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In my last post on this topic, I said that one of the most difficult temptations for coaches (and parents) to resist is the tendency to over-coach or over-instruct. The main reason I think that is the case is because in their zeal to help their players or children improve, they often get in the way of the best teacher – pure play.

But I also think there is a darker reason for why many coaches tend to over-coach or over-instruct. It is one I have had to face myself frankly (when instructing), and one that I have seen time and time again as a player. It is an uncomfortable one, but a very real one and, if left unchecked, one that often ruins the connection between player and coach (or parent).

The reason? It is the desire of the coach (or parent) to make himself useful or to justify his position or to speed along the learning process or to feel like he has some semblance of control.

That might sound harsh, but it does make sense when you think about mankind’s great tendency to make a life for himself by his works. Not only that, but it makes sense in light of the how frustrating the coaching experience can be because of how little coaches are actually able to control. Even more, it makes complete sense in light of the great emphasis on ‘success’ and the desire to achieve that success at all costs (this is especially true in college and professional sports). When you have to win to keep your job, it is very difficult not to ‘instruct’ more than you ought.

I have often said that many practices and film sessions I have sat through as a player haven’t really been for me and my team. At least not ultimately. The driving force behind many wasn’t necessarily the good of the team, but the protection of the coach. They were often designed not so much to make us better, but to make sure the coach could say, “Hey, I covered everything and did everything I did to prepare these guys. Now it’s on them.”

And this is true even when it comes to personal instruction. I have done it to a certain degree myself. For when you are paid to help someone improve, it is difficult not to over-instruct in order to make them feel like they are getting their monies worth. So you teach away and usually say all sorts of good, legitimate things. But in the end, you often say and instruct so much that you cause more confusion.

This leads us to point #5.

Show more than tell. Then show some more.

I am not sure how this correlates to other disciplines or activities (though I definitely have some ideas), but in the realm of sports, instruction by imitation seems to work best. By far. A few words are helpful, yes. But not too many. Too many words tend to confuse. It’s better to show than to tell.

I have seen this time and again with my son and with others at various levels of play. I learned early on with my boy that if I tried to explain anything to him about shooting a basketball, he would make an absolute mess of the jump shot and he wouldn’t really enjoy trying. But if I just tell him to do what I do, his jump shot looks pretty sweet and he is freed up to have fun shooting away. I can remember times when I started to forget this lesson and tried to talk to him about the ‘right’ way to shoot. “Keep the ball on your fingertips. Have a good follow through, etc.” He’d barely get the ball to the rim and wouldn’t look good doing it. He’d also want to go home quite quickly. So I would say, “Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Just watch me shoot for a minute and then fire away.” The results were immediate and the fun evident.

I have also seen this be effective with kids of all ages and even professionals. Over-thinking seems to stifle the body’s ability to do what it knows naturally how to do (or at least to empower it to learn the way it best learns). When it comes to teaching your body how to perform a specific physical skill like shooting the ball a certain way or swinging a golf club, you just can’t handle too much instruction. One or two things maybe. But after that, you have to let go and just let your body learn how to hit or shoot the ball. No doubt you will want some instruction. The key, however, is that you won’t want too much instruction. The good instructor will teach you not simply with words, but by example, and by helping you get out of your own way.

It’s funny, but when I work with higher level players, they often ask me what they are doing wrong on their jump shot or what they could improve technically. Usually I might point out one or maximum, two things. But then I say, “Honestly, the biggest thing you have to do is to get out of your own way. For the most part, you are fine. Just shoot the ball. Practice without thinking about it until it goes in as much as you would like it to.”

Profound right? Not at all. But it usually proves very helpful. And it is a lesson that I have to remind myself of time and again. If I want the ball to go in, I just have to shoot it. Try to make it and you are bound to increase your chances for a miss. Fire away and it will probably go in.

I hope that by this time you see how this second part of the post connects with the first. For as a parent or a coach, it takes a good deal of confidence in the natural learning process to say and really believe these sort of things. Not only that, but it takes you giving up control or the desire to justify your place as a coach. For when you rely upon imitation and practice and have to force yourself to keep your mouth more or less shut, you might lose a bit of your status. It might even look like you aren’t helping that much. You become more of a guide and, most tellingly, make yourself more dispensable.

But isn’t this exactly the point? It should be. You don’t want to be needed. Right? You want your players or children to be able to do the skill on their own, without relying on you to give them consistent instruction. At least I hope.

The simple fact is that many coaches struggle with this. Especially coaches that are paid by the hour. Or ones with a great pressure to win. But the interesting thing is that in my experience, the more you allow the player to own the learning process, the more effective you are and the more he or she will want to come to you for help.

