This is a tough admission but I think after all these years of coaching it’s time for me to drop a major truth bomb. And that truth bomb is: I can’t make you/your daughter better.

Shocking, I know, but hear me out I’ve spent a lot of time instructing fastpitch softball players, and even more time studying the latest research and thinking on the subject as well as what the best players in the world actually do (versus what they say they do sometimes).

Yet for all that work and effort, I am admitting that I can’t make the students who come to me better.

I can show them how to perform various skills. I can explain and demonstrate the movements required to perform at a higher level. I can offer corrections to help shortcut the learning process.

I can help them understand the “why” behind the “what” to make it easier to internalize and execute the necessary techniques. I can even help them overcome a crisis of confidence when adversity strikes.

But for all that knowledge and experience, I still can’t make them better. Because in order for students to get better, they have to take an action.

The first action is to listen to and try to understand what I’m telling them. That might seem obvious, but it’s actually not.

Any honest instructor will tell you they’ve had students who showed up to lessons but didn’t want to listen to what that instructor said. They wanted to do it their way.

In my case, I’ve had “students” who, when I said “here, try this” would give me a side eye as if to say, “You can’t make me do that.”

And they were correct. I can’t.

Of course, if you want to keep doing it your way that’s fine, but you’re going to stay where you are instead of getting better. And pretty soon you won’t see progress and decide to move on to the next coach whose instruction you don’t want to follow either.

The second action is to get off your butt and actually work on what the instructor told you during the lesson and whatever homework you’ve been given.

Taking lessons is a good thing, and it’s even better when you’re interested in learning. But the time in-between lessons is where the real magic happens.

Not working between lessons is like buying a really nice car but never actually getting in and driving it. It may look beautiful in the driveway or the garage, but you’re not going anywhere.

The specific actions you take once you decide to take action are also important. For example, a pitcher who is having trouble with accuracy probably doesn’t need to be throwing from the full distance.

She needs to move in closer and work on her release – including the way the arm and hand approach release, the exact point where she releases the ball, and what her hand and forearm do at that precise moment. All of those factors can and will affect where the ball goes.

If the pitcher moves in close she can rid herself of all the distractions of the rest of the pitching movement and just focus on the part that’s doing her in – the release. And the great thing about that is she doesn’t even need a field or facility, a catcher, or much of anything else.

A bucket of balls and a net to throw to, or even a rolled up pair of socks and a handy wall, will give her everything she needs to work on those movements and lock them in.

The same goes for a hitter. Let’s say that hitter is having trouble keeping her hands from leading the swing (instead of letting her body turn first).

She can work slowly on that part of the swing while shooting a video of what she’s doing so she can check. If she doesn’t have access to a phone or other camera, she can look in a mirror.

She doesn’t need a bat or the space to swing it either. She can take a sawed off dowel rod or the core from a roll of paper towels with some rags stuffed in it to work on getting her sequence so ingrained that when she gets back on the tee or even faces a live pitcher again it happens automatically.

That’s the type of work it takes to get better. But I can’t make you do any of that, which is why I say I can’t make you better.

Going back to our car analogy, the instructor or coach is like the GPS system for getting better. He or she can tell a student turn-by-turn how to get started and how to get to her destination.

But it’s up to that student to get in the car, start driving, and then follow those directions. Otherwise she’s either not going anywhere or putting herself at risk of following a path that will take her even further away from her destination.

So again, I fully admit can’t make you better. You have to do that. I can only show you the way.