Coach Screamer hurts our kids

By Jonathan Zimmerman

Suppose your kid is in high school, and he’s having a hard time with a math problem. “You’re stupid!” his teacher yells at him, loudly enough for everybody else to hear. “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.

The 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 it?

You know who 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, most of all, 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 you claim injury, Coach Screamer calls you a wimp or a weakling. And anyone who tires — and has to sit down — is a “coward.”

That’s what coach 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 last week.

“Did I tell you that you need a drink of water?” Stinson told players who asked for water, according to a parent 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!”

But why would a “professional” humiliate his own players, even at the risk of their health? Because, Coach Screamer says, it motivates them. It makes them perform better in their games. And off the field, it shapes them into men.

Nonsense. We have no evidence — none —that maligning athletes improves their play, or helps them mature. Indeed, most of the research points in the opposite direction.

Kids who are demeaned by their coaches do worse on the field, and often drop out of sports altogether, because they think they’re worthless. By contrast, the kids who receive praise — and who develop confidence — are the ones who succeed.

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

You do the math. If you think you’re lousy — at sports or at math — your chances of success go down.

That’s why nobody would allow the algebra teacher to demean a kid, especially in front of others. But Coach Screamer gets away with it.

In the worst cases, like Max Gilpin’s, players suffer physical harm. And Gilpin isn’t alone. 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 the 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, not every coach behaves like Coach Screamer. 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 to compliment him for all the good things that he does, too, because nobody gets better just by being told that they’re worse. That’s a lesson we could all stand to learn.

Jonathan Zimmerman teaches history and education at New York University. He is the author of “Small Wonder: The Little Red Schoolhouse in History and Memory.”