Someone Is Always Watching (Including You)
Athletes are on a pedestal—especially in a school setting.
Some people cheer for you. Some secretly want you to fail. Either way, more eyes are on you than you think.
When I worked at places like IMG, Punahou, and Pace, college recruiters rolled through almost weekly. Here’s what most athletes don’t understand:
By the time a college coach shows up at practice, they already know you can play. They’ve seen the film. They’ve checked the stats. They didn’t fly across the country to confirm you still know how to dribble or tackle.
They came to see everything in between the highlights.
I remember standing next to a legendary college coach—national titles, rings, the whole deal—watching a receiver everybody was hyped about. Stud on film. Total monster.
Quarterback overthrew him on a deep ball. Instead of sprinting, the kid slowed up, let the ball hit the turf, pouted, and walked back to the huddle.
The coach watched quietly and said one sentence:
“I’ve seen the film. I’m here to see who he is between snaps. He doesn’t fit our culture.”
Door closed. Not because of speed or hands.
Because of a jog.
That’s how fast it happens.
Coaches watch how you jog back after a mistake.
How you listen in meetings.
How you react when you’re subbed out.
How you treat the kid who never plays.
But it’s not just coaches:
Teachers see whether you walk into their room like you own it or respect it.
Younger kids copy your body language and attitude.
Parents of teammates see how you talk to their kids.
You’re building a reputation whether you’re trying to or not.
And then there’s the second half of that chapter title:
“Including you.”
You are always watching yourself.
You know when you cut a sprint early.
You know when you fake a rep.
You know when you coasted and hoped nobody noticed.
You can fool a tired coach. You can fool distracted teammates.
You cannot fool the part of you that saw everything.
That part shows up on game day.
If you’ve been cheating the little things all week, a part of you remembers. That’s the voice that whispers, “I hope the ball doesn’t come to me,” or “I don’t know if I’m really ready.”
On the other hand, when you’ve handled your business—finished reps, ran through the line, stayed coachable—that same voice says, “You’ve earned this. Let’s go.”
That’s real confidence. Not hype videos. Not motivational quotes. Just an honest history with yourself.
As a coach, you can help athletes connect these dots. After a game, instead of only asking, “How did we play?” ask:
“How did we prepare?”
“Did we live like a team that deserved to feel confident?”
For athletes, here’s a simple filter:
Act like your future self is watching a replay of this week. Would they be proud of how you handled the boring stuff? Or would they be shaking their head thinking, “We were better than that”?
Someone is always watching.
College coaches. Teammates. Younger kids.
And the one person who matters most:
The version of you that has to live with your choices.
