Coaches Aren’t Robots. We’re Human - and the Pressure to Be “Perfect” Is Breaking Us.

 

Somewhere along the line, coaching stopped being about people and started being about performance.

Perfect sessions.

Perfect behaviour.

Perfect results.

Perfect communication.

Perfect resilience.

And if you slip? If you get tired, frustrated, emotional, overwhelmed, unsure? That’s treated as failure- or worse, weakness.

The modern coach is expected to operate like a machine. Always switched on. Always composed. Always motivating. Always learning. Always giving. Never cracking.

But coaches are not robots. We’re human beings, and the pressure to be perfect is quietly burning people out.

The Myth of the “Ideal Coach”

There’s an unspoken image of what a “good coach” looks like:

• Calm under all circumstances

• Emotionally intelligent 100% of the time

• Never reactive

• Never unsure

• Never affected by external stress

• Always positive

• Always available

That standard isn’t just unrealistic - it’s impossible.

Yet coaches are judged against it constantly. By players. By parents. By clubs. By governing bodies. By social media. By themselves.

One bad session and the whispers start.

One emotional reaction and you’re “unprofessional.”

One mistake and suddenly your competence is questioned.

No one asks why. No one asks how you’re coping. The expectation is simply: do better next time.

Coaching Is Emotional Labour - and We Pretend It Isn’t

Coaching isn’t just drills and tactics. It’s emotional work.

You manage:

• Other people’s confidence

• Other people’s disappointment

• Other people’s expectations

• Team conflict

• Individual insecurities

• Your own doubts

You absorb frustration so players don’t have to. You carry responsibility so others can enjoy the game. You show up even when you’re exhausted, grieving, anxious, or stretched thin.

And yet coaches are rarely given space to feel any of that.

We’re told to “leave it at the gate.”

To “be the bigger person.”

To “set the tone.”

At what point do we get to be human?

Perfection Culture Creates Silence

When perfection is the standard, honesty disappears.

Coaches stop admitting they’re struggling.

They stop asking for help.

They stop saying, “I don’t know.”

They stop being vulnerable because vulnerability feels unsafe.

Instead, we get surface-level wellbeing initiatives and empty slogans:

“Check in on your coaches.”

“Coaching is about growth.”

But growth doesn’t happen where people feel judged.

Wellbeing doesn’t exist where mistakes are punished.

Support isn’t real if it’s conditional on performance.

The Cost: Burnout, Dropout, and Disconnection

Grassroots sport is haemorrhaging coaches, and this pressure is a huge part of why.

People don’t leave because they don’t care.

They leave because they care too much and feel constantly scrutinised, undervalued, or disposable.

When coaches are treated like tools instead of people:

• Passion turns into obligation

• Creativity turns into fear

• Commitment turns into resentment

And eventually, the joy goes.

What Coaches Actually Need

Not praise. Not perfection. Not pedestal treatment.

They need:

• Grace when things go wrong

• Trust instead of constant oversight

• Permission to be human

• Space to learn publicly, not just privately

• Support that isn’t performance-based

They need to be allowed bad days. Bad sessions. Emotional moments. Learning curves.

Because those things don’t make someone a bad coach- they make them real.

Better Coaching Comes From Humanity, Not Perfection

The irony is this: the best coaches aren’t perfect.

They’re reflective.

They’re honest.

They’re willing to admit mistakes.

They model learning, not flawlessness.

Players don’t need robots. They need role models who show what growth actually looks like including the messy bits.

If we want healthier sport, better retention, and stronger communities, we have to stop demanding perfection from the people holding everything together.

Start treating coaches like humans.

Because no one thrives when they’re expected to be a machine.

I feel incredibly lucky to be part of a club where I am psychologically safe and feel able to make mistakes because ultimately that’s when I do my best learning. We all know that not all clubs treat their coaches so kindly and it’s time we change that.