You finish speaking and ask, “Was that good?” Someone smiles and says yes. You leave reassured—but still do not know whether your opening caught attention, your story held it, or your ending gave anyone something worth remembering.

A better question is: what landed? That question turns a judgement about you into information you can use.

The Problem

The comparison between life coaching, therapy and football, as reported by The New York Times, offers a useful starting point for examining what we expect from coaching. The comparison alone cannot establish whether any coaching approach works. But it invites an important distinction: feeling encouraged is not the same as knowing what to improve.

For someone developing a voice after a difficult season, that distinction can feel uncomfortable. Your speech may contain an experience that took years to discuss. Asking for criticism can seem like inviting someone to judge your recovery rather than your delivery.

So you ask whether you were inspiring. Your listener offers kindness. Neither of you examines the speech.

This leaves you dependent on approval without giving you a reliable way to develop. You might repeat an opening that takes too long, explain away the very uncertainty that makes your story compelling, or continue speaking after your strongest final sentence.

The answer is not harsher criticism. Nor is it treating emotional pain as a performance problem. Coaching does not replace mental-health care, and therapy should not be reduced to reassurance. The useful sporting connection here is narrower: a specific skill needs specific observation.

The Solution

Gerard Grogans’s perspective, drawn from Captivate, is to examine the work through three connected demands: open strongly, build tension and land the close. Your life is not being graded. You are learning how to shape an experience so another person can follow its meaning.

Start with the opening. Instead of asking whether it sounded confident, ask your listener to identify the moment they understood why they should listen. If that moment arrived halfway through, consider bringing it forward. A strong beginning establishes something that matters; it does not merely announce your subject.

Next, examine the middle. Ask where the listener wanted to know what happened next—and where that interest faded. Tension does not require exaggerating suffering. It can come from an honest gap between what you intended and what you could yet do. Give that uncertainty room before explaining what changed.

Finally, test the close. Ask the listener to repeat the central lesson in their own words. Do not supply hints. If they remember the incident but cannot explain its significance, the ending may need a clearer connection between your experience and their lives.

Listen without defending every choice. A listener’s response is evidence of one person’s experience, not a universal verdict. Look for a useful adjustment, make it, and test the revised version. Feedback becomes coaching material when it leads to a deliberate change.

The Key Takeaway

Ask for feedback on what your opening, middle and ending accomplish—not on whether people approve of you.

Your Homework

Today, record a two-minute story about a challenge you can discuss comfortably. Play it for one trusted listener and ask three questions: When did you understand why this mattered? Where did your attention weaken? What lesson remained at the end?

Write down their answers without explaining your intentions. Choose one change suggested by those answers, revise that section, and record the story again. Compare the recordings for that specific improvement rather than deciding which version makes you feel better about yourself.

Make the first recording today. You do not need a verdict on your potential; you need one clear observation that helps you speak more effectively. Use it, and keep becoming.