"If body language is bad, you will never get in the game. Ever. I don't care how good you are."

That’s Geno Auriemma, 11-time national champion and Hall of Fame coach at UConn.

Watch here: Geno Auriemma talk about the importance of body language  

I learned this lesson long before I heard Geno say it.

Jim Foster, my coach at URI, drilled it into us early. Your body language tells your opponent everything they need to know. Don't let them see you rattled. Don't let them see you fading. Control your presence, even if you have to fake it.

Ten years in pro ball taught him what Geno knows. The moment you show weakness, your opponent takes it. Here's the truth Foster helped me understand: you have to be the one to believe body language matters.

Now as a coach, I see the same thing my coaches saw. I can read a kid before they ever step into the box. It's all there in how they carry themselves.

Here are the three patterns I see most often and how to fix each one.

Shoulders sag when they aren’t playing their favorite position.
Dragging their feet during drills.
Head down, energy gone.

What it broadcasts:
“I’ve given up. Don’t expect much from me.”

The reset:
Force movement with purpose.
“Sprint to your position.”
“First one back leads us off.”

Get the body into a ready state. The mind follows.

The dramatic sigh after a called strike.
The side-eye toward the dugout.
The slow walk back after strike three so everyone knows it “wasn’t their fault.”

What it broadcasts:
“Someone else is responsible for my results.”

The reset:
“That at bat is over. What’s your plan for the next one?”
Compete with the pitcher, not the umpire.
One is controllable. One isn’t.

Standing in the outfield with no awareness.
Quiet dugout presence.
Warm-ups on autopilot.

What it broadcasts:
“I don’t care about this team.”

The reset:
Give them a role.
“Track pitches.”
“You’re our dugout energy.”

Purpose pulls players back into the game.

You don't always know when your body language is working against you. I didn't, until two teammates pulled me aside.

Freshman year at Lincoln High School, I got the start in a playoff game. First varsity start. I was 14 facing 17 and 18-year-olds who looked like grown men.

I was amped, until I realized the strike zone I had in JV didn’t exist anymore. Nothing was going my way and I could feel the game slipping.

My body language showed it.

Between innings, two upperclassmen I looked up to since I was a kid, Mick Lefort and Jad Prachniak, pulled me aside outside the dugout. They didn't talk mechanics. They didn't mention the umpire. They talked about me.

They told me I belonged, that I needed to dig in and carry myself like I'd been there before.

I straightened up. Walked back to the mound with more confidence and attacked hitters instead of reacting to everything else.

I don't remember the score of that game. But I remember that moment. Because that conversation changed everything I understood about competing.

And I have no problem doing it.

Coach Foster did it. Every great coach I've known does it. No exceptions.

When I sit a kid, I tell them immediately why:

Not because of a strikeout.
Not because of an error.

But because they walked out to their position with their head down.
Because they sulked.
Because their body quit before they did.

I need them to stand tall. Acknowledge the mistake. Put it behind them. Be a great teammate.

Show me you can do that, and I'll put you right back in.

If you can't? Someone else will take your spot.

Body language isn't optional, it's a standard. And every player, regardless of talent, is held to it.

Body language is a choice. It doesn't require talent, lessons, or money. It requires awareness and discipline.

Mentally tough kids aren't the ones who never feel frustration, they're the ones who refuse to broadcast it.

Geno Auriemma said it best:

Bad body language? You'll never play. Ever. No matter how good you are.

That's the standard. Meet it, or watch from the bench.

Help me keep more kids in the game. If you found this helpful, please forward it to another parent or coach.

Thanks for being here. See you next week Inside the Dugout.

-Coach Steve-

Steve Holmes
Founder, Inside the Dugout
2006 MLB Draft | All-American | Youth Coach | Dad