The Nonlinear Player: Part 2 — Supporting the Stalled, Surging, and Struggling

How elite organizations coach confidence, simplify chaos, and manage the human side of performance gaps.

Recognizing the Stall — What It Looks Like, and What It Isn’t

One of the hardest things for coaches to diagnose is the difference between a stall and a slump — or worse, a true regression. All three can look the same on the surface: mediocre performance, lack of adjustment, and static body language. But how a program reads that phase often determines how the player survives it.

Because not every plateau is a problem. And not every slump is a crisis.

Some are necessary. Some are protective. Some are signals that the system is reorganizing — not failing.

Elite player development staffs learn to recognize the difference. They don’t overreact to neutral pauses. They don’t force reps into a fragile window. They don’t assume a stalled player is lazy, broken, or disinterested.

Instead, they observe precisely, coach patiently, and act surgically.

A Stall Is Not a Slump

A slump is a short-term drop in performance — usually results-based — often disconnected from deep developmental issues. A stall is a slowdown in visible growth. It may show up in metrics, movement, confidence, or decision-making. It's not always failure — but it's not forward momentum either.

A true stall usually features:

• Repetitive execution patterns (no new shapes, approaches, or reactions)

• Flat or shrinking rep quality

• Less emotional variability — neither frustration nor joy

• Subtle drop in challenge-seeking behavior

• Performance that neither improves nor clearly declines

This is the quiet phase where progress often pauses, not reverses. The player isn’t spiraling — but they also aren’t adapting.

False Positives: What Looks Like a Stall But Isn’t

Some players appear stuck — but they’re actually mid-cycle (see Part 1). Misreading this leads to unnecessary intervention or label creep.

False stalls:

• A hitter who is swinging and missing more while adopting a new movement pattern

• A pitcher whose command drops after a strength gain or arm path change

• A player whose numbers are down while learning a new position

• A confident athlete learning to slow down and process more deeply

If coaches don’t look below the surface, they’ll assume the rep isn’t working — when in fact, the rep is just ahead of the performance curve.

The Player’s Behavior Often Tells You More Than the Metrics

Stalled players aren’t always frustrated. Some of them are mentally coasting — confused but not panicked. Others might be over-investing in technical details without making progress.

Key behavioral signs of a true stall:

• Stops initiating conversation or asking questions

• Avoids challenge (less intent in reps, picks easier matchups)

• Repeats the same pattern rep after rep with no curiosity or adjustment

• Begins deferring to coaches excessively (“What do you want me to do here?”)

• Can’t describe what they’re working on — or why

These aren’t flaws. They’re indicators that the player’s internal system is stalled, even if the swing still looks clean.

Stalls Are Part of the Cycle — But They Still Require a Response

Just because stalls are normal doesn’t mean they’re harmless. Unaddressed, they can harden into:

• Identity drift (“Maybe I’m just this kind of player”)

• Motivation erosion (“I don’t know if this is working”)

• Coaching distance (“They’re not talking to me anymore”)

That’s why smart programs flag stalls as checkpoints, not red flags.

They don’t try to force breakthroughs. They try to create conditions that allow movement again — without panic, pressure, or premature overhaul.

Not every flat stretch is a failure. But every stall is a message.

The best coaches know how to read it — and when to wait, simplify, or intervene.

Coaching the Surging Player Without Overexposing or Overloading

When a player starts to take off — louder contact, sharper stuff, cleaner execution — it’s tempting to ride the wave. Give them more. Raise their role. Move them up. Make the most of the heat.

But the surge phase is often more fragile than it looks. Because development isn’t done just because results show up.

Sometimes that surge is:

• A temporary confidence spike

• A clean two-week matchup stretch

• A new move is finally syncing up — but not stabilized

• A player riding adrenaline, not skill depth

And if coaches overreact to success — just like they sometimes overreact to failure — they can pull the player out of their growth zone before they’ve built the foundation to sustain it.

Elite programs don’t just coach struggling players. They know how to protect and stabilize surging ones, too.

