Locker Room Culture And Band Dynamics Are Not So Different

Don’t be a locker room scourge like me.

Every time I hear about analytics being the predominant factor for trading or acquiring players in a sport, I roll my eyes. Okay, the numbers look good. But what are they like as a person? Are they a jerk? Do they pick fights? Do they put people down? Do they work hard? Do they show up on time? Do they encourage teammates who are in a slump?

We know plenty of athletes who lack quality in the character department. If character and potential for friendship is not strong, they risk the phenomenon of a locker room scourge. I learned this concept the hard way by becoming a locker room scourge in my band.

I’ll get to the main point first: an athlete does not produce their numbers alone of their own accord, even in solo sports like golf. It is the result of great partnerships. Similarly, a band does not achieve recognition or positively-reviewed performances or albums when they have beef with each other.

When my Mets, at the beginning of the 2023 season acquired Justin Verlander, I knew the season was going to be a wash. Not because JV is a bad player, certainly not, but because he’s known to act pretentious which is a no-go in a locker room known for their close friendships and ability to admit their deficits. (There’s a reason they finished 100+ wins last year but absolutely flopped this year after being gutted of core players)

Justin is rumored to be arrogant, and rumored to whine about how Houston had a better analytics department. He couldn’t relate to younger players, didn’t form deep connections with veteran players, and had pre-existing beef with Max Scherzer, the other vet pitcher.

Who knows if players of their intensity and caliber can ever truly get over ancient beef, too. It’s probably why when he was traded BACK to Houston mid-2023, they went on to the postseason, because he was back with his bros and his esteemed analytics department.

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Friends! Credit: Matt Herrebout

When I joined my band in 2011 or so at the ripe old age of 21, the other three members and I had been friends for years already, growing up in the same city with our separate bands playing together as teenagers. It was a match made in heaven.

The first four years and two albums of our growth were magically collaborative and unique, with everyone contributing sounds, finding quirky ways to string them together, and being on the same page as far as who we wanted to be and what we wanted to accomplish.

Album 3 released in 2017 was our pinnacle, but also marked the start of “creative differences” as far as where we wanted our band to go. Half the band wanted to ascend to the highest quality production, record labels, big PR campaigns, touring as much as possible, focusing on “mystique” and theatrics.

And half of us wanted to stay guerrilla- funding production ourselves, playing intimate, smaller venues that sold out and were cheap for people to attend (and as a byproduct, keeping 100% of our profits), keeping photo shoots/music videos/performative PR releases minimal, and allowing human elements like accidental flubs to exist in the recordings (because it just isn’t that important, and even diminishing returns, to play every part 20 times and take 13 days to JUST record).

So I felt myself tapping out. Being who I am, unable to bring myself to complete tasks for the benefit of other people if I myself don’t feel the end result will be genuine, fulfilling, or meaningful, couldn’t hide it.

Writing suffered because our process had changed in a way where I saw most of my unique contributions or suggestions thrown out. I didn’t care about bigger and bigger tours and venues, because it occurred to me as a superficial exhibition for eyeballs instead of intimacy. I’ve written about the phenomenon of superficiality and “selling out” before.

And what’s the point of doing something superficial just because eyeballs will look at it? What’s the point of “growth” if you’re one of thousands of bands obsessed with superficial, performative “content” for lack of a better word, if you don’t even feel like you had much of a say in creating it?

As time passed, I got meaner. They got meaner. We stopped hanging out outside of band practices because I didn’t like them and they didn’t like me. Until all of a sudden, I realized I didn’t even have a baseline of friendship with these people, any more.

The friendship and deep care was long gone, and in its place, resentment, dread, and vitriol. And maybe a touch of feeling like I was only still in the band because there were no other keyboardists who also sing available in town to take over, at least not until July 2022, which was my final show.

Somewhere along the way I sacrificed my vulnerability, and as a result, my character and integrity weakened. It was me who had become the locker room scourge.

If I had gotten my triggers under control sooner, and learned to express my feelings in healthy ways, maybe I would still have three long-term friends. Maybe I’d have felt my contributions being appreciated and welcomed. Maybe my perspective on “recognition” and the point of achieving it, would feel more authentic.

I might feel like I’m deeply moving a thousand people at once, instead of trudging through the performance of a set I’ve played a hundred times and am bored with, in order to sell merchandise, in order to do that whole process again.

Not as much friends. Credit: Alvino Salcedo

What I realized is, the tightness of your relationships, caring about your people, and feeling like THEY care about YOU, and YOUR wants, goals, and needs, improves integrity as a natural byproduct of friendship.

That’s what I don’t understand about teams making trades because of stats. When you get rid of a player who is “underperforming” in lieu of someone who is a great lefty at-bat, and you hear other players on the team pissed that they got rid of a “great locker room guy”, your season is doomed.

Camaraderie matters. Being surrounded by people that you get silly with when you’re all collecting hit after hit after hit, matters. Jamming in a basement with your friends because it feels great to bond with your favorite people, matters. Being surrounded by people that make you stoked to do the same thing all day every day is crucial.

If you’re not stoked, your routine becomes mundane. The things you need to do in order to be high-performing become “work”. You lose the “reason why”: because it’s FUN!

To wrap it up, I resent the focus on superficial performance measurers rather than character. It’s PEOPLE that make us work harder and be our best- our success is as a result of our partnerships with other people, always. We must cultivate that and preserve it when it’s there.

And for the love of god, stop making trades for players/musicians whose character sucks just because they performed well some place else with a different group of people.