Self-Regulation for Performance
Focusing on how you practice, not how much.
I met with the team at the beginning of the season for a short conversation/presentation on sports psychology and other performance-related topics.
One topic was self-regulation and practice routines, and I borrowed heavily from the paper “Comparing self-regulatory processes among novice, non-expert, and expert volleyball players: A microanalytic study,” by Anastasia Kitsantas and Barry J. Zimmerman.
Kitsantas and Zimmerman described self-regulation as “the degree to which an individual is meta-cognitively, behaviorally, and motivationally involved in his or her own learning.” Most players practice reasonably hard, but they are not necessarily involved in their own learning. They may look forward to practicing and be motivated to practice, but they show up on time, follow directions, do as the coach says, and leave. Practice is done to them rather than they taking control of their own learning, practice, and improvement.
Kitsantas’ and Zimmerman’s research argued the manner in which a player practices is more important than practice frequency or duration. Elite performers practice differently, not just more often and longer. As Kobe Bryant said, “It’s not about the number of hours you practice, it's about the number of hours your mind is present during the practice.”
The research divided self-regulation into 12 processes further categorized into three phases (forethought phase, performance control phase, and self-reflection), loosely equating with prior to, during, and after practices, although practice in this case could refer to a drill, activity, period of practice, or the entire practice.
Forethought Phase: Goals, planning, self-efficacy, perceived instrumentality, and intrinsic interest.
Performance Control Phase: Self-control strategies, strategy use, and self-monitoring.
Self-Reflection: Self-evaluate, attribute causation, self-satisfaction, and adaptation.
The “quality of learners’ self-regulation was more predictive of volleyball serving success than their knowledge of technique or years of experience.” Those who planned their practice, monitored their practice, shifted strategies during their practice, and adapted during their practice served better than those who did not, regardless of experience.
In our rush to quantify practice hours and repetitions in the pursuit of the mythic 10,000 hours (Fake Fundamentals, Volume 3), we ignored the purposefulness of our practice. Excellence is not simply showing up day after day, although persistence is important. Instead, expert performance derives from engaging with the practice. This is one of the biggest messages I attempt to share with players, as the most common answers when asking players about improvement are more and harder, rather than better or more mindful. Just doing more and going harder is not enough; players need to be more aware of what they are doing and how. Every coach touts “game shots at game speed from game spots”, but what does that actually mean? (Fake Fundamentals, Volume 2) How does that actually improve performance?
Expert servers prepared for practice differently. They set process goals — they focused on technique goals rather than outcomes. I worked out with a player yesterday and implored him not to worry about makes and misses, but to feel his movements instead. We worked on his weak-hand finishes, and especially extending his left arm when shooting layups, hook shots, and the in-between shots. I wanted to see him extend his arm and finish his shots, ideally with the ball hitting high on the backboard. Shooting percentages were unimportant. I want him to shoot better in games and have the confidence to attempt a greater variety of shots; I am unconcerned with his practice percentages. The process goal was change — extending the left arm and finishing the shot — not making shots.
Non-experts focus on outcomes. They judge a shot’s success by whether or not it goes in the basket. Accepting there are such things as good misses and bad makes is a tough adjustment for young players. One may make 5 of 10 shots and believe he shot well, but if he accidentally banked in two shots, he missed his target on 70% of his attempts. The missed shot just hitting the back iron and popping out is a better shot than the unintentional banked-in make.
Experts planned their practice with more structure than non-experts. I coached a great junior-college point guard who had pre-practice and post-practice routines she followed religiously. She was the first one in the gym nearly every day, and she went through exercises for her knee tendonitis followed by dribbling drills and shooting. After practice, if the court was free, she shot, and then she did some more body work, including pushups. She had her routine, and she did not allow others to disturb or rush her. I encourage my players to develop some form of pre-practice routine, whether maintenance exercises to rehab or prevent an injury or basketball-specific drills. Few players follow through.
We have morning skill practices three times per week with mixed groups. Some practices have competition and small-sided games; some do not. I encourage players to think about their goals for the practices. In a team practice, with a lot of competition and a desire for intensity, planning is often difficult. However, in isolated, undefended, and/or self-paced drills, players can focus more intently on individual goals.
