One of the debates I've had for years as a coach is whether young athletes need more skill development or more strength development.
The answer, of course, is both.
But after more than 30 years of coaching athletes, I've come to believe that's often the wrong question.
The better question is:
What is currently limiting the athlete?
Sometimes it's skill.
Sometimes it's strength.
Sometimes it's confidence.
Sometimes it's opportunity.
And sometimes it's simply that the athlete hasn't found the sport that best matches their biology.
The challenge for parents and coaches is figuring out which one it is.
The Three Forces That Shape Young Athletes
Most discussions about athletic development focus on two factors:
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Skill development
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Physical development
But I believe there is a third factor that often gets overlooked:
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Social development
Kids don't choose sports strictly based on what they're naturally gifted at.
They choose sports because of friends, school culture, family influence, enjoyment, and identity.
As a father, I've learned this lesson firsthand.
My son plays soccer. Part of the reason is that his friends play soccer. He has developed friendships and a social circle through the sport. Those relationships matter.
As coaches, we often focus on optimization.
As parents, we eventually learn that belonging matters too.
The reality is that most young athletes are balancing all three forces at once.
Some Sports Reward Early Skill Development
Certain sports have steep technical learning curves.
Sports such as soccer, baseball, hockey, lacrosse, tennis, and golf reward years of accumulated practice.
A child who starts at age six often has a significant advantage over a child who starts at age fourteen.
The reason isn't necessarily superior athleticism.
It's repetition.
Thousands of touches, swings, passes, shots, and game situations create skills that are difficult to compress into a short period of time.
In these sports, skill is often the bottleneck early in development.
Other Sports Reveal Physical Gifts Later
As athletes mature, something else begins to happen.
Strength increases.
Power develops.
Speed emerges.
Body size changes.
Athletic traits that weren't obvious at age twelve often become very obvious at age sixteen.
This is where biology starts to reveal itself.
Some athletes are naturally explosive.
Some are naturally aerobic.
Some possess extraordinary leverage, force production, or speed.
None of these qualities guarantee success.
But they often provide clues.
And those clues matter.
The Catcher Who Needed a Bigger Engine
One of the most memorable athletes I worked with was a high school baseball catcher.
He already understood baseball.
His mechanics were solid.
His baseball IQ was good.
His skills weren't the problem.
His bottleneck was physical.
Over approximately six months, we focused heavily on strength and power development.
The results were dramatic.
His sprint speed improved significantly.
His throwing velocity increased from roughly 70 mph to more than 80 mph.
His exit velocity jumped substantially.
His pop time dropped dramatically.
What was interesting wasn't that he suddenly learned baseball.
He already knew baseball.
We didn't reinvent his skills.
We upgraded the athlete performing them.
That's a distinction many parents miss.
Sometimes the athlete doesn't need another lesson.
Sometimes the athlete needs a bigger engine.
Why Coaches Keep Testing Athleticism
During my years working with football players, I paid close attention to the tests coaches used to evaluate athletes.
The 40-yard dash.
Vertical jump.
Broad jump.
Bench press.
Strength tests.
Agility drills.
What's interesting is that none of these tests are actually football.
A 40-yard dash isn't football.
A vertical jump isn't football.
A bench press isn't football.
Yet coaches continue measuring them year after year.
Why?
Because they're trying to estimate the size of the athlete's engine.
They're attempting to measure physical qualities that contribute to athletic success regardless of position.
Speed.
Power.
Strength.
Explosiveness.
Relative athleticism.
As a strength coach, I recognized early that if coaches valued these qualities enough to test them, they probably deserved attention in training as well.
So we trained them.
Many of my athletes became exceptionally good at these tests.
In some cases, players who weren't even starters would outperform starters in the testing environment.
That didn't automatically make them better football players.
Skill still mattered.
Decision-making still mattered.
Experience still mattered.
But it demonstrated something important.
Physical qualities can be measured.
Physical qualities can be improved.
And when physical qualities improve, athletic potential often improves with them.
The interesting part is that this doesn't stop at the high school level.
At the professional level, the process becomes even more formalized through the NFL Combine.
Think about that for a moment.
The highest level of football talent evaluation in the world dedicates enormous resources to measuring speed, power, explosiveness, strength, agility, and movement quality.
Not because those tests replace football skills.