That’s right, they will keep coming back, because it is fun for them to do so, indeed because they want to. You might even think to yourself, “I am not really doing anything for you.” But that is largely the point. You are helping them by doing exactly what you should. Keeping things simple, empowering them to learn as they best learn for their good.

And the beauty of it is that this mentality serves them well not simply by enabling them to improve, but by giving them the opportunity to own their improvement and most importantly, to grow in their enjoyment of the game itself. Showing more than telling is not only about teaching them how to play the game, but teaching them how to love the game. And isn’t that the most important thing of all?

It is my belief that one of the most difficult temptations for a coach to resist is the tendency to over-coach or over-instruct his or her players. I think this is a case for a number of reasons, but the main reason is a positive one.

First and foremost, coaches usually have a genuine desire to see their players improve, and they want to do all they can to help them. Most really are passionate about this, so they seek to help their players by offering a great deal of instruction, more work, more talk, more drills, more film, etc. etc. Their motives really are good and their drive ideal, but if kept unchecked, they can easily cross the line into over-coaching.

And if this is true in coaching, it is even more prevalent when the parent is the ‘coach.’ Or at least the primary person trying to pass on a special love of his own. But the funny thing is that over-coaching often (I dare say usually) leads the coach to lessen his effect upon his players and his team. Over-coaching or over-instruction actually seems to hinder the learning process and definitely the ability to pass on the love you have for the game.

This leads us to point #4:

Play first, teach second (or maybe teach 10th).

The reason I put this point like that is because in my experience over-coaching usually goes hand-in-hand with losing the joy of free play. And the simple reality is that the joy of free play seems to be one of the best teachers around.

As it relates to hoops, we all know that most of the best players in the world grew up playing on the playgrounds of our cities. Most of these guys didn’t grow up doing dribbling drills they were taught by a coach. They grew up playing. They started young, hanging around the courts with a ball in their hands and kept playing until they could hang with the big boys. Of course, as the years went on, they began to get more and more instruction. Sadly, many of them got lost in the world of basketball instruction and never reached their full potential (I have known many of these guys). But some were able to put both together in order to really become their best.

But the simple fact is that for most of the best players in the world, play came first. Organized teaching came later. And the main reason the teaching was effective was because the foundational skills necessary to be great at the game were forged by free play.

On the opposite end of things, take US Soccer as an example. I am by no means an expert, but everybody knows the best soccer is played outside the United States. The funny thing is, however, that as far as organization goes, it seems that US Soccer is among the best in the world. My kids can enroll in micro-mini at age 4-5. They get their uniforms and as the years go by, get all sorts of increased, well-ordered (and even licensed) instruction. And yet, the poor kids playing in the dirt in Brazil can run circles around them! Why? Because they have received greater instruction? Come on. It’s because they have spent more time at play.

It’s funny to me really. In Europe the basketball is often more organized and orderly from top to bottom from a very young age. Much more so than in America. And yet, we are by far superior in hoops. And in America, the soccer is more organized and orderly from top to bottom from a very young age. And yet, we will have a very difficult time catching up.

My conviction: The playgrounds are the best training grounds.

And the most important thing about this conviction is that (I think) they are the best not only for training in the game itself (or at least its foundations), but more importantly, in developing a genuine love for and feel for the game. A personal enjoyment of the game. For it’s on the playgrounds that the game becomes your own. Or maybe more importantly, than the genuine enjoyment of the game becomes your own.

Not only that, but it is when you are at play that you can really begin to discover what your personal ‘game’ really is, and how you can develop it or make it better. What is your identity as a player? Where do you best fit on the court? How do you best play? And what do you have to work on to hang with the best? These questions are best answered when you have the freedom to play as you will. Or at least where the players themselves have to manage their own game. Odd as it may sound, the most important lessons are often learned when no coaches are around.

There is more to it than this, of course. That is one of the reasons I have 20 points (at least). But suffice it to say that over-coaching or over-instruction is, in my humble opinion, one of the deadliest of killers. A deadly killer not only of genuine improvement, but sadly, genuine love for the game.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that instruction isn’t needed. Rather, it means that the wise coach is the one who knows just the amount of instruction and structure to give. He is the one who understands that the right amount of structure will foster real freedom and growth, while too much structure will sadly have the opposite effect. Not only to his players’ detriment, but also to his own. In short, the wise coach knows how to get out of the way.

So what’s all this mean for me as a parent, both personally and practically? Well, it means that even though I emphasize the need to practice, I tell my son that the point of practice is to have more fun when you play the game. Because the better you are, the more fun the game can be. Not only that, but it means that I believe that one-on-one (or two-on-two or five-on-five) teaches a young man how to dribble 1000 times better than a bunch of cones and a whistle. It means I would rather have him make a million mistakes (and even form a few bad habits) while playing with his friends than have me over his shoulder telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. It means that I will play with him more than I will instruct him. It means I will do my best to get out of his way, so that he can love the game or not love the game as he pleases. It means I will look for and value neighborhood playgrounds and that I will probably one day tell him to gather up his friends rather than join yet another organized league.

