More Questions Than Answers

I often leave coaching sessions with more questions than answers.

At first, that can feel like a weakness. A coach is supposed to know, right? See the problem, explain the solution, and guide the player towards the correct answer.

But the more I coach, the more I feel that one of the most important parts of coaching happens after the session ends. I go home and I keep thinking.

The Questions That Stay

Some questions are simple. Some are uncomfortable. Some stay with me for days.

What surprised me today?
What did the players ask?
What did I not understand?
Why did one constraint help one player, but not another?
Why did a game create joy today, but frustration last week?
Did I intervene too much, or too little?
What did the player teach me today?

I try to register these moments, even quickly on my phone. Not as a formal report. Not as a perfect coaching diary. More like small traces of curiosity.

Court hours matter. Experience matters. Seeing many players, problems, personalities, and behaviours matters. But experience alone is not learning.

“Experience gives us material. Reflection turns it into learning.”

I do not have the same amount of on-court experience as coaches who have been doing this full time for many years. In a way, that makes reflection even more important. I cannot rely only on volume. I need each session to teach me as much as possible.

Beyond The Next Drill

There is a phrase I have heard from Steve Whelan that stayed with me: coaches are often chasing the next drill. I recognise that temptation: the next clever exercise, the next progression, the next game that looks good on court.

But maybe the real chase should be better questions.

A certain exercise is only useful if we understand why we are using it. What problem does it create for the player? What behaviour does it invite? How close is it to the game? What might the player discover inside it?

“A good practice design is not just an activity. It is a question placed in front of the player.”

This is why I think coaching needs more space for reflection. In software engineering, where I also work, teams often use retrospectives: what went well, what did not, what patterns are we noticing, what should we change?

I wonder if coaching needs more of that same habit. Not only conversations about fixing a forehand or improving a slice, but conversations about learning.

Did the environment invite the behaviour we hoped for?
Was the player engaged?
Did the session protect their motivation?
Was the pressure coming from the game, or from me?

Those questions feel just as important as the technical ones.

Where I Take My Questions

The resources I learn from are not only places where I look for answers. They are places where I take questions.

Steve Whelan’s MyTennisCoaching Academy has been the most important resource for me. It was the place I learned about ecological dynamics and evidence-based coaching. What sets it apart is having a community of like-minded coaches: sharing doubts, ideas, concerns with other coaches helps me see more clearly.

I also learn from spaces around youth sport and healthier sport environments, like Healthy Sports Parents and the Aspen Institute’s Project Play. Coaching is also about the environment around the player, and that is key for skill acquisition. Do they feel safe? Do they feel they belong? Are they allowed to fail? Are they learning to love the game?

Podcasts like Tennis Insider Club help differently. Hearing players and coaches speak honestly about pressure, doubts, unusual paths, and the person behind the ranking helps me stay more empathetic.

And I can still learn from coaches whose framework is different from mine. Tomaz Mencinger from Feel Tennis is a good example. There is a lot of useful content that I can listen, question, adapt, and translate ideas through my own lens.

And I keep trying to learn from outside tennis too.

What can tennis learn from basketball, where constraints-led approaches and ecological dynamics seem to have been explored for longer?
What can we learn from fighting sports and the way they practice decision-making under pressure?
What can I learn from my sister-in-law or mother-in-law, who work with children every day and understand learning in ways many coaches may overlook?

Staying Open

I think the key here is always staying open.

That does not mean having no principles. Some things should be non-negotiable: safety, respect, dignity, and the player’s right to be treated as a person before being treated as a performer.

I strongly believe in creating safe environments. I strongly believe in evidence-informed coaching. I strongly believe the game, the player, and the environment should guide learning.

But I also think we need to be careful not to turn our methods into things we protect.

The danger is not having strong values. The danger is confusing those values with fixed answers.

A coach can believe deeply in ecological dynamics and still ask: did this constraint actually help this player? Did this game invite the behaviour I expected? Did I see the player clearly, or did I only see my own idea of what should happen?

A beginner mindset does not mean pretending we know nothing. It means holding our values firmly, our assumptions carefully, and our methods lightly.

That is one of the habits I want to protect most in my coaching: to keep wondering, to keep noting small moments, and to keep learning from every session that does not go exactly as expected.

Maybe a good coaching session should not only leave the player with learning.

Maybe it should also leave the coach with questions.

The most important coaching habit may not be collecting drills. It may be collecting better questions.

You might also enjoy: The Player Comes First and Practice Should Prepare You for the Game You Actually Play