Why Good Coaching Is About What You Don’t Do
This is something most coaches don’t learn early.
In the beginning, coaching often looks like adding. More sessions. More detail. More cues. More structure. It feels productive, and it feels like value. Athletes leave tired, sessions look full, and everyone feels like something important must be happening.
Over time, you start to realise that this instinct can quietly become the biggest limiter to progress.
This is usually learned the hard way
Most experienced coaches can point to a period where they did too much.
Not because they didn’t care, or didn’t know enough, but because adding feels safer than removing. If an athlete isn’t improving, it’s tempting to layer on more work. Another session. Another focus. Another intervention.
Sometimes that works in the short term. More often, it just creates noise. Fatigue increases, clarity drops, and the athlete becomes busy rather than better.
Learning when not to add is one of the slower lessons in coaching.
Doing more is the easy option
Adding training is straightforward. Anyone can write a harder session or increase volume.
Deciding not to is harder, because it requires judgement. It means accepting that progress isn’t always visible week to week. It means resisting the pressure to prove value through exhaustion. And it means trusting that adaptation needs space as well as stimulus.
Good coaching often looks underwhelming from the outside. Sessions aren’t chaotic. Training weeks aren’t crammed. The work is focused, and there’s a clear reason why certain things are left alone.
That restraint is deliberate, not accidental.
Athletes often equate effort with effectiveness
This is understandable. Most adults have learned that working harder is usually rewarded.
In training, though, effort is only useful if it’s applied in the right direction. Without guidance, athletes tend to fill gaps with intensity. They push when they’re unsure. They add when they’re anxious about doing enough.
Part of good coaching is protecting athletes from that instinct. Not by removing challenge, but by deciding where challenge actually belongs.
Sometimes the most effective intervention is holding a line, not pushing it further.
What gets left out matters just as much
Good coaching isn’t just about choosing the right exercises, sessions, or training phases. It’s also about deciding what doesn’t make the cut.
That might mean:
Not chasing every metric
Not fixing everything at once
Not turning every session into a test
Not responding emotionally to short-term dips
These decisions rarely draw attention. But over months and years, they’re what keep athletes progressing without burning out or breaking down.
The absence of unnecessary work is often what allows the important work to land.
Restraint comes from confidence, not caution
Choosing not to do something is often mistaken for being conservative.
In reality, restraint usually comes from experience. From having seen athletes improve when given space. From recognising patterns. From understanding that progress isn’t linear, and that not every dip needs a response.
Coaching at its best isn’t about control. It’s about direction. Knowing where you’re trying to go, and being comfortable with the pace required to get there.
That’s why good coaching is often quieter than people expect.
What this looks like in practice
For athletes, this usually shows up as training that feels purposeful rather than overwhelming.
They know what they’re focusing on. They understand why some things aren’t being pushed right now. And over time, they notice that consistency improves because training feels manageable, not constantly on edge.
That’s rarely achieved by doing more.
It’s achieved by doing less; better.