The day I hit my coach: a lesson in being a mentee

“Trust is not a request. It has to be earned,” my business mentor Jeffrey Gitomer writes in The Little Teal Book of Trust. It is one of those statements that does more than capture attention, it lingers. Gitomer’s book serves as a practical guide for becoming a trusted advisor, mentor, or leader whose influence comes not merely from expertise, but from character. Trust, however, is not only the responsibility of the mentor. It is also the responsibility of the mentee. When we think about mentoring relationships, we often focus on the wisdom, experience, and guidance that flows from mentor to student, yet growth depends just as much on the person receiving the advice. Listening carefully, seeking clarification, and thoughtfully applying guidance are essential skills for anyone who wants to learn and develop. Trust is a two-way street. Being a protégé is not simply about trusting another person’s knowledge. It is also about trusting yourself enough to admit what you do not know. It requires the humility to ask questions, the courage to acknowledge confusion, and the willingness to remain teachable. At a recent Toastmasters meeting, the word of the day was corrigible: capable of being corrected, willing to learn, and open to growth. To me, that word perfectly describes what it means to be a good mentee. A childhood experience taught me this lesson in a memorable way. When I played Little League Baseball, my father was my coach. Athletics did not come naturally to me. In fact, it would be fair to say that no professional scouts were watching me with any interest. Nevertheless, my father never gave up on me. He encouraged me, pushed me to improve, and believed that effort could overcome a lack of natural talent. Being the coach’s son also meant I had to work harder than everyone else to earn my place on the field. One day, he decided to help me improve my batting skills. During practice, he stood in front of me and explained a simple drill. “Bradley,” he said, “hold the bat like you’re about to hit the ball. Imagine the ball is at my chest. Swing hard, but do not follow through. Stop your swing at my chest.” What could go wrong? Then he asked if I was ready. I confidently replied that I was. “Okay, swing.” So, I did. With all the enthusiasm of Babe Ruth calling his shot, I swung the bat, and CRACK, I completely ignored the instruction to stop. The bat careened into my father’s chest with enough force to send a shock through his entire body. He stared at me, first in pain, and then in disbelief, and then in anger. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded, using language that was considerably stronger than the word wrong. “You told me to swing at your chest,” I replied. His answer came quickly. “Did you not hear me say, ‘Stop at my chest’?” The truth was simple: I had not. My young mind heard the first part of the instruction and completely missed the second. Practice ended early that day. For a brief period, I also wondered whether I would survive to adulthood. As funny as the story seems now, the real lesson had nothing to do with baseball. My mistake was not the swing itself. My mistake was acting before I fully understood the instruction. That lesson has stayed with me for decades. And years later, we discovered part of the problem was I needed glasses. Baseball, it turns out, becomes much easier and fun when you can actually see the ball. In every mentor-mentee relationship, trust is built through communication as much as guidance. Before acting on advice, we should listen carefully. We should repeat instructions back to ensure understanding. We should ask clarifying questions and understand the reasoning behind the recommendation. Growth occurs when mentoring becomes a dialogue rather than a one-way exchange. Questions should never be viewed as signs of weakness. In fact, thoughtful questions demonstrate engagement, curiosity, and respect for the mentor’s experience. The willingness to seek clarity often prevents costly misunderstandings and accelerates learning. My father eventually forgave me for nearly cracking his ribs. More importantly, I eventually learned that becoming a good mentee is not a single decision but an ongoing process. It requires humility, patience, and a commitment to continuous improvement. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, “Self-trust is the first secret of success.” His words complement Gitomer’s insight perfectly. Trust yourself enough to learn. Trust your mentor enough to ask questions. And above all, trust the instruction enough to fully understand it before you swing. https://kimmonson.com/featured_articles/the-day-i-hit-my-coach/