If we do a basic undefended curl shooting drill, players can plan and attend to the aspects of their shot they want to improve. Are they trying to improve their footwork? Shot quickness? Are they trying to jump more in their shots? Do they need to adjust their hand positioning on the ball? The best players use the drills for more than making the shots; they try to improve something specific about their shot.
Not surprisingly, experts had increased self-efficacy and interest. They believed in their skill and illustrated a greater desire to perform well. While the process goals and the planning may describe how players became experts, the greater self-efficacy and interest may be because they are experts. Do players become great because they practice more or do they practice more because they have shown some ability and/or had their abilities recognized by a coach? Likely, these are intertwined and difficult to distinguish, like the chicken and the egg problem.
Experts used more specific technique strategies and self-monitoring. For instance, in another study by Zimmerman, expert performers used a set routine for each free throw, whereas non-experts were less inclined to use the same routine. This is a common teaching strategy, yet many players hurry to the free-throw line and shoot without a consistent routine. Also, when monitoring their serves, the non-experts focused on the outcome (where the serve landed), while experts also monitored their technique.
One goal for a new shooter is to feel the desired technique and learn the difference between the desired technique and everything else. Once players can contrast the feelings, they can self-monitor their performance and adjust. I know upon release whether or not I will make the shot; furthermore, I can identify makes and misses on most of my players most of the time as the ball leaves their hands. I have watched a lot of shooters shoot a lot of shots, and have developed this skill of identification, in addition to the feel of my shot developed over years. Too often, coaches and trainers comment after every repetition, and players never learn to trust their feelings — they depend on their coach. They lose concentration, as the coach thinks for him, alleviating players of their responsibility in the learning process. I learned by shooting on my own and chasing my own rebounds — anticipating makes and misses, and where misses would bounce, saved me from chasing my ball to the bottom of the cul-de-sac because of my narrow driveway court.
I instruct as little as possible, but as much as necessary. I watch body language. Are they frustrated? Do they thrive with frustration or spiral? Do they need reassurance? A challenge? Positive reinforcement? A cue? A reminder? Silence? Should we move on or persist?
Experts self-reflect after the skill execution and attribute their failure to a flaw in their technique — something within their control. Non-experts tend to reflect less and attribute their failure to luck or power — when I taught young players to serve overhand, initial responses were often “I’m not strong enough.” Strength rarely was the issue; coordination is more often the problem with overhand serving and shooting. Players can adjust and adapt when they attribute a missed shot to a technique flaw. They search for a solution, a way for them to change the result in their next attempt, rather than make an excuse.
There is of course a balance between constant change due to a miss and normal variance of shooting. This is the purpose of the process goals. A good miss demonstrates progress, despite the poor outcome; no need to adjust. With the player yesterday, I offered positive reinforcement after every attempt that hit high on the backboard, whether or not it was successful, because it was moving in the right direction. A miss did not necessarily signal a need to change, but to continue developing the coordination and confidence.
Experts were more likely to make a change or seek assistance after consecutive errors. If they sense something is amiss, they try a new approach or make a slight adjustment. An expert who misses a free throw short likely adjusts on his next shot.
In some cases, expert shooters should not change. When players hit the front rim, the common instruction is to bend their knees more: Parents and coaches yell this at every youth game. What if they snapped back their wrist or shot flat-footed or leaned backward or rushed the first shot? By monitoring performance and feeling the mistake, they can make minor tweaks rather than exaggerating their knee bend and creating a different shot. Often, the first shot is essentially the warmup, and they are prepared for the second shot without any need to change anything, which is the reason most free-throw practice should focus on the first free throw (Fake Fundamentals, Volume 2).
Just like shooting, self-regulation is a skill, and learning to self-regulate is a process. Beginners often lack the awareness to make changes. Encouraging these different self-regulatory processes is as important as the initial technique instructions. How do players practice on their own when I correct their mistakes, but do not help them understand or give them tools to help their self-monitoring? How can players maximize a self-paced group shooting drill when I cannot watch every repetition intently and offer feedback to every player on every repetition? Players need to take control of their own learning, create their own processes, understand their own skills, monitor their own progress, and devise ways to address their weaknesses within the team drills and through pre- and post-practice routines, individual practice, and more. Ultimately, how one practices matters more than what they practice, how much, or how often.