u/ProBallAustralia

I’ve coached basketball for a while now, and something still surprises me. Parents spend thousands on team fees, private skills sessions, shooting coaches and extra games. But almost nobody ever asks, “Who’s teaching my kid how to actually run?”

We assume kids naturally learn to sprint, decelerate, change direction and land safely. Most don’t. They just get older and stronger while repeating the same movement patterns.

I’ve seen kids who suddenly looked “more athletic” after a few weeks of working on sprint mechanics and deceleration. Not because they got fitter. Not because they lifted weights. They just started moving differently.

It makes me wonder if youth sports have this backwards. We spend years teaching sport-specific skills. Very little time teaching the movement those skills are built on.

I'm wondering what other coaches have seen...

Is movement quality something that’s overlooked, or am I paying attention to the wrong thing?

I’ve coached basketball for a while now, and something still surprises me. Parents spend thousands on team fees, private skills sessions, shooting coaches and extra games. But almost nobody ever asks, “Who’s teaching my kid how to actually run?”

We assume kids naturally learn to sprint, decelerate, change direction and land safely. Most don’t. They just get older and stronger while repeating the same movement patterns.

I’ve seen kids who suddenly looked “more athletic” after a few weeks of working on sprint mechanics and deceleration. Not because they got fitter. Not because they lifted weights. They just started moving differently.

It makes me wonder if youth sports have this backwards. We spend years teaching sport-specific skills. Very little time teaching the movement those skills are built on.

I'm wondering what other coaches have seen...

Is movement quality something that’s overlooked, or am I paying attention to the wrong thing?

I’ve coached basketball for a while now, and something still surprises me. Parents spend thousands on team fees, private skills sessions, shooting coaches and extra games. But almost nobody ever asks, “Who’s teaching my kid how to actually run?”

We assume kids naturally learn to sprint, decelerate, change direction and land safely. Most don’t. They just get older and stronger while repeating the same movement patterns.

I’ve seen kids who suddenly looked “more athletic” after a few weeks of working on sprint mechanics and deceleration. Not because they got fitter. Not because they lifted weights. They just started moving differently.

It makes me wonder if youth sports have this backwards. We spend years teaching sport-specific skills. Very little time teaching the movement those skills are built on.

I'm wondering what other coaches have seen...

Is movement quality something that’s overlooked, or am I paying attention to the wrong thing?

Every year around representative trial season, I hear parents talking about shooting percentages, handles and athleticism. Those things obviously matter. But after coaching for years, I think a lot of people miss what coaches actually remember.

It’s usually not the highlight play. It’s the habits. The kid who sprints between every drill. The player who talks on defence without being asked. The athlete who gets scored on, nods, and gets straight into the next possession instead of looking frustrated. The player who applies coaching feedback the very next rep. Those are the things that make coaches think: “I’d love to coach this kid for the next 12 months.”

I’ve seen players make representative teams without being the most talented because they were incredibly coachable. I’ve also seen talented players miss out because their body language, effort or attitude raised too many questions.

Curious if other coaches have seen the same thing.

What’s one “small” habit that immediately makes a player stand out to you during a representative trial?

I’ve spent a lot of time around youth basketball over the years, and there’s one pattern I keep seeing that seems to go against what most people believe...

The athletes who earn the most opportunities aren’t always the most talented. They’re not always the highest scorers, the fastest players, or the kids everyone is talking about after the game. If you watched a random practice, you might not even pick them out as the best athlete in the gym. What they usually are is trusted.

When parents and players talk about development, the conversation almost always revolves around skill. How can I shoot better? How can I handle the ball better? How can I score more points? Those things obviously matter, and talent absolutely matters too.

But coaches seem to be evaluating something else at the same time. They’re paying attention to whether they can rely on you.

Can they trust your effort when the team is losing? Can they trust your body language after a mistake? Can they trust you to respond well to coaching when you’re frustrated? Can they trust that the same version of you is going to show up tomorrow?

