The 'Must' vs. 'Should' Crisis: Do we know what we are developing beyond the immediate

Developing beyond the pitch, Must vs Should

Look around the modern youth soccer field. Are we seeing environments that are primed for youth player development? 

Players moving in precision: nine-year-old kids in matching gear, walking through drills and cones with synchronized obedience. Are we convinced this neatness and order is the sign of development? 

Vocal coaches (who are often parents) —“Pass left!”, “Open up!”, “Press!”—and the kids jump. To most people, this looks like football. But what are we actually developing? Who will those players be when we do not instruct?

Have we have successfully engineered a generation of “Must-Do” athletes?

They are experts in compliance. They do what they have to do. The coach gives a solution, they execute the technique. The parent demands effort, they run a lap. The system requires their attendance, they show up. But then the whistle blows on match day. The game explodes into a chaotic, unscripted mess—a complex system where the coach's voice is swallowed by the noise and the cones are replaced by dynamic, unpredictable opponents. And these same compliant athletes freeze. They look to the sideline for the GPS, the joystick controller to tell them their next move. They have the Must, but they are bankrupt of the Should.

This is a deep dive into the ethos of my own "Grumpy Soccer" avatar, which is simply this: We are failing to develop the "Should-Do" capacity in our young athletes. "Should-Do" actions don't come from compliance; they come from agency, from seeing the world clearly, and from finding your way through it. It's the action a player takes not because he was told to, but because he saw an opening, made an autonomous decision, and realized: “This is the solution the moment demands.”

Drawing from the hard science of ecological dynamics, wayfinding as ascribed by Mark O’Sullivan at AIK Stockholm, the practical psychology of Dan Abrahams, and a necessary punch-up of Simon Sinek's personal development structures with a touch of complexity science, this document is a container of my current thoughts. It is a challenge to my current view of a “Must” culture that infects the 5 to 18 age groups, and it proposes an overhaul of how we develop both the player on the pitch and the person off it.

The Theoretical Crisis – “Have To” vs. “Should Do”

The Anatomy of “Must”: The Age of Prescriptive Control

If we want to know why we’re producing one dimensional players instead of adaptive problem-solvers, we need to dissect the prevailing youth coaching methodology. The dominant model is still stuck in a linear, industrial paradigm. It treats the athlete like a biological machine that must be programmed with the "correct" techniques before we can possibly trust them to play the game.

In this “Must” paradigm, the information flow is a one-way street: from the coach (the all-knowing authority) to the athlete (the empty vessel). The actions are prescriptive:

• "You must pass with the inside of your foot."

• "You must stand in this specific zone during the buildup."

• "You must look at me when I am talking."

  
  

This pedagogical reliance on explicit instruction creates what researchers call "prescriptive control." The control of the action rests outside the person performing it. Yes, this approach often yields rapid, short-term results—the drill looks great, the image of the session is orderly—but it creates a dangerous and fragile athlete. The player is moving, but they are not solving the problem. They are simply copying a solution handed to them by an adult.

This broken phenomenon is cemented by “path dependence”. Path dependence is why bad, outdated coaching methods stick around even when the evidence screams they shouldn't. Coaches coach the way they were coached. The entire system is locked into a cycle of “Musts” because it is culturally safe for the adults. A coach who runs a messy, chaotic session where players are exploring “Should” actions risks looking incompetent to the parents who equate silence and straight lines with quality. The “Must” becomes a shield for the adult, protecting them from scrutiny while simultaneously crippling the child’s ability to adapt.

The Anatomy of “Should”: Wayfinding, Not GPS

In stark opposition, the “Should” action is built on “prospective control.” This is the athlete's internal, regulating ability to perceive information in the environment and adjust their body movements to achieve a future goal.

• “I see the defender rushing, so I should take a heavy touch into space to beat him.”

• “I feel the tempo dropping, so I should drive forward with the ball to raise the energy of the team.”

“Should” actions are emergent. They are not screamed; they are discovered. This is the core of “Wayfinding.” Wayfinding isn't following a GPS map—that’s the “Must” system: “Turn left in 100 meters.” Wayfinding is about navigating a landscape by reading the signs yourself—the terrain, the weather, the opponents’ position.

In soccer, a Wayfinder doesn't memorize a pattern of play. Shape is a starting point, system, strategy, tactics are pre game thoughts. Places to anchor from when needed.

They learn to read the entire landscape of the game—where teammates are, the pressure from opponents, the chaotic bounce of the ball—and find their own path through it. The “Should” is the decision-making bridge between seeing the environment and executing the action. When we strip players of the chance to find their own way—by constantly shouting “Must” instructions—we blindfold them, leaving them dependent on instruction and realizing they cannot solve the problem in front of them.

The theoretical engine powering the “Should” athlete is Ecological Dynamics. This framework completely rejects previous theory that skill is a pre-programmed script stored in the brain. Instead, it argues that skill emerges from the non-stop interaction between the organism (the player), the task (the game), and the environment (the pitch, the weather, the opponents).

Central to this is James Gibson’s theory of affordances—the opportunities for action that the environment provides:

• A gap between two defenders affords a through ball.

• A high bouncing ball affords a volley or a header.

The “Must” approach ignores these individual affordances. A coach might scream, “You must switch the play!” But if the young player lacks the necessary leg strength (an organism constraint) or the grass is long and muddy (an environmental constraint), that affordance simply doesn't exist for them. The “Must” instruction forces them to attempt an action that is impossible or suboptimal, leading only to failure and crushed confidence.

