I have never enjoyed playing doubles in tennis. For years, I justified this preference by pointing to the greater athletic and physical demands of singles, which felt more aligned with how I liked to compete. It was a neat explanation—and one I accepted without much question—until recently, when I realised it wasn’t the full story.
That insight didn’t come from the tennis court. It emerged while working with a youngster as we attempted to design a training that simply wasn’t working. Our usual approaches struggled. Focus was inconsistent, engagement was low, and progress was limited. It was a difficult and, at times, frustrating process. Initially, it seemed as though the challenge lay with the individual. Over time, however, it became clear that the real issue was not the youngster, but a system that failed to adapt to how he learned. Once we shifted our approach—from repeatedly asking him to focus to intentionally designing ways that helped him focus—the dynamic began to change.
That experience led me to reflect on my long-standing discomfort with doubles tennis. As I thought more deeply about it, a pattern emerged. I was always willing—often eager—to adapt my game when facing opponents with a different style. I enjoyed analysing their strengths, adjusting my approach, and finding ways to respond effectively. Yet when it came to playing with a partner, I struggled to do the same. I found it difficult to adapt my style to complement theirs or to patiently develop a shared strategy. In hindsight, I realised I was far more comfortable adapting in competition than in collaboration.
This observation extends well beyond sport. In teams, learning environments, and organisations, we often expect alignment instead of working towards it. When things don’t flow, it is tempting to attribute the problem to individuals rather than examining whether the system itself allows people to perform at their best. Meaningful progress, however, usually comes not from demanding change, but from designing conditions that make better outcomes more likely.
Recognising this has changed how I approach teamwork and coaching. It has made me more patient, more curious, and more willing to meet people where they are, rather than where I expect them to be. I often remind myself of Eliud Kipchoge’s words, “No human is limited,” especially when working through moments that initially feel like setbacks.
What once appears to be a double fault can, with the right adjustment, become an ace. Often, the breakthrough isn’t about fixing the person—it’s about redesigning the system.
At Flow State Coaching, we work with athletes, professionals, and teams to design systems that adapt to people—not the other way around. If you’re looking to build sustainable performance through better thinking, better environments, and better collaboration, we’d be happy to explore that journey with you.