I’ve seen plenty of talented athletes struggle because coaches never knew what they were going to get. One day they’d be fully engaged and competing hard. The next day they’d be distracted, frustrated, or checked out. The talent was obvious, but the reliability wasn’t.

On the other hand, I’ve seen athletes with less natural ability earn bigger roles because coaches knew exactly what they were getting every single day. They listened. They competed. They stayed coachable. They responded well to setbacks. They became the type of player a coach felt comfortable relying on when things got difficult.

The more I think about it, the more it feels like this extends far beyond sport. Most opportunities in life don’t seem to go to the most talented people. They often go to the people others trust. The people who follow through. The people who remain dependable under pressure. The people who consistently do what they say they’re going to do.

Talent gets attention because it’s visible. Trust is harder to notice. It gets built through hundreds of small moments that nobody remembers individually but that add up over time.

Maybe that’s why some people seem to keep getting opportunities while others with equal or even greater talent keep wondering what they’re missing.

Curious whether coaches, parents, former athletes, teachers, managers, or anyone who’s led a team has seen the same thing.

In your experience, does trust eventually become more valuable than talent when it comes to earning opportunities?

I’ve spent a lot of time around youth basketball over the years, and there’s one pattern I keep seeing that seems to go against what most people believe...

The athletes who earn the most opportunities aren’t always the most talented. They’re not always the highest scorers, the fastest players, or the kids everyone is talking about after the game. If you watched a random practice, you might not even pick them out as the best athlete in the gym. What they usually are is trusted.

When parents and players talk about development, the conversation almost always revolves around skill. How can I shoot better? How can I handle the ball better? How can I score more points? Those things obviously matter, and talent absolutely matters too.

But coaches seem to be evaluating something else at the same time. They’re paying attention to whether they can rely on you.

Can they trust your effort when the team is losing? Can they trust your body language after a mistake? Can they trust you to respond well to coaching when you’re frustrated? Can they trust that the same version of you is going to show up tomorrow?

I’ve seen plenty of talented athletes struggle because coaches never knew what they were going to get. One day they’d be fully engaged and competing hard. The next day they’d be distracted, frustrated, or checked out. The talent was obvious, but the reliability wasn’t.

On the other hand, I’ve seen athletes with less natural ability earn bigger roles because coaches knew exactly what they were getting every single day. They listened. They competed. They stayed coachable. They responded well to setbacks. They became the type of player a coach felt comfortable relying on when things got difficult.

The more I think about it, the more it feels like this extends far beyond sport. Most opportunities in life don’t seem to go to the most talented people. They often go to the people others trust. The people who follow through. The people who remain dependable under pressure. The people who consistently do what they say they’re going to do.

Talent gets attention because it’s visible. Trust is harder to notice. It gets built through hundreds of small moments that nobody remembers individually but that add up over time.

Maybe that’s why some people seem to keep getting opportunities while others with equal or even greater talent keep wondering what they’re missing.

Curious whether coaches, parents, former athletes, teachers, managers, or anyone who’s led a team has seen the same thing.

In your experience, does trust eventually become more valuable than talent when it comes to earning opportunities?

I’ve been coaching kids for a number of years now, and there’s one thing I’ve noticed that I can’t stop thinking about. The kids who stay involved in sport the longest often aren’t the most talented.

They’re not always the fastest. They’re not always the ones dominating games at 10 years old. And they’re definitely not always the kids everyone predicts will “make it.”

What they often have, though, is the right environment around them. Parents who don’t turn every car ride home into a performance review. Adults who allow them to struggle without making them feel like they’ve failed. Families who celebrate effort, persistence, and growth just as much as outcomes.

That doesn’t mean those parents have it all figured out. None of us do. Parenting is hard. Coaching is hard. Supporting young people through disappointment is hard. But over the years, I’ve started noticing a difference between the kids who keep showing up and the ones who quietly drift away from sport.

In one environment, mistakes are treated as part of learning. Kids miss the game-winning shot, have a rough weekend, get less playing time than they’d hoped, and still come back the next week excited to improve.