Success Can Trigger Anxiety, Not Just Confidence

Not every hot streak builds belief. Some trigger panic. Now the player feels like they have something to lose.

Watch for:

• Over-defensiveness during coaching conversations

• Trying to be perfect to “protect” new results

• Overload in early work — too many reps, too many tweaks

• Shifts in identity (“This is who I am now”) that outpace skill stabilization

This is where the coach becomes a grounding force. Instead of adding new input, the focus becomes reinforcement:

“Nothing changed. You're just executing what we’ve been building.”

“Let’s lock this in before we add another layer.”

“Stay boring. Let the game keep coming to you.”

Surges Need Simplicity — Not Stimulation

The instinct during a surge is often to build momentum:

“He’s hot — let’s add the next piece.”

“He’s ready for a bigger challenge.”

“Let’s give him more.”

But most surges aren’t built on volume. They’re built on clarity. One or two feels clicking. One or two decisions becoming automatic.

If you flood the player with new data, cues, or pressure, the surge often stalls. Not because the player failed. But because the system is overloaded.

Best practice:

• Lock in routines

• Keep messaging simple and repetitive

• Watch fatigue and intent closely

• Reinforce the player’s ownership, not just their production

Coach for Stability, Not Velocity

Development isn’t about how fast you can get hot. It’s about how stable you are when you are.

That means asking:

• “What does this player understand about why it’s working?”

• “Can he verbalize it in a way that he can repeat?”

• “Does he think he got lucky, or does he know what he owns?”

If the player can’t explain it, he can’t repeat it. If he can’t repeat it, the surge is borrowed — not built.

Coaches should avoid phrases like:

• “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” (Unclear)

• “You’re just hot right now.” (Dismissive)

• “It’s all coming together!” (Vague)

Instead:

• Name what’s working

• Anchor it to a process

• Slow the rush to evolve

Don’t Let the Role Outgrow the Readiness

Nothing derails a surge faster than mismanaging role velocity. A player who just got hot gets thrust into a larger role — more pressure, fewer reps, higher expectations — and his internal map can’t keep up.

What was flowing now feels fragile.

Elite programs monitor:

• How much the player’s bandwidth is actually expanding

• Whether confidence is stable — or performance-dependent

• If the jump in role fits their current identity + understanding, not just their OPS

Sometimes the best move after a surge is no move at all. Just reps. Just quiet. Just ownership.

You don’t win development by chasing momentum. You win it by protecting clarity — even when things feel easy.

The surge is a gift. But only if you coach the next seven days with the same care you coached the last seventy.

Supporting the Struggling Player Without Coddling

What elite coaches do when performance dips — and the player knows it.

A slump isn’t rare. It’s expected. Every player — even elite ones — will eventually have a stretch where the results don’t match the work. But how a coach handles that moment often says more about the program than how it handles success.

There are two extremes that fail players in this phase:

1. Coddling — too soft, too vague, too afraid to challenge.

2. Criticism — too harsh, too emotional, too focused on outcomes.

Both send the same message:

We don’t trust you to get through this on your own.

But high-performing programs coach through struggle with calm precision. They don’t flinch. They don’t overtalk. And they don’t try to fix everything all at once.

They help the player find solid ground — without ever pretending the ground isn’t shaking.

Struggle Needs Structure — Not Sympathy

There’s a difference between empathy and rescue.

A struggling player often feels:

• Exposed

• Overstimulated

• Lost in feedback

• Disconnected from belief

In this moment, players don’t need a pep talk. They need a plan.

That means:

• Clear, minimal adjustment points

• Structured reps with purpose, not just volume

• Stable routines — same work, same timing, same coach

• Defined expectations: “We’re working on this, not everything.”

Sympathy without structure creates emotional relief — but no momentum. Structure without sympathy creates obedience — but no belief. Both must exist. But structure comes first.

Coach the Behavior, Not Just the Outcome

Slumps can cause panic. Panic creates effort spikes, guessing, indecision, and disengagement.

