In applied sport psychology, there are few phrases as common and as well-intended as "just relax." It is offered courtside, whispered from dugouts, and delivered quietly between repetitions on the practice field. It reflects care, belief, and a desire to help an athlete return to what looks, from the outside, like a more natural state. And yet, when an athlete is experiencing the yips, this advice rarely lands. In many cases, it does the opposite of what we intend.
To understand why, we have to move beyond surface-level interpretations of performance and take seriously what the yips actually represent from a psychological and neuro-motor standpoint.
The yips are not a simple failure to stay calm. They are a disruption across interconnected systems — sitting at the intersection of attention, emotion, and motor control. The athlete doesn't merely feel anxious; they experience a breakdown in the coordination between intention and execution. What was once fluid and automatic becomes effortful and uncertain.
When we tell an athlete in that state to relax, we are implicitly framing the problem as one of excessive tension alone. That framing is incomplete. It overlooks that the athlete's brain has begun to interfere with processes that were once governed by highly efficient, automated pathways. Skills that were built through repetition and trust are now being managed consciously, often in real time, under pressure. This shift from automatic to controlled processing is one of the central mechanisms underlying the yips, and it is not reversible through a vague instruction to calm down.
In fact, the instruction itself can heighten the very processes we are hoping to reduce. When an athlete hears "just relax," they often turn their attention inward in an attempt to comply. They start scanning for tension, monitoring their body, and judging whether they are succeeding at relaxing. This increases self-consciousness and amplifies what we call explicit monitoring rather than allowing the motor system to operate freely, the athlete becomes an active supervisor of movements that are far too complex and rapid to benefit from conscious control.
At that point, the athlete is caught in a loop. They are trying to fix the problem by thinking more carefully about it, which makes the problem worse. The original disruption deepens, not because the athlete lacks effort or care, but because the strategy being applied is mismatched to what is actually happening.
There is also the relationship side of this that deserves attention. Language matters because it communicates not only instruction, but understanding. When an athlete who feels stuck, frustrated, or even embarrassed hears "just relax," it can create a subtle but meaningful disconnect. The athlete may interpret the message as a minimization of their experience — as if the solution were simple and their difficulty were somehow unwarranted. This can lead to increased frustration and, in some cases, a genuine sense of isolation.
A more effective approach starts with recognizing that the goal is not relaxation in isolation, but regulation. High-level performance does not require the absence of arousal. It requires the ability to manage energy in a way that supports execution. Athletes do not need to feel perfectly calm; they need to be able to function effectively within their own optimal range. That is an important distinction, and it changes everything about how you intervene.
From this standpoint, we shift toward helping athletes develop specific, trainable skills that allow them to influence their state in real time. Breathing becomes useful not as a generic relaxation tool, but as a deliberate means of down-regulating physiological activation and anchoring attention. A slow, controlled exhale can interrupt the escalation of tension and provide a moment of clarity before action. Over time, these brief interventions become integrated into a broader performance routine, creating consistency across environments and levels of pressure.
Equally important is where the athlete puts their attention. One of the most consistent findings in sport psychology research is that an external focus — on the intended effect of the movement rather than on the mechanics of the body — tends to support more efficient and fluid execution. In the context of the yips, this shift can be genuinely transformative. It allows the athlete to step out of the role of micromanager and return, gradually, to a more instinctive mode of performance.
This transition does not happen overnight, and it cannot be achieved solely in low-pressure conditions. If the yips emerge under stress, then the recovery process must include structured exposure to stress. This doesn't mean overwhelming the athlete — it means carefully reintroducing elements of pressure in a controlled, progressive way, helping them rebuild trust not only in their technique, but in their ability to execute that technique when it matters.
An additional layer involves how the athlete interprets their own experience. The yips often carry a significant emotional load. Athletes may fear that something fundamental has been lost, or that their identity as a performer is at risk. One of our roles is to help reframe the situation. Rather than viewing the yips as a permanent flaw, we position them as a temporary disruption within a highly trainable system. That shift in perspective reduces threat and opens the door to more adaptive responses.
In practice, this means replacing vague directives with clear, actionable cues and collaborative problem solving. Instead of telling an athlete to relax, we might explore what they notice during their best repetitions — helping them identify a simple, repeatable focus point that connects intention to action. We might guide them in building a pre-performance routine that includes a breath, a visual or kinesthetic cue, and a consistent trigger to begin. Over time, that routine becomes a stabilizing structure the athlete can rely on, even in challenging moments.
What emerges is not just a reduction in symptoms, but a more resilient athlete — one who understands how to regulate their state, direct their attention, and adapt under pressure. In that sense, working through the yips can ultimately deepen an athlete's psychological skill set in ways that extend well beyond the original challenge.
So while "just relax" is rooted in care and good intention, it falls short because it oversimplifies a complex experience. The path forward is not about trying harder to be calm. It is about learning how to engage the mind and body more effectively. When we meet athletes with that level of nuance and respect for the process, we give them something far more valuable than quick advice. We give them tools they can trust.
Baseball offers some of the most visible and well-documented examples of the yips, particularly because of how precise and repeatable throwing and fine motor skills must be under pressure. Players such as Rick Ankiel, Steve Blass, and more recently players who have struggled with throwing accuracy in the infield, remind us that this challenge can emerge even at the highest levels of performance.
Rick Ankiel's story resonates deeply in sport psychology circles. As a highly talented pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals, Ankiel experienced a sudden and severe loss of control during the 2000 postseason. What followed was not a simple slump, but a prolonged disruption that made it nearly impossible for him to throw strikes. Importantly, his eventual recovery did not come from trying to relax harder on the mound. It came from stepping away, recalibrating, and ultimately reinventing himself as an outfielder. In that new role, he was able to rebuild confidence and reconnect with more instinctive patterns of play.
What is often overlooked in stories like his is not just the outcome, but the process. Athletes who work through the yips typically do so by changing their relationship with the skill. They reduce over-analysis and reintroduce trust through repetition, exposure, and simplified routines. They shift their attentional focus away from mechanics and toward external targets or rhythm. And they benefit from environments that reduce judgment and allow for gradual re-engagement with pressure.
There are also less publicized examples across professional and collegiate baseball — infielders who struggled with routine throws and were able to recover by adjusting their pre-throw routines, altering arm slots temporarily, or increasing variability in practice. These adjustments are not merely mechanical. They function psychologically to disrupt the negative feedback loop and allow the athlete to experience success again, even in small increments. Success here is less about perfection and more about re-establishing a sense of predictability and control.
What ties these examples together is not a single technique, but a consistent pattern. Athletes improve when they move away from vague instructions and toward structured, intentional strategies that address attention, arousal, and confidence simultaneously. They improve when they are given space to struggle productively, rather than being rushed toward a quick fix.
The takeaway for athletes, coaches, and parents is both hopeful and practical. The yips are not a dead end. They are a signal that something in the performance system needs to be recalibrated. With the right approach, that recalibration is absolutely possible.
At Grow Sport Psychology, this is the work we do every day. We help athletes at all levels understand what is happening beneath the surface of their performance and develop concrete, individualized strategies to move forward. Whether an athlete is dealing with the yips, performance anxiety, confidence challenges, or consistency issues, our approach is grounded in AASP-informed principles and tailored to the demands of their sport.
If you or an athlete you work with is experiencing the yips, you do not have to navigate it alone. With the right support, what feels stuck can begin to shift.
To learn more or to get started, you can connect with Grow Sport Psychology to schedule a consultation and take the first step toward building a more confident, adaptable approach to performance.