In another environment, mistakes start to carry more weight than they should. Kids begin worrying about letting people down. They become afraid of taking risks. The joy that once brought them to the court slowly starts to disappear.

I’m not saying parents are the only factor. Friendships matter. Coaches matter. A child’s personality matters. But I do think the environment surrounding a young athlete shapes far more than we realise.

I’m genuinely curious what other people have experienced. If you played sport growing up, what made you stick with it? And if you walked away, what pushed you out?

If you’re a parent now, what’s something you’re intentionally trying to do differently? Or maybe something your own parents did that you’re grateful for and want to pass on?

I’d love to hear your perspective. I have a feeling these conversations matter more than we give them credit for.

I’ve been coaching kids for a number of years now, and there’s one thing I’ve noticed that I can’t stop thinking about. The kids who stay involved in sport the longest often aren’t the most talented.

They’re not always the fastest. They’re not always the ones dominating games at 10 years old. And they’re definitely not always the kids everyone predicts will “make it.”

What they often have, though, is the right environment around them. Parents who don’t turn every car ride home into a performance review. Adults who allow them to struggle without making them feel like they’ve failed. Families who celebrate effort, persistence, and growth just as much as outcomes.

That doesn’t mean those parents have it all figured out. None of us do. Parenting is hard. Coaching is hard. Supporting young people through disappointment is hard. But over the years, I’ve started noticing a difference between the kids who keep showing up and the ones who quietly drift away from sport.

In one environment, mistakes are treated as part of learning. Kids miss the game-winning shot, have a rough weekend, get less playing time than they’d hoped, and still come back the next week excited to improve.

In another environment, mistakes start to carry more weight than they should. Kids begin worrying about letting people down. They become afraid of taking risks. The joy that once brought them to the court slowly starts to disappear.

I’m not saying parents are the only factor. Friendships matter. Coaches matter. A child’s personality matters. But I do think the environment surrounding a young athlete shapes far more than we realise.

I’m genuinely curious what other people have experienced. If you played sport growing up, what made you stick with it? And if you walked away, what pushed you out?

If you’re a parent now, what’s something you’re intentionally trying to do differently? Or maybe something your own parents did that you’re grateful for and want to pass on?

I’d love to hear your perspective. I have a feeling these conversations matter more than we give them credit for.

I’ve been coaching kids for a number of years now, and there’s one thing I’ve noticed that I can’t stop thinking about. The kids who stay involved in sport the longest often aren’t the most talented.

They’re not always the fastest. They’re not always the ones dominating games at 10 years old. And they’re definitely not always the kids everyone predicts will “make it.”

What they often have, though, is the right environment around them. Parents who don’t turn every car ride home into a performance review. Adults who allow them to struggle without making them feel like they’ve failed. Families who celebrate effort, persistence, and growth just as much as outcomes.

That doesn’t mean those parents have it all figured out. None of us do. Parenting is hard. Coaching is hard. Supporting young people through disappointment is hard. But over the years, I’ve started noticing a difference between the kids who keep showing up and the ones who quietly drift away from sport.

In one environment, mistakes are treated as part of learning. Kids miss the game-winning shot, have a rough weekend, get less playing time than they’d hoped, and still come back the next week excited to improve.

In another environment, mistakes start to carry more weight than they should. Kids begin worrying about letting people down. They become afraid of taking risks. The joy that once brought them to the court slowly starts to disappear.

I’m not saying parents are the only factor. Friendships matter. Coaches matter. A child’s personality matters. But I do think the environment surrounding a young athlete shapes far more than we realise.

I’m genuinely curious what other people have experienced. If you played sport growing up, what made you stick with it? And if you walked away, what pushed you out?

If you’re a parent now, what’s something you’re intentionally trying to do differently? Or maybe something your own parents did that you’re grateful for and want to pass on?

I’d love to hear your perspective. I have a feeling these conversations matter more than we give them credit for.

