Recently, while I was taking up my normal Saturday position on a youth soccer game sideline, I overheard a conversation between two parents as they watched the players warm-up. “I just love watching James play soccer. He’s just one of those natural talents.” “I agree. Even though his parents never played growing up, he just seems to have inherited all the right genes to be a top player.”

It’s a common belief among parents and some coaches that kids either have “it” or they don’t. Of course, some skills can be gained from practice, but the talent theory of player development and team selection seems to favor the opinion that athletic skill is “hard-wired”, unable to progress much beyond the natural limit.

Now, several books are out to prove this theory incorrect, with titles such as “The Talent Code: Greatness Isn’t Born, Its Grown”, “Talent Is Overrated”, and “The Genius in All of Us: Why Everything You've Been Told About Genetics, Talent, and IQ Is Wrong.” The common thread through all of the research studies quoted by the authors is the mantra that practice makes perfect. More specifically, about 10,000 hours of highly structured practice is required to reach elite performance levels.

Is athletic success that black or white? Instead, is there a combination of talent and tenacity that is required to reach the top? I put these questions to an expert who spends most of his waking hours trying to find the answer.

Peter Vint

Peter Vint is the High Performance Director for the United States Olympic Committee. His responsibilities include leading and coordinating the efforts of sport science and medical professionals focused on the Olympic sports of swimming, track and field, shooting, equestrian, weightlifting, and golf as well as the Pan Am sports of bowling and water skiing.

His team is responsible for conceptualizing, developing, and implementing successful and sustainable applied sport science programs with a focus on maximizing athlete development, performance, and longevity.

Recently, Peter was kind enough to endure my endless questions on this topic. Here is a synopsis of our conversation:

Dan Peterson: Peter, what makes a great athlete? Is it raw, inherited talent or years of dedicated practice?

Peter Vint: The question of what makes an athlete great is very complex. The extent to which performance is influenced by genetic predisposition or the expression of these traits through extensive hard work and practice is not at all a black and white issue. Human performance is always nuanced and complicated and multivariate. That said, if forced to give an opinion, I would absolutely fall on the nurture/deliberate practice side of this issue than on the nature/"giftedness" side.

But, whether you subscribe to the narratives in The Talent Code, Talent is Overrated, Bounce, Outliers, Genius in All of Us, etc. or not, a great number of the cited references in these books are solid and substantial. Be sure to review the footnotes and bibliographies.

DP: Most of the books you reference go back to the research of K. Anders Ericsson of Florida State University, known as the “expert on experts.” His theory states that an individual needs at least 10 years and 10,000 hours of deliberate practice in their chosen sport or skill to become world-class. Some authors take this literally and suggest that is all that is needed. Do you agree?

PV: First, it’s important to recognize that the 10 year/10,000 hr rule is more of a general guideline than an absolute standard. Ericsson is very clear on this but perhaps owing to the simplicity of the message, it is quite possible that the general public has interpreted this in a more absolute sense. That said, I do think that Ericsson’s work is being somewhat oversimplified in that he, and others in this field, realize that there are obvious and necessary interactions between genetic predisposition, "deliberate practice", and even "opportunity" or circumstance. To what extent this has actually happened I cannot say. I can point to several examples in the popular media where authors have captured these complexities nicely (e.g., Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, Matthew Syed’s Bounce, and David Shenk’s The Genius in All of Us).

It is likely that athletes like Lebron James, Shaquille O'Neill, and Kevin Durant would never have become an Olympic gymnast or Triple Crown winning jockey - regardless of how hard or how deeply they practiced. But, how many athletes with a relatively similar genetic makeup to guys like Lebron, Shaq, and KD have NOT become superstars? A lot. And, to flip the coin, how many superstars arise from relative obscurity or against all odds? A lot. Even when we do become aware of "young geniuses", closer inspection often yields interested and engaged and supportive parents and an environment that encourages and supports "effort" - and not "the gift" (see Carol Dweck’s “Mindset” for an exceptional treatment of this topic). Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, and Tiger Woods come to mind.

My feeling in reading a broad body of literature related to human performance is that, in general (and there are notable exceptions to this), there is likely a minimal set of physical traits or genetic makeup which facilitates achievement to a particular level of success. Note that this may not be an absolute necessity (think, Mugsy Bogues). However, I believe the great differentiator in human performance is not genetic predisposition. but rather the expression of the gene pool which is itself now clearly related to the extent to which the individual accumulates hours of "deliberate practice".

I see another common misinterpretation in the 10 year/10,000 hr rule. The literature is clear in this but the general public’s understanding often misses the distinction in that this is not simply accumulated hours of practice, but accumulated hours of DELIBERATE practice. Dan Coyle's introduction in "The Talent Code", "The girl who did a month's practice in 6-minutes" is, in my opinion, perhaps the most insightful example of this distinction I’ve ever read.

DP: So, do genetics play any role in sports success?

PV: My short answer is yes, to varying extents, they do. But, as before, I do not believe that genetics are necessarily an absolute limiter of exceptional performances. "Skill" is developed, not from basic physical or cognitive attributes or from some magical quality ("a gift"), but from sustained, effortful, and effective practice complemented with meaningful, well-timed, and actionable feedback.

