I recently watched a professional ice hockey game and heard the commentator say, “He makes it look so easy.”
During the break in play, the commentary pair made comparisons to other sports and athletes, but in doing so, they overlooked something we all know, though few fully appreciate: the reality behind the “easy” performance.
If you’ve watched enough professional soccer games, you’ll hear similar phrases: “They made it look so easy with that movement, but where’s the end product?”
Here’s what we all know… it’s not easy.
It looks easy, but it’s not.
It’s something else.
This got me thinking about a topic I often discuss with players, parents, and clients: the behind-the-scenes effort.
During a recent training session, I demonstrated several technical movements and some agility and fitness exercises to make sure my expectations were understood by the players. I always make it a point to model the work when necessary, reaffirming that I will never ask my players to do something I haven’t done myself, can’t do myself, or won’t do myself.
That’s just my style. Yours may be different, and that’s OK. But here’s the point.
A player, struggling with the work, scoffed and said, “That’s easy for you, you’re the coach.”
I was glad they said this because it created a teachable moment.
I told the player, “It’s easy for me because I’ve worked on these skills, movements, and abilities my entire life… when nobody was watching, and when nobody cared.”
I then added, “I did it not just to play, but also to coach YOU.”
It hit home (thankfully). Their attitude shifted, and it was one of those rare moments when the message was received—both by the person and the player. (It’s crucial to consider both when coaching.)
Here’s a premise I use with players and clients to help them reflect on the journey we’re on:
How much do you really know about someone if you’ve only seen them at their best? Or perhaps, if you’ve only seen them perform?
People often look at someone’s surface and draw a series of conclusions that are both confident and sure.
This is risky—and dangerous.
It’s easy to look at the finished product standing before us and make assumptions that mask valuable information, lessons, and insights that can be applied to our own journeys.
Looking at the personalities, habits, and traits of the greats in any sport is valuable.
But what’s even more valuable is examining athletes from different sports, contexts, and eras—understanding the environments in which they honed their skill set.
For instance, while Cristiano Ronaldo is famous for his obsessive physical and technical training habits, or Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant’s relentless obsession with winning and competing in every aspect of life, the fact remains: we need to understand one crucial principle:
“Championships aren’t won in the theater of the arena. They are won in the thousands of hours of training and the 5 AM runs in the rain when everyone else is sleeping. That’s where it’s won.” – Greg Plitt
The truth is, if you want to understand what made Steven Gerrard or Frank Lampard great—two footballers known for putting in extra sessions on the training pitch, in the gym, and with their coaches—you need to appreciate that what you see on match day is the culmination of thousands of extra repetitions, hundreds of extra hours, and countless hours spent preparing for the performance.
The same applies in any discipline. Musicians rehearse for hours, often until their fingers bleed, backs ache, and bones hurt, for an audience of none.
Writers face more rejection letters than publications, yet keep writing.
Runners train in the dark, pushing through nausea on the track, enduring pain on the trail, all for a single race or event.
Weightlifters follow strict diets, sleep schedules, and workout routines, while others just assume it’s steroids that make them strong.
The artist who sells their work for next to nothing on a street corner, or gives it away for years before finally getting a spot at an expo or securing a contract with an agency.
You get the idea.
Now, let’s bring this closer to home.
Think about the mother and/or father who coaches, volunteers, takes on extra jobs, or has side gigs to buy the right boots for their child. They work longer hours at jobs they’d rather not be in so they can provide, knowing they’ll receive no praise or gratitude for enduring.
I know parents who set out cones and read books I recommend, just so they can feel more connected with their child. They do this for a sense of self-worth, even if their child or spouse doesn’t recognize it.
I believe this is honorable.
The point is, the end product is just the final stage of a pursuit that’s full of struggle, triumph, progress, change, pain, and sacrifice.
Doing the hard thing is often the right thing.





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