The Smallest Form of Reciprocity

One thing I have noticed in every Mindset Uprogram is this:

At the beginning of the month, or at the beginning of a new program, the responses are usually strong. I send a message and almost everybody replies. Some people like the message. Some say, “Got it.” Some say, “Thanks Coach.” Some give some kind of response.

There is reciprocation.

Then, as time goes on, that little habit starts to disappear.

A DM gets ignored. An email sits there. A Slack message gets read but not answered. A text gets opened and dies in the little digital graveyard where responsibility goes to nap.

And here is the point.

This is not about me needing polite messages. I don’t need you to make me feel special. I don’t need a parade every time I send a reminder. I am not sitting around waiting for a “thank you” like some ex-girlfriend.

This is about practice.

The smallest amount of reciprocity matters.

When somebody sends you a message, especially somebody who is coaching you, helping you, teaching you, guiding you, or potentially opening doors for you, there should be some kind of response.

It does not need to be long.

“Got it.” “Received.” “Thanks Coach.”

“I’ll get that done.” “I’ll send it tonight.” “Can I clarify one thing?” That is it.

Small. Clean. Professional.

But it tells me something.

It tells me you are paying attention. It tells me you understand the relationship. It tells me you can handle basic communication. It tells me you are not treating everything like a casual group chat with your buddies.

And if your goal is to play collegiate baseball, this stuff matters more than you think.

You should treat every person in your baseball life as if they may be able to help you one day. A coach. A teacher. A trainer. A scout. A current college player. A former player. A teammate’s parent. A program director. Somebody you do not even fully understand yet.

That does not mean you fake it. That does not mean you become a professional suck-up. Nobody respects that either. It means you build a standard.

Because the truth is, I am one of those people who can help.

I do help athletes get scholarships. I do make phone calls. I do talk to college coaches. I do put my name behind players when I believe it is appropriate. And when I do that, my character and reputation are attached to the recommendation.

So, yes, I take everything into account.

Not just your swing. Not just your velocity. Not just your stats. Not just your highlight video.

I take into account how you communicate. How you respond. How you follow through. How you handle simple tasks. How you behave when nobody is clapping for you. How you treat the small things that do not look important.

Because the small things are usually the truth.

If I have to chase you for basic responses, what am I supposed to tell a college coach?

“He’s really committed, except when you need him to communicate.”

That sentence does not exactly scream scholarship.

There is also a proper mode of communication depending on the situation.

If you are talking to a superior, a coach, a teacher, a program director, an employer, or anybody who can potentially help you in a formal sense, use the right channel. Sometimes that means text. Sometimes that means email. Sometimes that means Slack. Sometimes that means a phone call. But do not rely only on casual speaking.

A spoken conversation disappears fast. A proper message creates clarity. It shows intention. It gives both people something to refer back to. It removes confusion. This is part of growing up as an athlete. When I was coaching and recruiting in college baseball I would literally share letters or emails I got that had a few minutes of effort put into them Small things like periods, commas, a new paragraph... though and application of what you’re learning in school. I’d share them with my other coaches and colleagues because it’s rare. You are not just training to hit, throw, catch, pitch, lift, or compete. You are training to become someone a college program can trust. When I message you, my messages may be short. They may be direct. That is intentional. I am running the program. I am the adult in the coach position. That is the chain of command. But that does not mean your response should be lazy, unclear, or absent.

You do not need to write me a novel. Please do not. I have a life.

You do need to respond.

That is the practice.

Because one day it may not be me.

It may be a college coach.

It may be a recruiter.

It may be an employer.

It may be someone deciding whether they can put their name beside yours.

And when that day comes, your communication habits will not magically appear. You will fall back to what you have practised. So practise here.

Respond to the message. Confirm you received it. Ask the question. Send the email or Slack message properly. Use the right tone. Follow through on the little things. And honestly, this letter itself will be a great example of the exact thing I am talking about. Will it sit in the channel?

Some people will open it right away. Some people will read the whole thing. Some people will skim the first three lines and decide they got the point. Some people will leave it sitting there for hours. Some people will not see it because their notifications are off. Some people will see it, think about responding, then move on. Some people will respond because they understand the message behind the message.

This is not a test. But it is funny how everything in life kind of is. Not because someone is trying to catch you. Not because I am sitting here with a clipboard and a whistle, hunting for mistakes like a baseball mall cop. It is a test because your habits are always showing up. The way you read a message is information. The way you respond is information. The way you delay simple things is information. The way you follow through when nobody is forcing you is information. The way you handle something small is usually how you handle something bigger. That is the whole point.

Most athletes think the test is the tournament, the tryout, the showcase, the college coach in the stands, the big at-bat, the phone call, or the recruiting conversation. But the test usually starts way before that. It starts in the little things. It starts with whether you read the message. It starts with whether you answer. It starts with whether you understand the standard.

It starts with whether you can treat a small moment like it actually matters. Because it does. Everything leaves evidence. And the athletes who understand that are usually the ones who separate themselves before the big opportunity ever arrives.

This is not about fear. This is not about perfect manners. This is about understanding that everything you do communicates something. Your behaviour is always sending a signal. Make sure it is the signal you want attached to your name.

Coach P