“You Don’t Need 10,000 Hours — You Need Curiosity.” Exclusive interview with Olympic coach Wayne Goldsmith

Wayne Goldsmith’s journey into elite sport is anything but typical. He wasn’t a prodigy or a star athlete. In fact, he failed high school, bounced through a series of factory-floor and clerical jobs, and admits to drifting through early adulthood. But a chance encounter with a former classmate — and a return to exercise — ignited something far more powerful than talent: a love of performance. That spark led Goldsmith down a path of relentless learning, self-discovery, and transformation, eventually taking him to the Olympic Games, into national leadership roles, and onto the global stage as a mentor to coaches across disciplines.

In this wide-ranging conversation with Racket Business, Goldsmith speaks candidly about the state of coaching — from grassroots to Grand Slam. He reflects on what it takes to transition from club coaching to elite environments, the myth of 10,000 hours, and why endless repetition fails today’s athletes. With stories that span swimming, tennis, rugby, and the business of sport, his insights challenge conventional wisdom and highlight a coaching philosophy built on curiosity, connection, and continuous learning. Whether you’re a junior coach or an aspiring high-performance leader, this is a conversation that pulls no punches — and leaves no doubt why Goldsmith remains one of the most respected voices in modern coaching.

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Racket Business:
You’ve worked on the business side of sport as well as on performance coaching. Do you apply the same principles from your elite coaching to business?

Wayne Goldsmith:
There’s a bit of a myth in the corporate world that sport is somehow behind business. I’ve rarely found that to be the case. In fact, I’ve generally found that good leaders and managers in sport are equal to — or in many cases, better than — those in the corporate world.

The reason is: in business, unless you're in a listed company, you’re not publicly accountable for your performance in the same way. You can run a company or a small business and never really have to answer to public scrutiny. But if you're a coach? Everything hangs on your performance — your business, your athletes’ success. You're judged constantly and publicly.

So in that environment, those of us in this business have had to learn to perform under pressure, in public, under scrutiny — and to be open to feedback and criticism, and evaluate it with the intention to improve.

We’re surrounded by athletes who are constantly learning and improving at a rapid rate. That means we have to learn and develop at the same pace — or faster. It's an environment that produces great leaders. I’m not sure the corporate world fully understands just how transferable those skills are — the skills professional coaches develop. Because if you’re not good at it, you don’t survive. You can’t fake it. If you call yourself a professional coach — in tennis, swimming, gymnastics, whatever — and you're not actually good, you’re out. People walk away. That’s the ultimate form of accountability.

So yes, I think the skills we learn in running a high-performance sports business are extremely valuable and very applicable to the corporate world.

I do a fair bit of crossover work. But what I’m noticing more and more — especially in Australia, New Zealand, the UK, and Canada — is how sensitive the corporate space has become. In sport, I can look a coach in the eye and say, “This isn’t good. Here’s why you’re failing. Here’s what you can do better.” And most coaches will take that on, challenge you, ask questions, and grow from it.

In corporate environments, though, that kind of direct feedback isn’t always welcome. There’s a lot of sensitivity around criticism, negativity, even constructive feedback. So I’ve had to temper my message when working with business teams.

Racket Business:
Do you find that the younger generation is less open to criticism than older generations?

Wayne Goldsmith:
Absolutely. But that always makes you sound old when you say “the younger generation,” doesn’t it? Like anything, you’ve got to figure out how to deliver the message in a way that they’ll actually hear.

When I work with professional sports teams, for example, I ask coaches to prepare a 3-minute talk to the team — on attitude, commitment, dedication, something like that. Then I’ll say, “Now cut that down to 30 seconds.” Because that’s all you’ll get.

If you’re speaking to 18- to 30-year-olds in professional sport, they won’t give you three minutes. They’ll give you 30 seconds. They don’t want a backstory. They don’t want to know what Roger Federer did. Incredible athlete — but they don’t care. They want to know: what can I do right now to get better? It’s got to be short, sharp, TikTok coaching.

The second thing I tell coaches is this: the most important skill you have now is asking questions.

Say you're working with a tennis player and trying to improve their serve. The old model was:

· 200 serves to be good

· 400 serves to be great

· 500 serves to win a Grand Slam

That repetition-based model still exists in some places, but it's outdated. I’m not after volume anymore — I’m after engagement.

So instead of saying “Do it again,” I start asking questions. I want to develop what I call athletic inquisitiveness. For example:

“Where did the ball go?”
“A metre behind the baseline.”
“Why do you think it went there?”
“Too much shoulder... not enough racket speed…”
“What could you change to land the shot where you want it?”
“Maybe shift my grip…”

That’s powerful. Now they’re owning the problem-solving process. They’re learning.

