What's the best thing to do when a coach yells at you?

As I much as I would hate it, I would hold my tongue and let them go off on me.

But the Jay Mariotti/Skip Bayless evil side of me would the following: hold my tongue, and then when I write up the story, I would write, verbatim, everything they said, and add some smart-assed rebuttal after each comment or outburst.

Then I'll head back to the locker room or presser and see what he has to say after that. His GM and owner would be wise to tell him to STFU and refrain from responding back.

 

Please share, even if it's not your story.

 

Years ago I had a pro baseball player threaten to crack a bat over my head if I ever wrote anything about him ever again. I was 21 at the time and started to walk out of the locker room. Halfway across it I figure if I go out the door then I'm inviting the same treatment from 24 other guys. So I turn around, walked up to the player, and told him I didn't have any children yet, but if he wanted to help my future ones go to the college of their choice, he could just go ahead and swing away.
The guy cracked a grin and we eventually had a pretty good relationship; in fact I wound up being the one reporter he always talked to during the bad times as well as the good. And when the other players heard what I told him, I got a bit of applause.

 

In a press conference,
"Coach, I'd be happy to discuss this with you further afterward, but in the meantime, there's people here with a job to do and deadlines to meet."

 

You had better hope that your bosses will support you on this. I have done this, but when the people call your boss and the publisher starts getting e-mails, it really doesn't matter if you were right or not. Your ass will have some explaining to do.

 

Early on, the first time I talked to the coach of the C-USA team I covered, he kind of let me have it over something I wrote in an advance on a C-USA/SEC game that he said implied the Conference USA was less than the SEC. He said the players work just as hard and it demeans them to have someone imply they aren't as competitive or as good as those at this SEC school. I meekly apologized and our working relationship was fine thereafter and I actually respect the guy. However, I'm sure he doesn't even remember the exchange, while, for some reason, I do. I think the hardest part was that I didn't feel I said anything offensive and was caught off guard by his reaction. In retrospect, I don't think I would ask him to spell retard, but I would have defended myself a little more. As I've gotten older, I feel a little more entitled to some respect and the right to not be scolded like a child.

 

High school playoff game. The team I'm covering loses in overtime. I want to speak with a senior who was graduating and just played his last game for the school.

Coach steps in front and says "give him a minute, he's upset."

I get a quick quote from someone else and keep trucking toward the crying senior (I'm on deadline).

Coach says "God damn it, I said give him a minute!"

I calmly say, "I'd like to speak with him soon, I'm on deadline."

Coach keeps going crazy, in front of other coaches, players, the other paper's reporter.

I just look at him and say, sternly, "You know, you don't have to be an asshole."

I was young. Wrong on my part. Yes, I know that.

Before I got back to the office there was a long, long apologetic message from the coach.

 

At my last shop, we had a female reporter that covered mostly New Hampshire stuff (this paper is based in border towns in Massachusetts). Anyway, the big game between Bumfuck and East Bumfuck was called off for a bomb threat and there was a chance it wasn't going to happen at all. This reporter - we'll call her Jillian Custard calls the coach of one team after hearing they may be able to find a day to sneak in the game. Now this coach is known to be very vocal with anyone who will listen, and he was going on about how he would do anything to get this game in, no matter what, these two teams need to play each other. As I sit at the desk next to her, she says "Coach you are in a state of denial".
Fast forward to the next Monday when the game is played.
JC just happened to be on vacation and wasn't there. A female reporter from another paper (funny enough the one I am currently at) is in attendance. So Coach B's team wins and at his postgame midfield presser calls out the only female present - "So Jillian you think I'm still in a state of denial. I think we played football today, but I'm the one in a state of denial huh?"
Another reporter says hey that ain't Jillian. He laughs and apologizes to the other reporter, who lets him know he may have a little fun with this one in a column.
THAT CREATED THIS:

