wrestling matches, but they told the competitors in each match that the weaker partner was the stronger one. In 10 of the 12 matches, the weaker partner won.

You do the math. If you think you're lousy - whether at sports or at math - your chances of success go down. That's why nobody would allow an algebra teacher to demean a kid, especially in front of others.

But Coach Screamer gets away with it. In the worst cases, players suffer physical harm.

In East St. Louis, Ill., football player Demond Hunt Jr. sustained permanent brain injuries last year when his coach ignored his complaints of a headache and put him back in a game. According to a lawsuit brought by Hunt's family, coach Darren Sunkett taunted players who complained of concussion-like symptoms. "Quit playing like a little [expletive] and get out there," Sunkett supposedly said.

To be fair, there are plenty of great coaches across the country who succeed without resorting to shame, humiliation, or violence. They stress the positive, praising kids for good effort and strong play. And when they have to correct or discipline someone - as all teachers must - they do it with respect and restraint.

So the next time you see Coach Screamer yelling at some unfortunate kid who just missed a shot or a pass, please ask him to stop. Do it nicely, in a calm and measured tone. And make sure you compliment him for all the good things that he does, too, because nobody gets better just by being told that they're no good. That's a lesson we all could stand to learn.