But if I just stand there shouting, “Racket head! Feet! Follow through!” — I own the solution, not them. And that doesn’t stick.

Think about the language we use:

“We’re working on your serve.”
“We’re developing your game.”

But then we take away ownership by doing all the decision-making. The younger generation needs to feel: this is my game, my tennis, my path — and my coach is here to guide me.

If you’re still standing and yelling and relying on endless repetition… it just doesn’t work anymore. Not in tennis. Not in any sport.

That’s the message. Endless repetition does not work with this generation.

Racket Business:
We’ve got two follow-up questions from what you just said. Firstly, have you read the 10,000 Hours book? Secondly, how does that idea fit with what you’re saying?

Wayne Goldsmith:
Yeah — and to be honest, I’m not a big fan.

If you look at Malcolm Gladwell’s follow-up interviews — they’re on YouTube — even he’s not a huge fan of how the idea was interpreted. That original research was based on people doing very repetitive, simple tasks — like "yes/no," "bang/bang," one-two type work. Very linear, basic actions.

But if you look at tennis players, for example, they’ve got to think about what we call the four H’s — head, hands, hips, and heels. Then there’s wind, sun position, where the opponent is, racket angle, ball spin, rhythm, timing, breathing — it's not a simple action. You can’t just say, “Do it 10,000 times and it’ll be perfect.” That assumes you’re doing it right in the first place.

Doing something poorly 10,000 times doesn’t make it right. Ten thousand wrongs don’t make a right. I hear this all the time: “It’s about repetition.” Well, no — repetition of something incorrect only reinforces the wrong pattern.

I truly believe it’s more efficient to coach engagement than repetition. I recently wrote an article on Substack about this — we always talk about training variables like volume, intensity, and frequency. But the fourth — and often most important — variable is engagement.

The simplest mindset I try to give athletes is:
“I wonder what would happen if…”

That sparks engagement. If an athlete is just doing 50 backhands down the line because the coach told them to, they’re on autopilot. One, two, three — tick the box.

But if they’re asking, “Where did that shot go?” “Why did it go there?” “What if I shifted my stance?” — now we’re talking about learning. That’s deliberate practice. That’s real improvement. So no, I’m not a fan of how the 10,000 hours concept has been simplified and misused. Repetition is not the secret to success. It’s time we moved beyond that.

Racket Business:
A lot of our subscribers are club coaches, or they coach amateurs. They often don’t get the chance to watch their players compete, unlike elite coaches. How can they apply the kind of work you’re describing — without seeing players on the competitive court?

Wayne Goldsmith:
A lot of it is absolutely possible now — thanks to technology.

We’ve got performance-tracking and self-monitoring apps that athletes can use. They can record themselves. I actually did a series of posts recently on Substack about how to turn your athlete into their own video analysis coach.

These tools are everywhere now. In tennis and other sports, athletes can record themselves with a smartphone. A coach, parent, or teammate can hold up an app that tracks performance and provides useful feedback. That data can be shared with the coach afterwards.

I also think keeping a basic journal is hugely valuable.

And I don’t mean an old-school handwritten diary — though I still use one! I mean something simple, short, and device-based. I say to athletes:

“Just send me a voice note after your match.”
“Hey Wayne, just got off court. Tough game — lost 7–6, 6–7, 4–6. Felt pretty good. I’d rate my serve an 8, forehand a 7, backhand a 3. Fitness felt like an 8, mentally I started strong but struggled under pressure. Overall, I'd give it a 6 out of 10.”

That’s journaling in a format young athletes are comfortable with. It’s short, it’s spoken, it’s real-time — and it gives valuable insights.

Even five years ago, I’d go out to shadow coaches on the court or field. I’d observe their language, body positioning, how they gave feedback — and how the athletes responded. Sometimes I’d use a GoPro to film it all.

Back then, I’d debrief with coaches in person after training. Now? I record everything as it happens — especially when working with pro coaches — and upload it to them. They download it as a podcast. Why? Because they’re busy. They don’t have time to sit down with me for an hour. But they’ve got time on the train, or in the car. They’ll listen to the podcast of their own session — with my voice overlaying insights — and then call me to follow up.

So even if you don’t think you have the time for one-on-one development, you do. You just need to reshape what coaching looks like.

It’s about adapting how you deliver feedback. About leveraging technology. About shifting from repetition to engagement. And most importantly — making the athlete take ownership of their learning.