I was thinking about this after a game recently. A lot of kids get in the car after sport and immediately get a post-game review. What happened. What they should've done. What they need to improve. And honestly, I understand why...

Most parents care. A lot. They're investing time, money, weekends and energy into their child's sport. They want to help.

But it made me wonder: What's actually the best thing to say after a game? Because when I think back to being a kid, I don't remember technical advice from the car ride home. I remember how I felt. Whether I was nervous. Excited. Embarrassed. Proud. Disappointed.

And I wonder if adults sometimes underestimate how much processing kids are already doing themselves. By the time they get to the car, they've often replayed every mistake already. Every missed shot. Every turnover. Every awkward moment.

So maybe what they need isn't more analysis. Maybe they need something else first.

Curious what parents, coaches and former athletes think...

What's the best thing a parent can say after a game? And what's the worst?

I was thinking about this after a game recently. A lot of kids get in the car after sport and immediately get a post-game review. What happened. What they should've done. What they need to improve. And honestly, I understand why...

Most parents care. A lot. They're investing time, money, weekends and energy into their child's sport. They want to help.

But it made me wonder: What's actually the best thing to say after a game? Because when I think back to being a kid, I don't remember technical advice from the car ride home. I remember how I felt. Whether I was nervous. Excited. Embarrassed. Proud. Disappointed.

And I wonder if adults sometimes underestimate how much processing kids are already doing themselves. By the time they get to the car, they've often replayed every mistake already. Every missed shot. Every turnover. Every awkward moment.

So maybe what they need isn't more analysis. Maybe they need something else first.

Curious what parents, coaches and former athletes think...

What's the best thing a parent can say after a game? And what's the worst?

I was thinking about this after a game recently. A lot of kids get in the car after sport and immediately get a post-game review. What happened. What they should've done. What they need to improve. And honestly, I understand why...

Most parents care. A lot. They're investing time, money, weekends and energy into their child's sport. They want to help.

But it made me wonder: What's actually the best thing to say after a game? Because when I think back to being a kid, I don't remember technical advice from the car ride home. I remember how I felt. Whether I was nervous. Excited. Embarrassed. Proud. Disappointed.

And I wonder if adults sometimes underestimate how much processing kids are already doing themselves. By the time they get to the car, they've often replayed every mistake already. Every missed shot. Every turnover. Every awkward moment.

So maybe what they need isn't more analysis. Maybe they need something else first.

Curious what parents, coaches and former athletes think...

What's the best thing a parent can say after a game? And what's the worst?

I was thinking about this after a game recently. A lot of kids get in the car after sport and immediately get a post-game review. What happened. What they should've done. What they need to improve. And honestly, I understand why...

Most parents care. A lot. They're investing time, money, weekends and energy into their child's sport. They want to help.

But it made me wonder: What's actually the best thing to say after a game? Because when I think back to being a kid, I don't remember technical advice from the car ride home. I remember how I felt. Whether I was nervous. Excited. Embarrassed. Proud. Disappointed.

And I wonder if adults sometimes underestimate how much processing kids are already doing themselves. By the time they get to the car, they've often replayed every mistake already. Every missed shot. Every turnover. Every awkward moment.

So maybe what they need isn't more analysis. Maybe they need something else first.

Curious what parents, coaches and former athletes think...

What's the best thing a parent can say after a game? And what's the worst?

I think we massively overrate talent and underrate consistency. Matthew Dellavedova's career is one of the reasons I think this. Every NBA team passed on him in the draft. All 30.

Nobody thought he was an NBA player. Yet he ended up winning an NBA Championship. And I don't think that's the interesting part. The interesting part is how people explain stories like his.

The majority of people hear a story like that and think: "He proved everyone wrong." "He had a chip on his shoulder." "He wanted it more." Maybe. But I think the explanation is much simpler.

He just stayed in the process longer than most people do. That's the thing I keep noticing in sports. Parents, coaches and players spend a lot of time looking for breakthroughs. A better trainer. A better team. A better opportunity. A growth spurt. More playing time. Some big moment where everything suddenly changes.

