The Athlete I Almost Wrote Off

I just finished a week of girls' basketball camp, and it brought me back to a conversation I had with a parent a while ago.

This parent apologized to me for the way their daughter learns. Let’s call her Mary. They told me they know Mary gets distracted easily, that she can be "a lot to handle" in a group, and they attributed these behaviors to her learning differences.

This conversation happened about a month after I'd started working with Mary. By then, I'd already made a few observations. For instance, when I explained a drill to the group, she'd be off to the side talking to someone, flipping the ball up and down, or just constantly moving.

Honestly? When I first noticed these behaviors, I was annoyed.

I knew it would be easier for me if Mary didn't participate, or if I disciplined her and moved her off to the side. I could have made an example of her. You know, one of those long talks about expectations, talking at her about how she needed to behave if she wanted to keep coming to workouts. I could’ve gotten away with any of these responses. Some parents may have even praised the message I was sending.

Thinking back on how I used to handle situations like this, I cringe.

I think about a time when I'd make athletes run laps for not listening. Or worse, if I had to repeat myself, I'd get visibly frustrated and write that athlete off in my head as "difficult," or "not worth the effort." I wonder now: if I'd been truly curious back then, what adjustments could I have made? How many athletes did I unknowingly write off because I assumed the problem was them, and not the environment I'd built?

Luckily, by the time I was working with this athlete, I had a different perspective. I had patience with her. And, just as important, I had patience with myself.

Why this matters

Here's a number that stops me every time: in school alone, a child with ADHD can receive 20,000 corrective or negative comments by the time they're ten years old.¹

Twenty thousand. Before they even hit double digits.

As coaches, we're often just one more adult adding to that tally. And we have a choice. We can be another voice pointing out what they're doing wrong, OR we can be the place where they don't have to mask or hide their struggles.

My response to Mary and the group

I stopped trying to fix Mary and started adjusting the environment. Not just for her, but for the whole group. I later found out another girl in that group had sensory processing difficulties, which only reinforced what I was already seeing: these adjustments help far more athletes than the one you make them for. Also, in my experience, elementary school girls have a lot of energy and tend to get distracted.

Here's what I tried.

How I gave instructions:

• I made my directions simpler and more concise. One step at a time.
• I never talked longer than 15–20 seconds without asking a question to pull the group back in.
• Questions along the lines of: what they’d do first, what the objective was, and what they were focusing on. Not all at once, but throughout the explanation.
• Had the group repeat the directions back to me.
• “What do we do first?” “Then what?” “How does the offense score?” “What is the defense trying to do?”

What I changed in the setup:

• Instructed everyone to put the ball between their feet while I was talking, so there was nothing to fidget with.
• Stood closer to certain athletes while giving instructions.
• Simplified drills so there wasn't too much information to hold in their heads at once.
• When introducing more complex drills, each would build on the previous one. They would be similar in setup, flow, and intention.
• Used her as the demonstrator, which gave her a positive role in front of the group.

And when I noticed the energy getting away from us, I'd send them on a few sprints down and back before we started or between drills. Some of the girls complained, but conditioning matters for game performance anyway, and the reset worked wonders. After those sprints, they could lock back in for the next set of instructions. It wasn't framed as a punishment, and I did not time them. It was a reset button. You can also play with this one... maybe have them partner up and race, wheelbarrow-style, sideline to sideline, or have them run like certain animals. It sounds silly, but even the older athletes get into it!

Shockingly to me, no athletes complained about me repeating instructions. They didn't interpret it as me being "extra." They just listened, stayed engaged, asked questions, and completed the drills.

And the best part? I didn't need a report card to know it was working. Mary’s parents told me she genuinely looked forward to coming to my workouts. She felt successful there. That meant more to me than anything else, because ultimately, when an athlete knows they’re in a supportive environment, they feel freer to try new skills and push themselves out of their comfort zone.

The power of the relationship

All of those adjustments matter. But what matters more is your relationship with the athlete.

In my experience, when an athlete knows you actually care about them, they stop hiding or masking to earn your approval. They become a partner in the process. They'll tell you when they don't understand, or when they're struggling, because they trust you won't punish them for it.

And those relationships don't get built in big speeches or discipline. They're built in the small moments. A high-five. Celebrating any time you see an athlete doing something positive. Saying hello when they walk into the gym. Asking about their life. Getting to know what they enjoy outside of the playing field or court.

Should we have conversations with parents upfront?

You might be wondering: after all this, do I now ask parents about their kids' learning style on day one?

You may have a different method, but I don't.

If there's something significant, like a diagnosis, parents usually share it on their own. But going in without preconceived notions lets me make my own read in real time. It keeps me observant. It forces me to stay creative in the moment and adjust to what I'm actually seeing, instead of what I expect to see because of a label.

This experience taught me a lot. Mainly, I just need to stay curious, pay attention, and be willing to adjust.

The parent apologized for their daughter. But looking back, no apology was needed. She just needed a coach willing to adapt, listen, and see her for who she actually was, not who she was "supposed" to be.

Reflection

Think about the last time you got annoyed at an athlete for not paying attention in the way you wanted them to, or as soon as you broke to start the drill, they asked: “What are we supposed to do?”

Take 5 - 10 minutes and answer the following questions:

1) What about the setup or explanation might have made it harder for that athlete to follow you?

2) What could that behavior have been telling you they needed?

3) What’s one thing you’re willing to try differently next time?

Let me know what you came up with. I'd love to hear about it!

Reference

1. Jellinek, Michael S. "Don't Let ADHD Crush Children's Self-Esteem." Clinical Psychiatry News, May 2010, p. 12.