The key is to coach what’s visible and behavioral — not just box scores:

• “You’re cutting early — let’s build trust in the full move.”

• “You’re chasing late — let’s get your gather back.”

• “You’re talking less — what’s actually going on in your head?”

• “Your routine’s gotten sloppier — how can we reset it?”

This keeps the player inside the process. No guesswork. No drama. Just decisions and reps.

Don’t Let the Slump Become an Identity

When players struggle, they often internalize it:

• “I can’t hit.”

• “They’ve lost faith in me.”

• “Maybe I’m not that guy.”

The role of the coach is to cut off the story before it calcifies.

What to avoid:

• Labels (“he’s scuffling”) that spread through staff rooms

• Jokes that mask concern but reinforce doubt

• Letting slumps isolate the player from the team or training

What to use instead:

• “You’re not your results.”

• “This is a feedback loop, not a failure loop.”

• “Let’s shrink the zone and own one adjustment.”

• “You’re not behind. You’re just in this phase.”

Accountability Without Emotion

One of the toughest balances: holding players to the standard without layering emotion on top.

That means:

• No tone shifts in meetings — same voice in April as in July

• No guilt-based motivation (“You’re letting us down”)

• No comparison coaching (“Look what X is doing right now”)

Instead:

• Show data patterns calmly

• Ask neutral questions

• Outline action steps

• Let the player talk without trying to rescue them

This reinforces trust — not just in the plan, but in you.

Struggle is not a threat to development. It’s the filter that proves who knows how to grow — and who just knows how to train.

The best coaches don’t protect players from it. They teach players how to stand up inside of it.

Environment Design — How Reps, Roles, and Schedules Can Support or Smother

How the best programs match development environments to where the player actually is — not where they wish he was.

Even with the right mindset and the right language, development can still go sideways if the environment is wrong.

Too many players get sent into cages, bullpens, or roles designed for someone they’re not — yet.

• A hitter in transition gets thrown 90 reps of chaos when he needs 15 reps of precision.

• A pitcher with a new arm slot gets asked to compete full-tilt before he has shape awareness.

• A freshman who’s still building belief gets buried in the lineup or used sporadically — then judged for not adapting fast.

In the best organizations, environments aren’t fixed. They’re tuned to the player’s current bandwidth, growth phase, and identity stability.

Done right, the environment becomes a support system. Done wrong, it becomes a performance trap.

The Environment Is the Coach You Didn’t Assign

You can say all the right things in a meeting. But if the daily work contradicts the message, the player won’t trust either one.

Example:

• You say, “Be where your feet are” — but the player gets bounced between roles every week.

• You say, “Trust the plan” — but the reps shift daily and nothing feels repeatable.

• You say, “We believe in you,” — but you bury the player after a bad stretch without communication.

The environment always tells the truth.

And if the environment is mismatched to the player’s state, it either:

• Creates confusion (I don’t know what I’m supposed to be working on)

• Reinforces anxiety (I’m clearly not where they want me to be)

• Breaks belief (They’re saying the right thing but showing the opposite)

Rep Design: Shrink the Chaos, Expand the Clarity

One of the biggest variables in development environments is rep structure:

• How much is thrown at the player?

• How clear is the task?

• Is success even possible based on current ability?

Poor rep design for struggling players:

• High velocity + shape variety + decision-making + competition

• “Figure it out” feedback

• Volume-based approach ("Just keep going")

Effective rep design:

• Fewer decisions

• Slower tempo

• One variable at a time

• Clear, visible feedback loop

• Built to produce early traction, not test game readiness

The job isn’t to protect players from difficulty. It’s to deliver difficulty that they’re currently capable of solving.

Role Clarity Creates Belief (Even When It’s Small)

You don’t need to hand a player the #3 hitter job to create belief. You just need to assign a stable, meaningful role that they can invest in and build from.

That means:

• Consistent use, even in a low-leverage spot

• Predictable opportunities to prep and contribute

• Honest conversations about the current role and path forward

• Avoiding “maybe” roles that constantly shift and never stabilize

Players don’t need stardom. They need a signal that their time and identity matter.