Skill itself is a complex process and almost always involves many different types or classes of skill: motor skill (the physical actions involved with "doing something"), mental skills, and perceptual skills. The extent to which these various types of skills are called into play will depend on the overall task being executed.

For example, a pilot controlling an automated aircraft may need only nominal motor skill to press a button, but will require substantial mental and perceptual skill to understand what happens when the automation switches from one mode to another. On the other hand, a basketball player will require extensive motor skill in executing a drive to the basket but will, though to a lesser extent, also involve perceptual and mental skills. Good examples of the world's best players in sport (especially team sports) seem to have exceptionally well developed perceptual skills which allow them to "see the field" better than others and "know where players will be before they even arrive".

So, physical ability (height, strength, speed, coordination) and the specific genetic code which tends to manifest it, may or may not play a significant role in the execution of the skill, depending on what the skill actually requires. The same is true of genetic predisposition, which may either enhance or impair the development of mental and perceptual skill.

In the context of sport, well-matched physical abilities are often very advantageous. That said, those same physical attributes, without an ability to properly coordinate body actions or to properly execute the action at the appropriate time or to adequately control them under pressure or in unusual circumstances, more often than not, will lead to poorer performances. Pointing again to examples like Wayne Gretzky or Magic Johnson, these were not the biggest, fastest, or strongest athletes in their sport. Their exceptional performances came from exceptional development of all facets of the skills they were required to execute in the environments they worked in. This did not happen magically but through hard work, vast and varied experiences, and a level of physical ability that allowed them to execute. To quote Wayne Gretzky, “I wasn't naturally gifted in terms of size and speed; everything I did in hockey I worked for. ..The highest compliment that you can pay me is to say that I work hard every day…”

DP: Peter, thank you very much for your insight.

See also: Brains Over Brawn In Sports and Winning Olympic Gold With Sport Science

Sometimes, during my daily browsing of the Web for news and interesting angles on the sport science world, I get lucky and hit a home run. I stumbled on this great May 2007 Wired article by Jennifer Kahn, Wayne Gretzky-Style 'Field Sense' May Be Teachable. It ties together the people and themes of my last three posts, focusing on the concept of perception in sports.

Wayne Gretzky is often held up as the ultimate example of an athlete with average physical stature, who used his cognitive and perceptual skills to beat opponents. Joining Gretzky in the "brains over brawn" Hall of Fame would be pitcher Greg Maddux, NBA guard Steve Nash and quarterback Joe Montana. They were all told as teenagers that they didn't have the size to succeed in college or the pros, but they countered this by becoming master students of the game, constantly searching for visual cues that would give them the advantage of a fraction of second or the element of surprise.

Kahn's story focuses on two sport scientists that we have met before. Peter Vint, sport technologist with the US Olympic team, who I highlighted in the post, Winning Olympic Gold With Sport Science, comments on this, "In any sport, you come across these players. They're not always the most physically talented, but they're by far the best. The way they see things that nobody else sees — it can seem almost supernatural. But I'm a scientist, so I want to know how the magic works." So, Vint and his team continue to search not only for the secret to the magic, but how it can be taught.

Vint acknowledges the work of one of his fellow sport scientists, Damian Farrow, of the Australian Institute for Sport, who was part of the discussion roundtable mentioned in my post, Getting Sport Science Out Of The Lab And Onto The Field.

He is also fascinated with the perceptual abilities of elite athletes. In his own sport, tennis, he wanted to know how expert players could return serves much better than novice players. Similar to the research we looked at in an earlier post about tennis, Federer and Nadal Can See the Difference, Farrow designed an experiment that would try to identify the cues that players might need to instinctively estimate the speed and direction of a serve. He had three groups of players, expert, non-expert but coached, and non-expert/non-coaced novices, wear ear plugs to block out the sound of the ball hitting the racquet as well as occlusion glasses that could block vision with the touch of an assistant's button.

By changing the point of the serve at which the glasses would go black, and the players would be "blind", he could try to isolate the action of the server that the expert players might be tuned into that the novices were not. The decisive point was immediately before impact between the racquet and the ball. Arm and racquet position at that point seemed to let the expert players estimate the direction of the serve more accurately than the novices.

But Vint and Farrow are not satisfied just knowing what an expert knows. They want to understand how to teach this skill to novices. From his own competitive tennis playing days, Farrow remembers that if he consciously focused his mind on things like arm position, racquet angle, etc., he would be miss the serve as his reaction time would drop. He understood that players need to not only learn the cues, but learn them to the point of "automaticity" through implicit learning.

You may remember our discussion of implicit learning from the post, Teaching Tactics and Techniques in Sports.   Malcolm Gladwell, in his best-selling book, Blink, calls this implicit decision-making ability "thin slicing" and gives examples of how we can often make better decisions in the "blink" of an eye, rather than through long analysis. Obviously, in sports, when only seconds or sub-seconds are allowed for decisions, this blink must be so well-trained that it is at the sub-conscious level.

For Vint and Farrow, the experiments continue, looking at each sport, but beyond the raw physical and technical skills that need to be taught but often times are the only skills that are taught.

Understanding the cognitive side of the game will provide the edge when all else is equal.