Our Common Thread

This is a true story about a collegiate tennis player and his coach. Although it’s a story about tennis, it’s really a story about relationships, how good intentions don’t always play out the way we hope, and what it’s really like to be human.

After two highly competitive sets, the player was completely tapped out. Although the score was tied at one set a piece, the player was physically, mentally and emotionally depleted as he collapsed on the bench next to the court. The coach, a former collegiate player himself, recognized this display of defeat, and instinctively knew his player needed help! 

With a desire to lift his spirits and motivate him to keep fighting, the coach talked strategy and shot selection at his player as he stood over him. “You are better than him. Keep attacking his backhand with your forehand. Hit your lefty serve out wide on the ad-court and then get ready to rip your forehand. You gotta keep fighting and not give up!”  

The player could hear the coach talking and see his lips moving but he couldn’t make sense of what he was telling him to do and he didn’t really care. In response, the coach elevated his volume and intensity, and the player turned away and looked down at the ground in front of him. Seconds later, the coach turned and left the court. 

Instead of getting energized, optimistic and pumped up, the player wanted to quit, get off the court, and go home, which is exactly how it played out over the next twenty minutes.

Despite what played out between them and the outcome of the match - the behaviors, execution, performance and personal experiences for both player and coach didn’t match their character, values, skillset, potential or intentions. 

A day later, I met with the coach who was frustrated, confused and concerned about his player’s reaction and how he basically gave up the match. “When my players are struggling, I find that I struggle too, and I don’t believe that I am helping them win the match, so I leave the court and let them go, because I think there is a better chance of them winning without me!” 

The coach deeply cares about his player. No doubt, he truly wants to help him and he gets physiologically immersed in the match as though he’s on the court himself. He holds a tremendous amount of empathy in his body, and his intentions to help are authentic, kind and sincere. 

Despite his character, heartfelt intentions and level of care he truly has for his player, he’s not helping him. 

As the coach watches his player struggle, his own physiology shifts into a threat response. Initially, the coach mobilizes, as he crosses his arms, paces back and forth, and tension builds in his jaw and around his eyes. He raises the volume of his voice as he tries to elevate his player to fight. When this doesn’t work, the coach gets quiet, pulls back, walks away and feels helpless and confused. This is his adaptive bodily reflex of moving rapidly through his mobilized flight zone and into a “more sustainable” version of immobilizing and shutting down. 

This has become his subconscious “go-to” pattern, but now he's aware of it, understands what's happening beneath the surface in himself and his player, and why it’s not helping either of them.

When we are Polyvagal informed, which this coach is now becoming, we can look for what’s happening underneath the surface in the physiology. We can recognize the predictable pattern of responses to challenges. We can notice the neural platforms promoting the behaviors, postures, actions and reactions we see in ourselves and in others. 

We can meet the body where it is, recognize the bodily shifts as they arise, and help ourselves to find enough safety, comfort and vagal control in the moment. Then we can meet "the player" (i.e. partner, colleague, friend, child, student, stranger, etc.) where they are, while we are grounded in a bodily state that is aligned with our intentions, values and goals of truly wanting to help. We can care for our own reflexive reactions, and then get alongside “our player” in a way that matches what their physiology needs from us. 

In this particular situation, instead of talking at, or standing over the player, the coach might have sat beside him, on the bench, and gently, compassionately and patiently encouraged his player to feel his breath, emphasize a longer inhale, and then maybe to gradually stand up, eat some food, take a drink, walk off the court and look up and out at his teammates, or the surrounding mountains, sun and sky.  

As Polyvagal-informed humans, we can become aware of our own reflexive, bodily reactions to challenge, care for these bodily responses, and help to realign our physiology to promote our authentic heartfelt intentions as we engage in our most important relationships. And when we blow it, which we will, we can stay on our own side, help ourselves come back into safety and connection, and then repair.

This is our shared journey - our lifelong quest to find safety, to connect with others, and to feel a sense of belonging. Then to lose it, repair it, and find it once again. Little by little, we reassure our body that it’s safe to let our guard down. That it’s safe to be authentic, accessible and still. That it's safe to make mistakes. And over time, we realign our physiology to support and promote more experiences of safety, connection and belonging in ourselves. And then we share this with others and the world. This is our common thread.

Let’s go!