When a Player Challenges the Practice

Recently, a player challenged one of my practice designs, and I was genuinely glad he did.

The activity was a serving game. You serve, the opponent returns, the point continues, and then when the ball stops, you can pick it up with your racket and serve again from wherever you are on court.

He did not see the point of it. His view was simple and reasonable: in tennis, the serve starts from the baseline. So why would we practise serving from other places?

He had also watched some videos about muscle memory, and he was worried that serving from different positions could interfere with his normal serve. From his perspective, the activity did not look like a useful way to improve the thing he cared about. It looked like a possible distraction from it.

We talked about it for a while. I tried to explain my point of view. I tried to understand his. I tried to align with him on the outcome. I tried to address the conflict he was feeling between the activity and what he believed would help his serve.

And that conversation mattered. Without it, I might have thought he was simply objecting to serving from different positions, when actually he was helping me see something more important about how he understood serving.

Why I Was Glad He Asked

The part I keep coming back to is not that the player did something wrong. Actually, it is the opposite. I want players to challenge me.

I want them to question the activities. I want them to say when something does not make sense. I want them to feel that the session is not something being done to them, but something they are actively part of.

Because it is their learning journey. They are the ones feeling the ball, the pressure, the confusion, the frustration, and the progress. So they have every right to ask a simple question:

“Why are we doing this?”

If I believe in player-centred coaching, then I need to take that question seriously, especially when it reveals that the player and I are not seeing the purpose of the activity in the same way.

That does not mean the player decides every activity, or that the coach disappears. But it does mean I have a responsibility to explain the why behind the practice design in a way the player can connect to their own game.

What the Conversation Surfaced

If he had not asked, I might not have understood what he was carrying into the activity:

after trying this activity before, he felt that his serve had become worse, not better
he felt pulled toward serving harder, even though that was leading to more double faults
we had not really tested the assumption that a slower serve, with more height, spin, or shape, could still cause trouble or help him stay out of trouble

So the deeper issue was not really the court position. It was intention, safety, and what he believed a serve needed to be in order not to get attacked.

I only understood that because he challenged the activity and stayed in the conversation with me. His question made the practice better, because it helped me understand the practice through his eyes.

What I Was Trying to Design

In this case, I do not think I made the purpose clear enough early enough.

The activity was not only about serving from unusual places. If that is what the player heard, I understand why it felt strange.

The baseline serve matters, of course. In the rules of tennis, the serve starts from behind the baseline. But the skill behind the serve is bigger than the baseline position. It includes organising the body for an overhead action, sending the ball with purpose, noticing where the opponent is, and beginning the point with a clear intention rather than just putting the ball in play.

The questions inside the activity were something like:

Can you use an overhead ball, from a static position, to cause trouble?
Can you quickly see where the opponent is?
Can you use court position to your advantage?
Can you start the point with intention instead of just putting the ball in play?
Can the serve become adaptable, not just repeatable?

That was the idea. But an idea that makes sense in the coach’s head is not enough.

If the player cannot enter the task with enough understanding to explore it honestly, then the practice design is not finished yet.

Where I Think I Could Have Done Better

Looking back, where I think I could have done better was in the way I explained my thinking.

When he mentioned ideas like muscle memory, or the importance of tossing the ball in the same place, or the belief that the serve should always be trained from the baseline, I felt myself going deep into theory. Not because I wanted to dismiss his concern, but because I care about these questions and I enjoy helping players examine the ideas they bring to the court.

But there is a risk there.

If I respond too quickly with theory, even with good intentions, the player can start to feel that the things they have read, watched, or believed are simply being labelled as wrong. And that is not the environment I want to create.

The player is not wrong for trying to understand tennis. He is doing exactly what I want players to do: thinking, questioning, researching, and trying to connect ideas to his own game.

“My job is not to make the player feel wrong for the ideas they bring. My job is to help us explore those ideas together.”

That means I need to be careful with how I respond. Sometimes the best first step is not to explain the theory and research. It is to understand what the idea means to the player.

What are they trying to protect?
What are they afraid might happen?
What experience made that idea feel true?
How can we test it together on court?

That is the part I keep thinking about. I want players to bring me the things they have heard, watched, read, or wondered about. I want those conversations. I think they are one of the best ways to make practice more meaningful.

But I also want to handle them in a way that keeps the player feeling safe, respected, and part of the exploration.

That is where I think I still have work to do.

Being Worth Challenging

After the session, I went home and researched the topics he had asked me about.

I had told him I would come back with some articles, and I did. That also felt important to me, because if a player takes the time to think seriously about tennis, I want to take that seriously too.

And I genuinely believe this kind of interaction can make the learning process better.

Not because I had all the answers in the moment.

But because he questioned the activity, I took that seriously, and we now have something better to explore together.

If a player questions me, I want to be the kind of coach who can stay open, reflect, research, and come back better. Autonomy-supportive coaching is not just about giving players freedom. It is also about taking their perspective seriously, offering meaningful rationale, and creating space for ownership.

From a constraints-led perspective, the coach can design environments that invite players to solve real problems. But that design still has to be shared well enough for the player to engage with it.

So maybe the lesson for me was not only about the serve. It was about the responsibility that comes with designing practice.

The activity may have had a purpose. But if I cannot help the player understand that purpose, then I still have work to do.

If I want players to challenge me, I also need to become better at being challenged.

You might also enjoy: What I Owe You as a Coach, Why Not?, and More Questions Than Answers

References and Further Reading

Deci, E. L., & Ryan, R. M. (1985). Intrinsic Motivation and Self-Determination in Human Behavior. Plenum Press.
Renshaw, I., Davids, K., Newcombe, D., & Roberts, W. (2019). The Constraints-Led Approach: Principles for Sports Coaching and Practice Design. Routledge.
Kidman, L. (2005). Athlete-Centred Coaching: Developing Inspired and Inspiring People. Innovative Print Communications.