That’s how club coaches can still deliver high-performance coaching — even when they’re not physically there.

Racket Business:
Just two more very short questions and then we’re done. We’ve read your comments and your work on pathways — and while this isn’t specifically about that, I think it’s related. What happens quite often is that coaches have a player who’s doing well, and that player then gets noticed by other coaches or national associations.

What would you say to a coach who’s facing that moment — where they might be about to lose a player because that player has been approached by a national body and starts seeing their name in lights?

Wayne Goldsmith:
Yeah, it’s difficult — and it happens in tennis and swimming a lot. Earlier this year, I spoke at the New Zealand Tennis Coaches Conference in Auckland — which was fantastic — and this topic came up. It’s a real challenge.

There are a few ways to think about it. First of all, if we’re in a relationship — personal, business, or coach-athlete — that feels rewarding, relevant, and full of mutual growth and belonging, we stay in that relationship. I’m not talking about a social relationship with an athlete, but if that professional connection is strong, meaningful, and care-driven, then the risk of losing the athlete is much smaller.

Athletes, like all of us, become receptive to outside opportunities when they feel there’s a gap — a lack — in what they currently have.

Second, sometimes the athlete will go — and it’s awful, but you may not be able to stop it. What I’ve seen coaches do, and what they must be careful about, is fall into the talent trap. They believe in their coaching philosophies and methods, but when someone says, “If you don’t change this, we’re leaving,” they fold. Usually it’s the parents pushing this. The coach, afraid to lose the player, begins to change their methods and program.

Suddenly, their whole coaching structure is revolving around one athlete. And sure, if that athlete turns out to be Andy Murray, maybe it works. But more often than not, it doesn’t — and the coach ends up compromising their entire program for someone who might not go the distance.

I've seen it so many times. A coach travels with one promising junior to a national event, and meanwhile, their business at home suffers. Other paying clients notice they’re not around. Parents are asking, “Where’s Johny?” And the answer is, “Off with a talented 13-year-old.” That’s not sustainable.

You have to be a professional. Prioritise your business, your relationships with the wider group, and your core program. If you can support that standout athlete within your system, great. But don’t compromise everything you've built on the slim chance you're coaching the next Grand Slam champion — because the odds of that are very small.

It’s a real trap. I’ve actually got a book coming out soon on the topic of talent — it’ll be released in about a month. It talks about exactly this. Yes, there are Federers, the Williams sisters, Andy Murray, Nadal — the once-in-a-generation players. But most of us are working with kids who simply love the game. Their parents might have big dreams — hopefully the kids do too — but the bottom line is this:

Talent is overrated.
Don’t worship physical talent. It’s deceptive.

If you’ve run a tennis program or racket business for 10 years, ask yourself — how many superstars did you think you had at ages 10, 11, or 12 who weren’t even playing by 15? Probably lots. And you won’t even remember most of their names.

Now, think about the kids who make coaching worthwhile. Why do you love coaching them? It’s because they keep turning up. And the only athlete who doesn’t improve is the one who stops coming.

Who are the kids who show up every day, give everything, enjoy your company, build friendships, and want to keep improving? The ones who feel they belong in your program. The ones who see relevance in what you’re offering. You don’t speak to a 15-year-old the same way you do a 12-year-old. The best programs evolve with the athlete.

I joked with the tennis coaches in Auckland — in swimming, we talk about the money lanes.

Those are the swimmers who’ll never make the Australian team. But they keep showing up, their parents pay fees, and they make the business viable. And you’d be surprised how many of those kids — the ones who weren’t early superstars — go on to make national teams at 15, 16, 17 because they just keep turning up, enjoying it, and improving steadily.

That’s the art: balancing your business with the pursuit of peak performance.

Racket Business:
Yeah, fascinating. Okay — last question for you. I suspect we’ve got quite a few coaches who are thinking about moving into more elite performance coaching. You mentioned your own journey earlier — and while I know you wouldn’t necessarily recommend your exact path, how should a coach make the transition from a club-based environment into a more elite one? What would your advice be?

Wayne Goldsmith:

Here’s the bottom line:

You’ve got to decide who you are and what you stand for.

Call it your coaching philosophy, your identity — whatever. But you need clarity.

Yes, participation and performance can exist together. But from my experience — especially in swimming — most coaches have large participation programs. Lanes full of kids, turning up and down, paying $100–200 a month. It’s lucrative, but it’s mass training — not coaching.