But because they help identify the size of the engine underneath the football player.
The scouts already know these athletes can play football.
Now they're trying to determine how much athletic potential exists underneath those skills.
That lesson always stuck with me.
The sports world often talks about skill development, but when scholarships, roster spots, and professional opportunities are on the line, physical qualities are being measured at every level.
Not because they're everything.
But because they matter.
The Swimmer Who Became a Rower
One of my favorite coaching stories involves a young swimmer.
He was a good swimmer.
Not struggling.
Not failing.
A genuinely good athlete.
But after watching him train in the gym for a period of time, I had a conversation with his father.
I told him something that probably sounded strange at the time.
I said:
"I think your son should consider rowing."
His father looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind.
After all, his son was a swimmer.
Why would I be talking about crew?
The answer wasn't based on swimming.
It was based on what I saw in the weight room.
I saw leverage.
I saw force production.
I saw strength potential.
I saw physical qualities that appeared unusually suited to rowing.
Years later, that athlete earned a full scholarship in crew.
I wasn't predicting the future.
I was recognizing that sometimes an athlete's physical gifts point toward opportunities that aren't immediately obvious.
Good Athlete vs. Natural Fit
This is something I think about often as both a coach and a father.
Some athletes are simply good athletes.
They can play almost anything.
They're coordinated.
Competitive.
Physically gifted.
My son falls into that category.
He's a good athlete.
He can succeed in a variety of sports.
But over the years I've noticed something.
When I watch him sprint, jump, accelerate, and generate force, I see the profile of a power athlete.
His body type reflects it.
His movement qualities reflect it.
Even some of his complaints reflect it.
He occasionally tells me he doesn't have the same endurance as some of his teammates.
My response is usually simple:
"That's because you're built differently."
Not better.
Not worse.
Differently.
Some athletes seem capable of running forever.
Others seem capable of producing tremendous force.
The challenge is recognizing which profile you're looking at.
A good athlete can succeed in many sports.
An exceptional athlete often finds the sport that best matches their biology.
The 50-Yard Field Goal
A week ago, my son told me he and his friends were fooling around with a football.
None of them were kickers.
They were simply seeing who could make the longest field goal.
He made one from 50 yards.
At fifteen years old.
As a father, I was impressed.
As a coach, my mind immediately started asking questions.
Was it years of kicking soccer balls?
Was it unusual leg power?
Was it a clue about athletic potential?
I honestly don't know.
What I do know is that moments like that force parents and coaches to think.
Sometimes athletic potential reveals itself in unexpected ways.
The challenge is deciding what to do with that information.
Every Coach Has a Bias
Looking back, I recognize that I have my own bias.
As a strength coach, I naturally see physical limitations.
A baseball coach sees mechanics.
A soccer coach sees ball control.
A football coach sees tactics.
None of us are completely objective.
We all tend to view athletes through the lens of our expertise.
Athletes, meanwhile, often want to please their coaches, which can make those influences even stronger.
The challenge is determining which limitation is actually holding the athlete back.
Sometimes it's skill.
Sometimes it's strength.
Sometimes it's confidence.
Sometimes it's opportunity.
Sometimes it's finding the sport that best matches the athlete.
Finding the Bottleneck
The longer I've coached, the less interested I've become in asking whether skills or strength are more important.
Both matter.
The real question is:
What is limiting the athlete right now?
The answer changes over time.
For some athletes, the bottleneck is skill.
For others, it's physical development.
For others, it's opportunity.
For others, it's finding the right environment.
The goal isn't to force every child into a particular sport.
The goal is to help them discover where their talents, interests, opportunities, and biology intersect.
When that happens, something special tends to occur.
The athletes who reach the highest levels aren't always the ones who work the hardest.
Nor are they always the most gifted.
More often, they are the athletes who eventually find a sport that allows their unique strengths to shine.
As a coach, I've spent years trying to identify potential.
As a father, I've learned that potential is only part of the equation.
Athletes are not machines. They have friends, interests, identities, and dreams of their own.
Sometimes what a coach sees and what an athlete wants are the same thing.
Sometimes they aren't.
The challenge isn't forcing an athlete down a particular path.
The challenge is helping them discover where their gifts can be expressed most fully.
And sometimes, that's the most important coaching lesson of all.
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