Reframing your inner dialogue: hard vs. can’t
It’s December at CTA which means the sun starts to set much earlier. My countdown to Dec 21st (the shortest day of the year) starts as soon as daylight savings time does. That’s because my weekday afternoons revolve around orchestrating tennis clinics for kids from 4:30-6:30.
There’s a small window of time just before 5:30 when it gets harder to see. Unfortunately, only five of our eight courts have lights, so we have to consolidate the group. This can potentially disrupt the flow of the workout. And since I tend to be neurotic about efficiency in clinics, the timing and execution of that transition is crucial.
During those few minutes, like clockwork, some kid always says, “Coach Bill when can we turn the lights on?”. They ask this to let me know it’s getting dark – as if I was unaware of this fact. Yesterday one of my long-time students, let’s call him David, missed a shot right before we turned the lights on. He immediately looked at me and said . . . “I CAN’T SEE!” Now mind you I love this kid; I’ve coached him since he was 9 years old (he’s 16 now). David knows that when he misses, which also happens to every other tennis player on the planet, I expect him to figure things out and move on. The other kids were doing fine, and I had a few more things to do to prepare for our transition, so I ignored him. Shortly thereafter, David missed another shot. Knowing better than to look right at me, he said it just a little louder . . . “I CAN’T SEE!!” Again, I ignored him and went about my business. Just a few minutes passed before I heard it a third time . . . “I CAN’T SEE!!!”
At this point David had broken me down. It’s the same game kids and parents have played since time began. I walked up to him and said, “look me in the eyes” - this being a tactic I sometimes use dealing with headstrong teenagers signaling they need to listen carefully. I told him that indeed I was aware it was getting dark. However, there were a few things I needed to take care of before we turned on the lights. I also mentioned that this discussion was taking away from his practice and my ability to run it. Thankfully David accepted this, albeit reluctantly. Within 5 minutes the lights were on, and there was one less excuse he could use after missing a shot.
I woke up the next morning laughing to myself, this is the kind of stuff I do for a living. But it also made me think about how often hard becomes synonymous with can’t on the tennis court (I can’t hit a backhand today, I can’t beat that player, and so on). Yes, it was getting harder to see that night but can’t was a big stretch. David was looking for something to blame, other than himself, for missing those shots. But he simply needed to; focus on what he could control, do the best he could, and realize that hard didn’t equate to can’t.
I realized, however, that quite often I think just like David in my own life. I too hear the voice that whispers I can’t do something simply because it’s turning out to be hard. It can be easy to be hypocritical as a coach. To look at the speck in my students’ eye without seeing the plank in my own. That brief interaction was a reminder to have the same attitude toward my own challenges that I encouraged David to apply on the tennis court. Hopefully someday he’ll see that connection as well. So, the next time David says he can’t see when it starts to get dark, he’ll still have to work things out until I’m good and ready to turn those lights on. Sorry buddy.