Meanwhile the athletes who actually improve the most usually look pretty boring. They keep showing up. Keep training. Keep making mistakes. Keep getting slightly better. Then one day everyone acts surprised by the result.

I coach kids and I see this all the time. The player who looks average at 11 years old is often completely different by 15. Not because they suddenly became talented. Because they accumulated thousands more reps than everyone else.

I honestly think youth sports creates a weird illusion. We see the outcome and assume it was talent. We don't see the hundreds of ordinary days beforehand. Maybe that's why so many kids get frustrated. Progress is usually invisible while it's happening.

Curious what other coaches, parents or athletes think. Have you seen examples where consistency completely beat talent over the long run?

https://preview.redd.it/d449cvozfl4h1.jpg?width=1122&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=7ceaf74564da9b5db0cd3fb345e0b72f942b55cb

I think we massively overrate talent and underrate consistency. Matthew Dellavedova's career is one of the reasons I think this. Every NBA team passed on him in the draft. All 30.

Nobody thought he was an NBA player. Yet he ended up winning an NBA Championship. And I don't think that's the interesting part. The interesting part is how people explain stories like his.

The majority of people hear a story like that and think: "He proved everyone wrong." "He had a chip on his shoulder." "He wanted it more." Maybe. But I think the explanation is much simpler.

He just stayed in the process longer than most people do. That's the thing I keep noticing in sports. Parents, coaches and players spend a lot of time looking for breakthroughs. A better trainer. A better team. A better opportunity. A growth spurt. More playing time. Some big moment where everything suddenly changes.

Meanwhile the athletes who actually improve the most usually look pretty boring. They keep showing up. Keep training. Keep making mistakes. Keep getting slightly better. Then one day everyone acts surprised by the result.

I coach kids and I see this all the time. The player who looks average at 11 years old is often completely different by 15. Not because they suddenly became talented. Because they accumulated thousands more reps than everyone else.

I honestly think youth sports creates a weird illusion. We see the outcome and assume it was talent. We don't see the hundreds of ordinary days beforehand. Maybe that's why so many kids get frustrated. Progress is usually invisible while it's happening.

Curious what other coaches, parents or athletes think. Have you seen examples where consistency completely beat talent over the long run?

I think a lot of kids stop enjoying sports long before parents realise. Not because they suddenly hate basketball. And not because they're lazy or distracted.

Honestly I think a lot of the time confidence just slowly changes first. You start seeing little things. Kids stop calling for the ball. Stop shooting as much. Look at the coach after every mistake. Start playing safe.

Parents usually notice the performance part first: "They're playing differently." "They don't look confident." "They seem less aggressive."

But I don't think most adults realise how much pressure kids quietly carry during sports. And the pressure usually isn't coming from one giant moment. It's small stuff. Car ride comments. Sideline reactions.

Parents meaning well but accidentally making mistakes feel heavier. Stuff like: "Don't mess up today." "You need to play harder." "You HAVE to be aggressive."

I don't even think parents are doing anything wrong honestly.

Most pressure comes from caring too much, not caring too little. But I've noticed kids play very differently depending on how emotionally safe they feel.

Same kid. Same skill level. Different environment.

Some environments make kids terrified of mistakes. Other environments make kids feel free enough to actually compete. And weirdly enough... the second group usually improves faster too.

I don't know. Maybe this is more of a youth sports thing generally, not just basketball.

Curious if other parents/coaches have noticed this too.

I think a lot of kids stop enjoying sports long before parents realise. Not because they suddenly hate basketball. And not because they're lazy or distracted.

Honestly I think a lot of the time confidence just slowly changes first. You start seeing little things. Kids stop calling for the ball. Stop shooting as much. Look at the coach after every mistake. Start playing safe.

Parents usually notice the performance part first: "They're playing differently." "They don't look confident." "They seem less aggressive."

But I don't think most adults realise how much pressure kids quietly carry during sports. And the pressure usually isn't coming from one giant moment. It's small stuff. Car ride comments. Sideline reactions.