WHO THE HELL IS JILLIAN CUSTARD
I approached the triumphant football coach minutes after one of the biggest wins of his illustrious career on Monday afternoon with several questions.
Ten minutes later, my only question was: Who the hell is Jillian?
"Do you still think I'm in a state of denial, Jillian?'' Bumfuck coach B.O. barked.
My blank expression barely slowed him down.
"I told you we were going to play this game. Don't you remember talking to me three nights ago and telling me the game had been canceled? And I told you we'd play. And you told me I was in a state of denial.''
Maybe it was the mid-November playoff game-like temperatures in the low 40s that affected my brain cells, but he had me actually trying to remember if I'd talked to any coach on Friday. And I have Fridays off.
"Uh, . . . Coach, . . . this isn't Jillian,'' said fellow sports writer Mailing Itin, helpfully.
It was B.O's only bad call of the game, a tremendous 23-17 affair that further spiced the dynamic Division I playoff picture. It had all the traditional intensity the rivalry produces, the plays by great players, the great plays by well-coached, overachieving players, the great hits, blocks, scrambles, passes, catches and decisions.
You had East Bumfuck coming in on the heels of an overwhelming win over early-season juggernaut Concord and Bumfuck with its best shot at beating its archrivals in three years.
It didn't need any artificial emotional stimulus to fire up the troops. It certainly didn't need a couple of mental giants with nothing better to do than threaten to blow up East Bumfuck High School.
The resulting cancellation of classes and extracurricular activities disrupted a unique New England tradition -- the Merry Plaque weekend of head-to-head games between the rivals in every fall sport.
On Friday, school officials scrambled to solve the problem of how and where to safely stage the football showdown. One option was to play at Gill Stadium in Manchester with no fans. Another was to forfeit.
Apparently, B.O. had discussed those earlier options with Christian Local Ledger sports writer Jillian Custard.
Eventually, Alvirne rode to the rescue by offering to hold the game with no admission price on Monday.
"We'd had a great week of practice,'' said East Bumfuck senior Matt Trombley, who played an outstanding game on both sides of the ball and on special teams. "And (the bomb threats) threw us off track. It definitely made an impact. We were fired up, then we were mad, than we had to get ready to play again.''
Bumfuck quarterback/safety Nick Barka downplayed the distractions.
"We approached the game all weekend as if we were playing no matter what,'' said Barka, who threw a 23-yard touchdown pass early in the first quarter and had a key interception. "It was great to finally get on the field and play the game.''
Did the roller coaster of emotions generated by the frustrating situation contribute to the spectacularly entertaining 14-14 first quarter?
"You're just looking for an angle to write about, Jillian,'' B.O. accused.
He was half-right.
"Have you ever been to a East Bumfuck-Bumfuck game? That's the kind of hitting, the kind of emotion this game always has. We had a great week of practice, this was as well-scouted a game as we've prepared for in a long time.''
That's undeniable.

NOTE: Some names were changed to protect the ridiculed.

 

I'd been at my first newspaper job about four months, and I'd pushed to do the paper's first-ever football tab. The day after it hit the stands, I go to talk to one of the area coaches, whose team had gone 1-8 or 2-9 the year before, and the tab story mentioned how they'd lost the last seven or eight in a row. So I talk to the coach -- this is 1 on 1 -- and we're about to wrap it up when he says, "Don't put that shit about losing streaks in the paper." I said, "If you don't want it in the paper, don't have a losing streak." I'm sure I was branded as a smartass (aren't we all), but he and I got along surprisingly well after that.

I don't remember what I'd written, but another time, a basketball coach called me out in front of all his players near the end of a practice. I took it without comment then, but the next time I was there I talked to him one on one and told him I really didn't appreciate it. For that bit of honesty I got more cooperation than I might have otherwise.

 

Rip a big, juicy fart, then look the coach in the eyes and say, "You're welcome." And just walk away.

You may not make any friends, but there's not a thing you'll feel bad about on the drive home.

 

I had it happen to me twice when I was covering MLS:

One, I asked the coach of the home team about the team's shoddy midfield play (nearly everyone in the press box, outside the stadium et. al agreed it was crap) and the coach got on my case, asking me when I got my coaching license. I don't think I said much of anything, but he eventually answered my question. Before the next home match, a columnist from one of the dailies there came up to me and told me the coach's actions were uncalled for. He also said I was absolutely right about the team's midfield play. Later on, the same coach addressed me by name after I asked him a question and he said "I think that goes back to your earlier question forever_town."

Two, I asked the coach of the visiting team about their then 12-game losing streak to the home team at that stadium and he said, "I don't need to talk about it, you guys talk about it all the time." Since I was writing an analysis/opinion piece, I wrote it as "[Hardass] snapped." It's one of the few times I didn't just write "said." After the next home match, he immediately addressed the team's then 13-game losing streak at that stadium. I also called him on trash talking he did after his team's home game in that series.

I just let 'em unload. Take the high road. If they try to give me grief before the next game, I just let 'em know I'm there to do a job.

 

Just 30 minutes?