Back in 2006, Jimmy Connors made the following observation:
You’re either a clay court specialist, a grass court specialist or a hard court specialist… or you’re Roger Federer.[1]
This, of course, was when Roger was in his pomp. Nevertheless, there is little doubt that he is seen as one of the great tennis players, perhaps the greatest thus far…and impressive across all sports.
Six years after Connors’ encomium, Federer was placed #1 in a list of “100 Greatest of All Time”, which came out of a series on the Tennis Channel in the US.[2] He is seen as a sublime embodiment of technique, athleticism and mental attitude; commentators often struggle to spot a weakness in his game, although physical wear and tear is now seen to be an issue as he moves past his prime.
Despite his preeminence over time, his peerless ability, and his extraordinary track record of top flight success, Federer still, of course, has a coach. Indeed, back in 2013, Federer appointed Stefan Edberg to this position. (Edberg was a fine player, for sure, but was never anywhere near Federer’s class.) So, with coaching such a widespread practice in our workplaces these days – and rightly so, in my opinion – what does Roger Federer have to tell us about this practice and its link to performance?
There are many people we know whose workplace performance we might rate or even admire. But, unlike Federer, they may have an area of their practice that could be focused on for improvement. For example, a technically strong manager, delivering comfortably against all expectations, might not show the sort of organisational awareness and sensitivity that would make them fully rounded. Such a person might seek out a coach who could work with them on just this area.
Interestingly, of course, Federer does have a coach. He does this because there is invariably a space in practice where some insight around technique or psychology can be applied to engender improvement, no matter how slight or incremental that might seem to be.
Our first coaching lesson is this: It isn’t about remediation or overseeing the novice; it is all about helping people to achieve their peak performance…and to urge them on to even greater achievement.
I talked a little about insight. This is something vital that a coach brings to the person they are coaching. There is much talk these days about the need for people to be reflective about what they do, especially in the workplace. That’s an internal dialogue, one that I might have with myself in my head. A coach, however, offers the opportunity for a genuine external dialogue, based on what they’ve seen me doing and their opinions as to how I might do it better.
So, while Edberg was never in the same league as Federer – as discussed earlier, who could be? – it is clear that he brings insight into the relationship…and Federer clearly respects his observations and suggestions. He lets Federer – the supreme athlete, perhaps the finest tennis player ever – have a proper conversation about what he does on the court and how he might do it better.
Our second coaching lesson is this: coaching is all about the carefully crafted conversation that offers insight to help us improve.
Gaining the insight needed to improve is one of the key benefits that flow from coaching. So much that goes on in the workplace these days is a fine balance between technical skill (the occupational abilities you need to get stuff done on a daily basis) and mental attitude (how you feel about what you do). In between these two elements is the space where we can get better at what we do, regardless of how brilliantly we currently do it.
One of the best books that I have read on the topic of coaching is Tim Gallwey’s “The Inner Game of Tennis”[3]. He clarifies beautifully, through his concept of the two selves, how mindset is central to improved performance. As Gallwey explains,
As tennis players we tend to think too much before and during our shots; we try too hard to control our movements; and we are too concerned about the results of our actions and how they might reflect on our self-image. In short, we worry too much and don’t concentrate very well.[4]
He suggests that the thinking self can deleteriously interfere with the self that is charged with playing the shots. And we know that the thinking self is very often the predominant voice when we start to do things anew: if you are a driver, contrast the way in which you used to drive as you began to learn with the embedded way in which you engage in the practice these days.
Our third coaching lesson is this: getting your mindset right is as important as acquiring competence in regard to technical skills – and a coach will help you manage the thinking self to create room for better performance.
It is often argued that in our workplaces these days there is the danger of burn out and of rust out: the former means we’ve too much to do in too little time and we feel under resourced in trying to do it; the latter derives from not having enough of interest to do when our talents are crying out for those challenges.
The graph indicates these two extreme states – and the conditions that exist between them, when considering the balance between performance and pressure. But perhaps more important – certainly according to the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi – is the balance between skills and challenge. Where someone faces a significant challenge armed with a high level of skill, we find what Csikszentmihalyi defines as flow, as this diagram illustrates,
Roger Federer finds flow when he is able to deploy his noteworthy talent against an opponent who offers him a properly contested game. And a coach is the person who can develop our abilities and define appropriate challenge.
Our fourth coaching lesson is this: in work, we need to balance performance and pressure for best result, while also seeking out challenge that resonates with our skills…and a coach can guide us to optimal performance and a feeling of “flow” in the workplace.
I am loath to settle for the most obvious example of this, given his interesting domestic life and recent lapse into mediocrity, but Tiger Woods is illustrative in this regard in terms of the profound unlearning to which he is willing to commit. Scott Eden, in a piece written earlier this year about Tiger’s travails, makes the following important observation regarding Woods’s approach to unlearning,
We’re not talking about the endless tweaks and minor revisions that all players, from touring pros to dedicated hacks, are forever visiting upon their swings. We are talking instead about the conscious decision to undergo a structural overhaul, wherein a player transforms the very shape and pattern of his swing via a tedious and labor-intensive process that carries with it all manner of psychic complications.[7]
Certainly, Woods’s efforts in this regard early in his career paid dividends – but only in the long run. Around 1994, Woods the winner opted to unlearn his existing swing in order to build a more technically satisfying one. His form fell off a cliff…only to climb even higher than before. The willingness to do this sort of work – a radical revision of the knowledge and skills required to do what one does in order to do it better in the longer term – reflects both professional commitment and a substantial amount of courage. And it may be that Tiger has gone a bridge too far with his constant root-and-branch un- and relearning.
So, our fifth coaching lesson is this: sometimes we have to unlearn things in order to learn to do things better…and a coach can guide us through this process, which can feel threatening and counterintuitive.
My final observation, in trying to pull all of this together, is that a coach can come in many disguises. Sometimes, they are expressly called a coach, and we are aware of what they offer in that role. At other times, it might be a really good manager who uses coaching techniques to engage and empower us as employees.
For me, though, one thing links them all: they are people who will work with you to help you gain insight to improve, so that you are as close to your peak performance as you can be.
Whether on the tennis court or factory floor, on the golf course or in the office, good quality coaching offers us all the opportunity to think critically about what we do – and how we might do it better.
[1] http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/tennis/5163418.stm
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/100_Greatest_of_All_Time
[3] Check out this YouTube video for an excellent summary of Gallwey’s thinking: www.youtube.com/watch?v=SUdTxXkecr8
[4] W. Timothy Gallwey (1974) The Inner Game of Tennis. Pan Books: London. p114
[5] Taken from Rachel Murray (2005) Managing your stress: A guide for nurses. RCN: London.
[6] Diagram drawn from http://www.gamasutra.com/view/feature/167214/rational_design_the_core_of_.php?print=1. It is based on the diagram reproduced on page 31 of Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (1997) Finding flow. BasicBooks: New York. See also Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (2008) Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. Harper Perennial Modern Classics: New York
[7] http://espn.go.com/golf/story/_/id/8865487/tiger-woods-reinvents-golf-swing-third-career-espn-magazine