2 | competition is a live performance

In the past, we thought of learning to move like the process of recording something via audio or video. The movement was “recorded,” stored in the brain, and then retrieved to be “played” as needed. We could adjust that recording in superficial ways akin to volume or speed or specific outputs, but it was fundamentally the same track and would play in the same relative way every time (e.g., no matter how much I sped it up, the hook would still be 25% of the total recording; no matter how loud I cranked the volume, the guitars would still be 1.5x the level of the snare). Keeping with the analogy, the simplest version of performing was like hitting play on a Spotify track. Even at its most creative, we were just figurative DJs working within the limitations of pre-recorded movement media. Although this explanation was easy to grasp, it appears to be incomplete. Music is not played as much as repeatedly (re)created. And movement within sport is no different.

Consider the following:

[S]uccessful skill acquisition results in the emergence of behavior that is adaptable to a range of varying performance contexts. Adaptive behavior is an important characteristic of skill because constraints like the environment, task requirements, and an individual’s intentions and motivations can alter every time an action is performed (Davids, Bennett, and Newell, 2006). Adaptive skilled behavior, rather than being imposed by pre-existing structure, emerges from this confluence of constraints under the boundary conditions of a particular task or activity context (Araújo et al, 2004; Davids et al. 2008). A major challenge for psychologists interested in the acquisition of skill is to understand how each individual learns to adapt their movement behaviors in complex and challenging environments to consistently achieve a particular task outcome. (Araújo & Davids, 2011, p.15)

If we accept a more complex view of how movement is created, we also accept that there is no such thing as true repetition; every single movement is unique. Yes, our brains are prediction machines (Feldman Barrett, 2020) and intention certainly impacts what movements emerge – as Araújo and Davids acknowledge - but prediction and intention shape, rather than guarantee, an outcome. In other words, “playing” is not the same as “hitting play.”

Given this complexity, it may be more helpful to think of learning as preparing for a live performance rather than producing recordings to be played later. The live performance will mirror previous attempts, but it can never be the same. No two movements are ever the same and every movement is created in the moment rather than retrieved and repeated from memory alone.

This doesn’t mean that there is no need to train movement. It just means we may need to think differently about how we train movement. To that end, it may be interesting to extend the live performance analogy with some questions that could be directed toward practice or training sessions:

• What makes live performances challenging in the first place? Are your practices designed to give your athletes a chance to learn to navigate those challenges?

• Do athletes have focus cues that will translate to a live performance? For example, technical cues may appear to work when repping out hundreds of shots on air but may not hold up when the game is on the line and you haven’t touched the ball in several minutes.

• Are athletes prepared for unexpected changes to the “set list”? What if someone in “the band” is sick? Do they have a plan B? To borrow from Dr. Ken Ravizza, you better have something to go to when it hits the fan, because it will hit the fan.

• If you are playing a team sport, has the band practiced enough as a unit? You can produce a great record in parts, but that won’t necessarily translate to a live performance. And there aren’t multiple takes, overdubs, or studio musicians!

• Are your athletes ready for the energy associated with a crowd? What about a hostile crowd? An opening act may be met with apathy or hostility, but the headliner may feel pressure from wanting to please their fan base.

To close, I want to recount a story from a sport professional who seemed to get the assignment. He was a shooting coach with an NBA organization that I worked with through Courtex Performance. He definitely had opinions about optimal biomechanics of shooting, but his training methods suggested that he also understood that shooting mechanics aren’t separable from the competitive context.

For example, he once described working with a three-point specialist on his roster. The live performance demanded that the athlete sit for a long period to start a game, sub in at some point, run up and down the floor, and take the first open shot he could get. He may get another one. Or he may go back to the bench to repeat the process until the game ended.

So what did the coach do?

He had the athlete practice that scenario. He would literally make him sit on a bench, jump up, sprint the length of the floor, catch a pass, and get a shot off. Then he would make him go sit there again and do it all over again. That isn’t to say that the athlete didn’t do any other shooting. But it provides a great example of how training isn’t just about developing some technique that exists as a static recording to be played later in competition.

To borrow from sport psychology legend Dr. Bob Rotella, we train it so we can trust it. Practice is for training, but with the goal of being able to trust yourself to “play by feel” when it comes to competition. By thinking of competition as a live performance, you may both improve the design of training sessions and help athletes develop the capacity for “trusting it” when the show starts.

Citations

Duarte Araújo and Keith Davids. (2011). What exactly is acquired during skill acquisition. Journal of Consiousness Studies, 18, 3-4, 7-23.

Lisa Feldman Barrett. (2020). 7 ½ lessons about the brain. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.