Five years ago, while studying for an online psychology course, a video autoplayed on YouTube.

I almost skipped it.

Richard Shuttleworth—someone I hadn’t heard of at the time—was speaking at a conference in Singapore. The title was Constraints Based Coaching. I had no idea what that meant.

But something about it caught me.

Back then, I was a traditional tennis coach. Basket drills, technical instruction, error correction, I was doing what I was taught. What everyone did.

And yet… something wasn’t working.

My players looked great in practice but froze in matches. Their movement broke down. Their decisions made no sense under pressure. Learning wasn’t transferring.

So I watched the video. Then I watched it again.

And this week, five years later, with more experience, more reading, and hundreds of experiments behind me, I watched it again.

Here’s what I now see. And why it matters so much more today than it did back then.

1. Constraints Aren’t Restrictions. They’re Invitations.

Shuttleworth starts by admitting he doesn’t like the word “constraints.” It sounds limiting. But the truth is, they aren’t about restricting the athlete—they’re about shaping the learning space.

He described how changing rules, space, equipment, and even player pairings creates different problems for the athlete to solve.

Not drills. Problems.

“Skill is a successful technique under pressure,” he said.

Technique in a vacuum is nothing. A beautifully repeated forehand in a static setting doesn’t mean the player can adapt it mid-match. Constraints help players explore how to adapt. And more importantly, when.

That completely reframed how I see drills. Or, honestly, why I almost never use them now.

2. Feedback Has a Hierarchy, and the Coach Is Last

This one shook me.

In the video, Shuttleworth talks about intrinsic feedback, how something feels, what the player hears, sees, senses. That’s the most valuable form of feedback.

Next comes peer feedback. Then maybe video. Then, then, the coach.

He told a story about elite sailors using flashing goggles to disrupt vision. The best ones loved the challenge. They didn’t wait for cues. They scanned the environment earlier. They had richer information sources.

That’s what we should train: perceptual attunement, not dependency.

As coaches, we often rush to give feedback. But that interrupts learning. What Shuttleworth showed me is that learning is not delivered, it’s discovered.

I’ve stopped explaining everything. Now, I ask.

3. Skill Isn’t Repetition, It’s Variability With Intention

A line that really stuck with me:

“Learning is not repeating execution. It’s repeating the process of finding a solution.”

That broke my brain the first time. Now I get it.

Skill develops when the athlete is pushed just outside their comfort zone. Not so far that they drown. Just enough to feel instability, and learn to adapt.

He calls it the “adaptive zone.” It’s between chaos and repetition. It’s messy. It’s emotional. But it’s where the good stuff lives.

He showed sailing drills where the boats chased a moving marker. Water polo where attackers had to shoot blind. Football where distribution patterns constantly changed.

All of it was about one thing: helping players adapt under changing information. It’s not about the movement. It’s about what drives the movement.

And it’s not just sport. This principle applies to adult coaching, kids, talent development, you name it. If the athlete isn’t solving problems, they’re not learning.

4. Coaches Must Let Go of Control

The idea that athletes should coach each other, design their own games, or control their learning curve was once unthinkable to me.

But I’ve now seen it work.

Shuttleworth talked about sailors asking teammates for feedback, archers challenging each other with creative constraints, and England rugby players being told, “In one year, you’ll coach yourselves.”

The coach becomes the designer, not the deliverer. That distinction changed my identity.

This aligns deeply with what I now call My Adaptable Player Method. Players don’t need perfect form. They need adaptable solutions. That’s how we make them match-ready.

And more than that—it’s how we respect their autonomy.

5. Intention Drives Attention, and Behavior

Possibly the most important line in the video:

“Coaching is guiding intention. Intention drives attention. And attention drives behavior.”

It all flows from there.

If a player’s intention is unclear, they’ll focus on the wrong information. Their actions will follow. And the result? A breakdown in performance that isn’t about effort or ability, it’s about perception.

This is why the ecological dynamics approach resonates so strongly with me. It doesn’t start with form. It starts with the environment, the information available, and the intentions it supports.

That insight rewired my entire approach to movement, decision-making, even how I plan a warm-up.

Revisiting This Video Changed Everything, Again

I’m grateful this video autoplayed that day.

It led me down a path of questioning, experimenting, and eventually letting go of control. What I saw then as a clever training tip, I now recognize as a radical shift in how we define coaching.

I believe more coaches are ready for that shift.

They’re tired of over-explaining. They’re frustrated by the gap between training and match play. They know there has to be a better way.

There is.

And it starts with asking different questions, letting players explore real problems, and seeing yourself not as the source of answers—but the architect of learning.

Want More?

If you’re a tennis coach curious about these ideas, truly curious, I’m hosting The Modern Tennis Coach Conference.

You’ll meet coaches who are doing this work. Who’ve made the shift. Who are redefining what great coaching looks like.

🎾 Join the waitlist and be the first to hear when tickets drop.

Let’s stop shouting instructions. Let’s start designing environments that teach.