As you can see, it means a lot of things to me. What does it mean to you?

As far as I can tell, if you really love something and want to know it (or be proficient in it) inside and out, you need to make room for both intentional study and instinctive immersion. I think that goes for just about anything. Learning a language. A particular subject. An instrument. And yes, a sport.

Not only that, but I think that if you genuinely love something, you will make room for those two things instinctively. As it relates to basketball in particular, the guys who only play when they are told to play (or practice) usually don’t really love the game. They might get quite good, but we aren’t really worried about that. Our focus is more on passing on the things we love. And when it comes to guys who love the game, they don’t have to be told to practice. They want to practice. Then they want to watch basketball games. And talk hoops. And learn whatever they can. If they love the game, they immerse themselves in the basketball world.

Therefore, it is my belief that if you want to pass on a love for the game in a healthy fashion to your children, you have to make room for both intentional actions and instinctive, joy-filled immersion. And from my vantage point, instinctive immersion is the more important of the two. That’s why point #3 is to…

Surround them with the game.

Again, I think this has application to many other things. But I can only focus on hoops and allow you to make your own application. And the funny thing about this point is that in some respects it shouldn’t even be a point. Or at least, it isn’t something you can do just because you heard you should. It’s just something you will either do or not do, simply because you either love or don’t love the game. For inherent in this point to surround them in the game is the need to do this naturally and joyfully. Not because it makes up some formula for getting your child to love what you love, but just because your love is real.

And yet, it is a point and a vital one. And one we are wise to at least be aware of. If we want to pass on a love for and knowledge of the game, we are wise to surround them with it. And to do so instinctively, naturally, joyfully.

As I think about this point, I realize that I haven’t spent much time explaining particular rules or strategies of basketball to my five-year-old son, but I am sure he knows many of them. In fact, I have seen him play with other kids and teach them the rules of the game. So how did he figure them out? Well, he just did. Little by little, he put the pieces together. I remember him starting out asking the funniest and most random things about the game (he couldn’t understand a charge for the longest time, but just thought it was funny to see someone fall down). But as the past few years have played out. As he has watched more of my games and practices and other games on tv. As he has heard my many conversations about the pick-and-roll or the dynamics of my teams. And as we have played countless games of one-on-one and horse and whatever. Well, he just can’t help but know and enjoy the game of hoops.

And it is my belief that this immersion, this surrounding, is the most powerful way to learn a game or a subject or a skill (especially from a parent). And more importantly, to learn how to love and appreciate it. For when you learn it in this way, you don’t just learn the x’s and o’s of the game. But you get down to its heart, its feel, its real depth of joy and meaning as a game. Sure, I could whip out the basketball textbook and teach him all sorts of things. But I know for sure he would be done in 2 minutes. And the funny thing is, so would I. But sit and watch a game? Or play a game? That’s easy to do for hours.

It’s been my experience that the longer I have played, the more I have appreciated and understood about the game of basketball. I have lived inside this game virtually my entire life and I still have these sort of ‘Ahah!’ moments where something clicks and all the sudden, I really understand, I really own and appreciate, something that I thought I always knew. It might have something to do with a particular method of play or it might have something to do with the team dynamic. But either way, it is something I could never really own any other way except through the process of immersion. Reading it in a book just won’t cut it. It can help a little, no doubt. But in the end, hands on learning cannot be beat.

In my experience through the years, I have come across some coaches who learned the game by the book. They love the game no doubt, but they just couldn’t play the game very long or haven’t spent a great deal of time trying to see things from an experienced player’s perspective. Consequently, there is often a disconnect between them and the players they coach. You can just sense it. The guys on the team just thinking (and sometimes saying), “This guy just doesn’t get it.”

But the thing is, if you ask most of them what they mean by “it”, they won’t be able to tell you. But they have a legitimate point. However well-meaning the coach may be, if he hasn’t taken the time to immerse himself in the game and instead, spent too much time learning by the book, he will miss its heart and soul. And most of his players will know it.

So when it comes to our children, if we have a love that we want to pass on, we need to make room for both intentional learning and instinctive immersion. We need to let our love for the game show and allow the basic moments of life to present us with opportunities to pass on what we know and what we enjoy. We should be intentional to an extent, but in my opinion, we should keep that to a minimum, especially when it comes to a game. We should just watch the game. Let them come to practice. Play a bunch of one-on-one on the mini-hoop…literally just for fun. We should talk about it because we want to, not because we think we should. In large part, we should just let it flow. Because when it flows our naturally, instinctively, the love for it is best passed on to the generation to come.