Then you’ve got a small number of coaches running elite high-performance programs — maybe 3 to 10 athletes. It’s highly focused, personalised, deliberate. And very few people succeed trying to do both at once.

Very few. It’s incredibly hard to balance elite demands with the volume and breadth of a large participation business. Managing parents, writing programs, travelling to events, running the business — it’s a full-time job. Now try doing all that and also managing elite athletes? It’s nearly impossible.

So you have to ask yourself:
Why am I switching?

And be honest — because elite coaching doesn’t make as much money. That’s the first hard truth.

Second, do you have the skills to work with elite athletes? Participation coaching is about fun, retention, energy, relationships with parents — and that’s important.

But elite coaching? That’s pressure. Public evaluation. Media scrutiny. Long hours. No days off. Travel. Time away from family. Phone calls at 2 a.m. It’s constant.

If you say to an elite athlete, “What are your goals?” and they reply, “I want to be the best in the world,” then you have to match that intensity. If they want to beat someone who trains 50 hours a week, you have to be ready to match that with coaching, presence, support.

So don’t say, “Yeah, I think I’ll go pro, sounds fun.” Know what it looks like. Know what it costs. Talk to your family. Bring them on the journey. Because no one wins every week. You have to be ready to handle failure, pressure, and still keep going.

Here’s a good story to finish with.

One of my mentors — a great swimming coach who led Australian Swimming for years — used to say this about the Olympics:

“There are two kinds of coaches at the Games.
One group dreads it. They feel exposed, tested, vulnerable.
The other group lives for it. They can’t wait. They see it as the culmination of four years of hard work. They want to be tested.”

If you hear that and think, “Yes — I want to be part of that. I want to chase excellence, stand shoulder to shoulder with my athletes, and go after greatness,” then maybe elite coaching is for you.

But if deadlines, pressure, and public evaluation scare you — really scare you — then it’s okay to rethink. It’s not for everyone.

But for those who love it?

They really love it.

Racket Business:
That’s brilliant — thank you. Is there anything you wanted to say that we haven’t touched on?

Wayne Goldsmith:
Well, yes — just a quick message for coaches who are running a business. It’s about trying to find that balance between business and coaching excellence.

Here’s a good story to finish on — specifically about tennis. An old tennis coaching friend of mine, Terry, and I were talking about dealing with parents. I remember Craig Tiley once joked to me:

“If it weren’t for unreasonable parents, there’d be no tennis players.”

But Terry Saunders told me a story that’s always stuck with me. I asked him, “How do you decide who to accept into your program?” And he said:

“I ask the player three questions — with Mum and Dad sitting on either side.
First, I look at the player and say: ‘What is it about tennis that you love?’
If Mum or Dad answer, that’s one strike.
Then I ask: ‘What is it about my program — Terry Saunders’ coaching — that appeals to you?’
If Mum or Dad answer again, that’s two strikes.
Third question: ‘What do you hope to achieve in your tennis career?’
If Mum or Dad answer for a third time, I say, ‘Thanks very much. Here’s a card for Tim — go join his program down the road.’”

Terry said,

“In the end, I want to work with athletes who love the game and who have a clear vision of where they want to go.
If you’ve got that, talent is irrelevant. That’s the kind of kid I want to coach.”

I think that’s a valuable lesson. Coaches need a process — not just taking anyone who walks through the door. Ask yourself:
“What do I stand for?”

I stand for kids who love the game.
I stand for kids who want to work hard.
I stand for kids who will get along with me and with each other.

Don’t be afraid to say, “Look, I don’t know if this is the right program to bring out the best in your child.” That’s a respectful and professional way to set standards.

And maybe one final message while we’re at it — because I’m in this space a lot right now:

If you’re not already using AI — get familiar with it.

I’m 64, and even for me, it’s transformed the way I work. I’m currently using three different AI services, and it’s made me far more efficient and productive. It’s freed me up to do more than I ever thought possible.

If you’re new to it, coaches, I suggest starting with ChatGPT. Then explore Claude.ai. There are some incredibly powerful tools out there.

To give you an idea — in professional rugby league, one of the teams I work with interviewed our senior coaches, then fed those interviews into Claude. From that, we created a persona model. Now, our junior coaches can ask questions, and the AI responds using the philosophies, voice, and approach of those senior coaches.

It’s like getting direct access to the brain, experience, and attitudes of the top professionals — even if you’re just coaching the under-12s. That means a consistent coaching philosophy all the way from junior teams through to our NRL squad.

That’s not science fiction — that’s already happening.

