Play vs. Practice

Player—Led/Coach—Led

When discussing youth sports, we often separate "play" and "practice" into distinct categories. Play is viewed as player-led free expression, while practice represents coach-led structure. But this division reflects a deeper societal assumption: that learning only occurs through explicit instruction from knowledgeable adults. This mindset has dominated education and sports for generations, positioning adults as the sole containers of valuable information that must be transmitted through rules, procedures, and "correct" methods.

To me, play is practice.

Whether we're working with others or told to "practice on our own," the game's essence lies in its interactive nature. A coach telling young athletes to "work on their own" in team settings, fundamentally misunderstands how games work. Sports are inherently about opposition and interaction – every movement has purpose because of the presence of another player. Take tennis, for example: watching a coach mechanically feed balls from a bag creates entirely unnatural situations. These repetitive, isolated movements strip away the critical perceptual information players need from their opponent's body position, racquet angle, and movement patterns. Without this interactive context, we're not actually practicing the real game at all.

Unfortunately, play is often viewed as subordinate to practice – something meant purely for pleasure or warm-ups before the "real learning" begins. But play is actually the driving force behind everything meaningful in youth sports. It represents passion, focus, awareness, and self-expression. It's about freedom, discovery, and the innovation that comes from making autonomous decisions. Through play, young athletes develop collaboration, competition, communication, and perhaps most importantly, character.

Consider what happens in a simple game of 3v3. Each moment contains countless decisions: a player reading their teammate's body position, sensing defensive pressure, feeling the texture of the ground beneath their feet, hearing calls from other players, and integrating all these elements in real-time. No coach can explicitly teach this intricate dance of perception and action. It emerges naturally through play, as young athletes explore their environment and discover what works.

Traditional practice, by contrast, often tries to break these complex interactions into isolated drills and rigid procedures. We create artificial boundaries: "This is the correct way to pass," or "Always make this decision in this situation." But in doing so, we ignore the reality that sports, like all ecological systems, are context-dependent and interconnected. A 'so-called' perfect technique in one moment might be entirely wrong in another. A brilliant decision in one game might be disastrous in the next.

Small-sided games offer a window into how natural learning actually works. In these modified games, young athletes naturally develop what we might call "physical literacy" – not through explicit instruction, but through constant interaction with their environment. Watch a group of kids in a 3v3 game: they instinctively create space, recognize patterns, and solve problems. They develop these abilities not because an adult told them the "right" way, but because their bodies and minds are designed to adapt to complex challenges.

Remember When?

Can it look sloppy and chaotic? Absolutely. But remember how your toddler learned to eat - missing their mouth repeatedly, food everywhere, yet somehow graduating from their personal "combat crawl of doom" to competent eating. They dove into the challenge at whatever "full-speed ahead" meant to them.

"The mess wasn't failure; it was learning in action."

When we step back and truly observe, we see that children are constantly engaging in sophisticated learning processes. A young defender doesn't need to be taught every possible scenario they might face; through play, they develop an intuitive understanding of space, timing, and movement. A striker doesn't need a manual for every type of shot; they discover these variations naturally by experimenting with different situations and surfaces.

Yet despite this natural learning process, we still often prioritize adult preferences and artificial structures over children's natural development needs. As someone who returned to youth sports after starting a family, I've observed how our adult-centric approach can actually interfere with these organic learning mechanisms.

"Kids do not jump into play with limitations, only the ones we impose."

Young athletes rarely have opportunities for genuine autonomy in their daily lives. From structured school days to regulated activities, almost everything children experience is designed and controlled by adults. Sports should be different. Unless we're working to change the entire educational system, athletics remains one of the few areas where we can prioritize freedom and creativity over standardization.

This institutional stance – that adults possess the best or only answers – fundamentally misunderstands how humans interact with complex environments. Youth sports, like all ecological systems, involve countless dynamic interactions that can't be reduced to simple rules or procedures. When we try to control these systems through rigid instruction, we limit the natural exploration and adaptation that leads to genuine learning and development.

The decision to emphasize play challenges our role as adults. Instead of positioning ourselves as knowledge-keepers who must transfer information, we can become facilitators who create rich environments for discovery. This shift requires humility – acknowledging that we don't have all the answers, and that young athletes can develop profound understanding through their own exploration and play.

While adults may think we hold the answers,

our kids are eager to play with the questions!