Parents meaning well but accidentally making mistakes feel heavier. Stuff like: "Don't mess up today." "You need to play harder." "You HAVE to be aggressive."

I don't even think parents are doing anything wrong honestly.

Most pressure comes from caring too much, not caring too little. But I've noticed kids play very differently depending on how emotionally safe they feel.

Same kid. Same skill level. Different environment.

Some environments make kids terrified of mistakes. Other environments make kids feel free enough to actually compete. And weirdly enough... the second group usually improves faster too.

I don't know. Maybe this is more of a youth sports thing generally, not just basketball.

Curious if other parents/coaches have noticed this too.

I think a lot of kids stop enjoying sports long before parents realise. Not because they suddenly hate basketball. And not because they're lazy or distracted.

Honestly I think a lot of the time confidence just slowly changes first. You start seeing little things. Kids stop calling for the ball. Stop shooting as much. Look at the coach after every mistake. Start playing safe.

Parents usually notice the performance part first: "They're playing differently." "They don't look confident." "They seem less aggressive."

But I don't think most adults realise how much pressure kids quietly carry during sports. And the pressure usually isn't coming from one giant moment. It's small stuff. Car ride comments. Sideline reactions.

Parents meaning well but accidentally making mistakes feel heavier. Stuff like: "Don't mess up today." "You need to play harder." "You HAVE to be aggressive."

I don't even think parents are doing anything wrong honestly.

Most pressure comes from caring too much, not caring too little. But I've noticed kids play very differently depending on how emotionally safe they feel.

Same kid. Same skill level. Different environment.

Some environments make kids terrified of mistakes. Other environments make kids feel free enough to actually compete. And weirdly enough... the second group usually improves faster too.

I don't know. Maybe this is more of a youth sports thing generally, not just basketball.

Curious if other parents/coaches have noticed this too.

Maybe this is unpopular but I think parents massively overthink the “going pro” thing.

Not saying goals are bad.

Dream big.

Go for it.

But I coach youth basketball and honestly some of the coolest changes I see have nothing to do with basketball.

Kids who walked in nervous eventually become loud.

Kids who hated mistakes start taking risks.

Kids who barely spoke suddenly start leading huddles.

And parents usually notice the basketball first.

But from the outside, it sometimes feels like the bigger win is confidence.

Genuinely curious: if you played sport growing up, what stayed with you years later?

The trophies? Or something else?

Something I keep noticing coaching young athletes: Week 1 and Week 8 can honestly look like two completely different kids.

Week 1: Quiet. Nervous. Holding the ball too long. Scared to make mistakes. Looking around before every decision. Not calling for passes. Second-guessing everything.

Then a few weeks later: Talking. Smiling. Calling for the ball. Competing. Playing freely.

And what’s interesting is… their actual skill level often didn’t dramatically change. Sure, they improved. But not enough to explain the complete personality shift.

So I started wondering if confidence gets misunderstood. I think adults assume confidence creates performance. But watching kids has made me think it might work backwards.

Because early on, everything feels huge. New teammates. New drills. New coaches. New pressure. New expectations. Even simple things can feel overwhelming when they’re unfamiliar. And kids seem to internalize all of it.

Every missed shot feels massive. Every turnover feels personal. Every mistake feels like proof: “Maybe I’m not good.” “Maybe everyone notices.” “Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

But then reps happen. Again. Again. Again. And eventually the game starts slowing down.

Not because pressure disappeared. Not because they suddenly became talented. Because unfamiliar things became familiar.

That’s when confidence starts showing up. Not confidence from hype. Confidence from evidence.

“I’ve done this drill before.”

“I’ve survived bad games before.”

“I’ve made mistakes before.”

“I know this feeling.”

Honestly, I think a lot of kids quit right before this stage. Right before things start feeling normal. Curious if coaches or parents notice this too:

Do kids become confident because they improve? Or do they improve because they simply stay around long enough for things to stop feeling scary?