While watching the Olympics, a commentator said something I found insightful. It was the fifth set of the Women’s Singles Bronze Medal Table Tennis match and a time out was called. The Japanese athlete had won four points in a row, clawing their way back from a previously enormous deficit. The opposing Korean coach called the time out to halt the Japanese player’s momentum. As the athletes retreated to their corners, the Korean athlete looked visibly shaken, while the Japanese athlete looked fired up.

The Japanese coach spoke rapidly to his athlete, giving serving instructions and where to aim the ball. The athlete listened intently, nodding her head and providing him her own thoughts and strategies.

The Korean coach, on the other hand, said very little. He simply handed his athlete a towel and a water bottle and signalled for her to breathe. They stood there silently facing each other for most of the time out. But by the end, the Korean athlete looked back to her usual self.

The commentator noticed this juxtaposition between the two corners and said:

“The role of a good coach changes from one moment to the next. Sometimes, your job is to fire instructions on tactics, ball placement, or service. Other times, your job is to provide an encouraging word to lift your athlete out of a slump. And occasionally, as we see here, your job is to simply be with your athlete and give them the quiet space they need. It is a highly personal and subtle role that few can do at a high level.”