I’ve now spent a year and a half working with athletes in Guizhou province, right in the heart of China. Every day brings something new. In previous posts I’ve shared some of the cultural and sporting differences I’ve come across, but one experience has marked me more than any other: coaching always through a translator.

I don’t speak Chinese. And let’s be honest— even if I wanted to, I’d need several lifetimes to reach a decent level. So, from day one, I’ve depended on Bart, my translator. He gives voice to what I want to say to the athletes. What at first seemed like an enormous obstacle has turned into a kind of laboratory for understanding how a coach really communicates.

At the beginning, it was tough. Bart knew absolutely nothing about slalom, so he translated word for word without grasping the meaning behind it. I felt exposed. A coach leans on metaphors, on dramatic pauses, on the ability to highlight some ideas over others. All of that vanished. I was left with bare sentences—stripped of color and nuance.

Over time, I discovered something else: the importance of immediacy. A coach’s message isn’t just the information itself, it’s also the exact moment it’s delivered. That spark, that window of opportunity, often makes a single comment sink deeper than a hundred speeches. But when there’s an intermediary, that moment slips away. You say it, you wait, he translates… and the chance is gone.

I also realized that a translator isn’t just a bridge—he’s almost your soul. Bart is cheerful, warm, and quick to smile. And the athletes see me through him. The image they have of me is not just mine—it’s his too. I’ve been lucky, because his style matches what I want to convey. But I often wonder: what if my translator had been cold, harsh, authoritarian? How would the athletes have received me then?

And then there’s what cannot be translated: the body. Every time someone makes a brilliant—or disastrous—run, all eyes turn to me. No intermediary there. I’ve learned to be more aware of my gestures, my posture, my expressions. Because once your body has spoken, there’s no way to take it back with words.

In the end, this experience has taught me something simple but profound: a coach’s communication goes far beyond words. It’s timing, coherence, presence. And, above all, it’s a way of being.