Schedule = Signal

Inconsistent schedules communicate two things:

1. We’re not sure what to do with you

2. You’re not part of the core group

Smart orgs build:

• Training blocks that reflect developmental priorities (e.g., extra vision work post-cage)

• Flexible groupings that allow work to match where a player is mentally and physically

• Predictable daily/weekly patterns that lower stress and raise intent

Even small tweaks to timing, pacing, or order of operations can either amplify a player’s clarity — or kill it.

You can’t coach players through struggle or surge without matching the space to the state.

Because development doesn’t just happen in meetings. It happens where they stand, sweat, train, and try — every day.

Build that world carefully. It teaches more than you think.

Internal Language — How Your Words Signal Belief, Pressure, or Panic

What players hear when you speak — and what they carry away from it when they leave.

You can design the perfect rep. Set the right schedule. Match the role to the identity. But if the internal language — the daily verbal environment — sends mixed signals, players will default to fear.

Because the words you use don’t just communicate information. They communicate tone. They tell a player:

• Whether he’s trusted or being tested

• Whether you’re calm or concerned

• Whether his current state is part of the plan — or a problem to solve

In high-variance environments, language becomes the stability point. And when used precisely, it becomes one of the most powerful development tools in the system.

Language Builds (or Breaks) Identity

When a player is in transition — hot, cold, or stuck — your language either reinforces their identity or fractures it.

Compare these:

❌ “You’ve got to give us something soon.”✅ “We’re committed to this phase — let’s stay on plan.”

❌ “You’re just in one of those funks.”✅ “Your body’s ahead of your brain right now — that’s part of growth.”

❌ “He’s just not ready yet.” (To staff)✅ “He’s mid-cycle. The next three weeks matter a lot.” (To staff)

These aren’t just words. They’re signals — about who that player is, what the program sees, and what’s expected next.

Once a player hears panic, conditional trust, or passive detachment, his self-narrative begins to slip. And the rep quality follows.

Avoiding the Language of Panic

Coaches under pressure tend to externalize their uncertainty — often without knowing it.

Examples of panic-coded language:

• “We’re not sure what’s going on with him right now.”

• “We might need to start looking at other options.”

• “We’ve tried everything with this guy.”

• “You need to start showing something.”

Even when not said directly to the player, this language often leaks. And when it does, it tells the athlete:

We don’t know how to help you anymore.

Instead, strong internal systems use anchored language:

• “He’s in a delay phase — nothing wrong, just not aligned yet.”

• “This is a behavior moment, not a skill moment.”

• “We’re going to see if his adjustment holds over this next block.”

This keeps coaches calm. And more importantly, it keeps players in the process.

The Best Language Sounds Calm — Even When Stakes Are High

Urgency doesn't require volume. Accountability doesn't require anger. And belief doesn't require fluff.

A well-trained voice sounds like this:

• “This part of your game isn’t stable yet — we’ll keep building it until it is.”

• “We don’t need results this week — we need repeatable reps.”

• “You're in a pressure phase. That’s not bad. It’s part of building trust.”

This kind of language is surgical. It keeps emotion off the table. It protects the player’s bandwidth and keeps the coach in control — even when the line graph dips.

Consistency > Charisma

Great internal language systems don’t rely on elite communicators. They rely on alignment.

That means:

• The player hears the same language from multiple coaches

• The message in meetings matches the message in reps

• The tone around the player doesn’t swing with performance

It also means staff rooms don’t gossip in shorthand. Language like “he’s just not a guy,” “he’s getting passed,” or “he’s not built for this” eventually leaks into posture, tone, and decisions — even if never said aloud to the player.

Great staffs use language that protects their own credibility. Not because it’s soft — but because it’s precise.

You don’t just coach with drills. You coach with words.

And in a game full of chaos, a player will remember not just what you said — but how you made him feel when you said it.

So speak like someone who knows the plan, trusts the cycle, and coaches the player — not the results.