So if you’re still just using ChatGPT as a glorified Google, now’s the time to evolve. AI can completely transform your business. It can handle the boring stuff — program design, practice planning, session logging — and free you up to coach.

Don’t ignore it.
It could change everything about how you coach — and how much you enjoy it.

Racket Business: Were you an elite athlete to start with? How did you get to where you are now?

Wayne Goldsmith:
I went to high school in Sydney, failed really badly, and just got a whole succession of jobs that we’d call blue collar. Working in stores, in a factory, as an accounts clerk, in an insurance company — folding forms to put in the mail. I never enjoyed it, and I drank too much.

I was still hanging out with the guys I went to school with and was quite happy with that life. I guess I went through a period during school where I thought I might like to write or do something creative, but I got such terrible marks in my final year that I couldn't get into anything — not even trade school.

So I thought nothing of just going to work, earning money, going to the horse races on the weekend, and having a good time with mates. I put on a fair bit of weight. Then I ran into an old friend from school who said, “Goldie” — which is what I've always been known as — “you're fat and ugly. You can’t do anything about the ugly, but you’ve put on a lot of weight.” He reminded me that I used to run at school and play football, and said, “Why don’t you come do some exercise with me?”

He worked fairly close to where I did in Sydney, so I started meeting him at lunchtime — which meant going for a run. I got into running and, through that, ended up being part of the Sydney to Melbourne Ultramarathon for a few years — as a crew member and coach, without any formal training. I just fell in love with performance, with seeing people get better. There’s almost a whole story just in that.

At one point I went to a seminar linked to the race — it was a 1,000 km race from Sydney to Melbourne, about 650 miles — and a sports scientist was presenting. I thought, “Wow, this guy gets paid just to be in sport. That’s pretty cool.” After the seminar, I asked how he got to do what he does. He said, “I went to uni, got a job at the Australian Institute of Sport, and now I’m the Head of Physiology.”

I thought, “I want to do that.” So I wrote to the AIS and the University of Canberra. They said I didn’t qualify. But to their credit, they gave me a path: “Go to technical college — like trade school — and do maths, chemistry, physics, and biology. Coach while you're doing that. If you do all that, we’ll give you a chance.”

So I basically did the final year of high school again. I started coaching swimming, athletics, and strength and conditioning. After 12 months, I got into university, went to Canberra, studied, and coached to pay the bills.

In 1993, Australia won the bid to host the 2000 Olympics. Swimming Australia was looking for someone to bridge the gap between sport science, research, and applied coaching. Somehow, I bluffed, cajoled, and hustled my way into that role — and became the National Sports Science Manager for swimming, leading into the Sydney Olympics.

After that ended, a great friend of mine, Bill Sweetenham, went to the UK to lead British Swimming and asked me to come help set up their high-performance system. I worked with Bill for about six months, came back to Australia, and was asked to lead a fascinating government project.

They wanted to understand the post-host phenomenon — why many nations succeed at a home Olympics, then go through long periods of decline. I visited places like Barcelona, Tokyo, Montreal — studying what host nations did leading up to the Games that they failed to sustain afterwards. As a result of that work, we actually had a better Olympics in 2004 than we did in 2000.

After that, I was looking for work and a friend of mine had just become the Head of Triathlon Australia. He asked me to become National Program Manager. It was a time of big change. We had a great World Championships in 2003 and 2004. I walked in the Opening Ceremony at the Athens Olympics with the Australian team — we won a silver medal. Thought we should’ve done better, but “should have” doesn’t win medals.

In that process, I got to know Eddie Jones, the rugby coach. His psychologist also worked with the triathlon team. I invited Eddie to do some work with the triathletes. He said, “I’ll come help — but you’ve got to come on tour with the Wallabies at the end of the year.” That got me involved in rugby. Over the years, I’ve worked with the New Zealand Rugby Union, and various coaches and teams across a long period of time.

That opened doors to working in AFL, tennis — and probably most relevant to your audience — Tennis Australia.

At one point, the Australian Open was underperforming. It was the poorest of the four Grand Slams and in danger of losing its Grand Slam status. After the 2004 Olympics, I was brought in — with two or three other specialists — to review Tennis Australia. Over six months, we completely transformed it.

We brought in Craig Tiley — the best sports administrator I’ve ever known. We overhauled the board structure — from legacy and tradition to a skills-based, independent system. Craig’s exceptional — that transformation opened a lot of doors.

To this day, I do coach mentoring on-field with National Rugby League teams. I work with Olympic teams, AFL clubs, write, consult — all sorts of things.

So… long story short? I don’t really know how I got here. I just am.