“To succeed in life, you need two things: ignorance and confidence.”
— Mark Twain

As coaches, we’re often trained to prize knowledge and caution. We fear ignorance because it implies weakness or incompetence. We temper confidence because it’s so often mistaken for arrogance. But what if both ignorance and confidence—when properly harnessed—are exactly what we need to move forward?

When I first began writing this reflection years ago, it stemmed from a moment of clarity during a difficult time. Like many, I found myself drifting. Career shifts, life changes, and unmet expectations had dulled my sense of direction. Goal-setting became a box-checking exercise, not a meaningful pursuit.

I was training for my 15th marathon, bouncing from one plan to another, hoping structure would solve my deeper restlessness. I had published my first book, It’s Just a Ball, and found myself creatively stalled—unsure how to continue writing, about soccer or anything else. I thought I had a writing problem. But in truth, I had a perfection problem. And that’s a trap many coaches fall into.

We obsess over designing the perfect session, the ideal season plan, the flawless message for our teams. But perfection is a mirage. Coaching, like writing, is an iterative process. It invites us to constantly revise, reflect, and repeat. The pursuit is never complete—and that’s the point. It’s where growth lives.

In It’s Just a Ball, I describe this trap as “dry swimming”—the act of preparing endlessly without ever diving in. Buying the gear, studying the techniques, analyzing endlessly—but never actually doing the thing. Sound familiar?

That “thinking” can feel productive, but it’s often just elegant procrastination. It’s not overthinking—it’s stagnation disguised as strategy. Coaches are especially susceptible to this. We replay old games, project outcomes, plan for every contingency. But the field doesn’t wait for a perfect plan. And neither does life.

Not long ago, I found myself staring out at the cornfield behind my house. It was autumn—the season of fading light and cooling air. A time when nature prepares to rest. And somehow, that stillness sparked motion in me. Maybe it was the memories of late-season matches, or the clarity that only comes with a sharp breeze and fallen leaves.

Later that day, while “doomsurfing” TV channels—our analog version of doomscrolling—I landed on the original Point Break. (Yes, the original. There is only one Point Break.) In one scene, Bodhi, the rebel-surfer anti-hero, says to Johnny Utah:

“Fear causes hesitation. And hesitation causes your worst fears to come true.”

That hit me. Hard. I realized I wasn’t afraid of any one thing—I was afraid of moving. Afraid of the unknown. And that fear had caused me to freeze in place. That’s when I recognized I was caught in a mental Bermuda Triangle: ruminating on the past, predicting the future, and ignoring the present.

And that’s where the real shift began. I stopped searching for symbolic meaning or waiting for perfect timing. Instead, I returned to the only moment that matters: right now.

“Be here now,” as the spiritual guru, Ram Dass once wrote. It’s as true for a coach standing on the sideline as it is for a yogi on a mat. (And yes, it’s also the title of an Oasis album—but let’s not confuse pop culture with philosophy.)

Charles Bukowski, the gritty underground poet and novelist known for his visceral writing, once said, “The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.”

It’s crude, but there’s wisdom in it. Those who question everything often end up doing nothing. Meanwhile, those who act with ignorance can sometimes stumble into progress simply because they move.

As coaches, we don’t need to be ignorant. But we do need to stop letting our knowledge paralyze us. And we do need confidence—especially the kind that comes from accepting failure as part of the process.

So here’s the crux of the message:
Stop waiting for clarity. Stop preparing to act. Let go of the illusion of control. Let go of hesitation. Write the practice plan. Make the substitution. Have the hard conversation. And most of all—coach from the present moment.

Because in this work, just like in life, the best progress begins where perfection ends.