A “Should” approach invites the player to act on the affordances they perceive. “What options do you see?” “Where is the space for you?” This validates the player's unique perspective and encourages them to link their perception with their action. It moves the athlete from being a passive receiver of orders to an active explorer of their own environment.

In the corporate world—and much of the coaching world—Simon Sinek’s “Start With Why” has been treated as a standard. The idea is good (I do try to apply it in my own life): Great leaders inspire by clearly stating their purpose (Why) before getting into the process (How) or the product (What). It’s not wrong, but are we using it incorrectly?

When you try to apply that linear “Why → How → What” model to the chaotic, complex system of a youth soccer team, it can become dangerously reductive. Complexity theory warns that in truly complex systems—where you can only understand cause and effect by looking back in time—you cannot always start with a pre-defined “Why.”

In a U12 match, the “Why” is emergent. A player might dribble not because of a philosophical commitment to the club’s attacking style (the Club's "Why"), but because the immediate pressure from a defender forced an adaptation. If we impose a rigid “Must” structure based on a high-level “Why” (e.g., “We are a possession club, so you must never kick it long”), we steal the adaptive “Should” (e.g., “I should clear this now because I am surrounded, and safety is the only priority”).

Dave Snowden’s Cynefin framework tells us that in complex situations, we must "Probe-Sense-Respond." We have to let players experiment (safe-to-fail probes), observe what naturally happens (sense), and then reinforce the successful behaviors (respond). This is “Path Creation,” which is the opposite of “Path Dependence.” It admits that the “Why” is often only fully revealed after the action. A player makes a brilliant, instinctive move, and only later, in the car ride home or the video review, do we unpack the “Why” behind it.

The “Should” athlete lives in this complex reality. They don't take a timeout to consult the club's mission statement; they act on the immediate information. Our coaching models need to embrace this glorious messiness, not try to sanitize it with rules.

Part II: The AIK Stockholm Model – Wayfinding in Action  “As Many As Possible, As Long As Possible”

AIK Stockholm, driven by the research and philosophy of Mark O’Sullivan, is a living model of the “Should” philosophy. While most top European academies operate on the “Must” logic of exclusion (cutting players at 9, 10, 11 to find the “elite”), AIK adopted a radically inclusive mantra: “As Many As Possible, As Long As Possible.”

This isn't some social charity project; it’s a high-performance strategy rooted in ecological dynamics. The “Must” logic assumes we can spot talent early—that a 9-year-old “Must” have certain traits to be a future professional. O’Sullivan and the research community prove this to be nonsense. Talent is non-linear and emergent. You cannot possibly know who will be elite at 20 based on their skill level at 9.

By keeping the pool wide, AIK allows for the inevitable late bloomers—the ones who didn't fit the “Must” criteria at age 10—to find their “Should” trajectory later in adolescence. Crucially, this removes the “survival anxiety” that poisons young players in cut-throat academies. When a child is terrified of being released, they default to “Must” behaviors: compliance, hiding, playing safe. When they feel secure, they experiment with “Should” behaviors: risk, creativity, and expression.

The Toxic “Elite” Label

One of the most damaging insights from O’Sullivan’s work is the corrosive effect of the term “elite” when applied to children. Labeling a group of 8-year-olds the “Elite Squad” creates an immediate, toxic, path-dependent narrative:

• For the “Elite” Child: “I must maintain this status. I must not make mistakes. I must prove I belong.” This breeds a crippling fixed mindset and a terror of failure.

• For the “Non-Elite” Child: “I should probably just give up. I’m not good enough.”

This labeling is a socio-cultural constraint that instantly shrinks the landscape of possibilities. The “Elite” child stops taking risks (Shoulds) because the price of error (losing “Must” status) is too high. The “Grumpy Soccer” angle here is simple: Parents love the badge “Elite” because it validates their status. Our job is to puncture that parent ego-balloon with the sharp, undeniable needle of evidence to educate, not insult.

The contrast between “Wayfinding” and the “GPS” approach to coaching:

• The GPS Coach: “Dribble to the cone, turn left, pass to Bobby.” The destination is guaranteed, but the learning is zero. The player is a passenger.

• The Wayfinding Coach: “Your goal is to invade the opponent's half. How you get there is up to you.” The objective is the goal, but the path is negotiated and discovered by the players themselves.

In AIK’s (Swedish Football Club) system, training is designed as a dynamic landscape to be explored. The coach designs the environment (the woods), but the players must find the path through the trees. This builds “wayfinding knowledge”—a deep, embodied understanding of the game that you can’t write on a whiteboard, only perform. This knowledge is robust and resilient. When the “GPS” signal dies (i.e., the game plan collapses), the Wayfinder can still function. The “Must” robot shuts down. This is the Constraints-Led Approach (CLA) in Action

The practical tool for building Wayfinders is the Constraints-Led Approach (CLA). Instead of shouting “Must” instructions, the coach uses constraints to guide discovery.

Table 1: From Instruction (Must) to Constraint (Should)

Traditional “Must” Instruction	Ecological “Should” Constraint	Mechanism of Action
"You must use your left foot!"	Rule Constraint: "Goals scored with the left foot count double."	Creates a value proposition. The player realizes they should use their left foot to win, driving intrinsic adaptation.
"You must spread out!"	Space Constraint: Playing on a wide, short pitch or dividing the pitch into zones that must be occupied for a point.	The environment forces the behavior. Players realize they should stay wide to receive the ball, without being told to.
"You must pass faster!"	Task Constraint: "3 seconds to score once the ball enters the attacking third."	Time pressure forces the adaptation. The "Should" (a quick release) emerges naturally from the urgency of the task.
"You must press high!"	Equipment Constraint: Using a smaller ball or adding an extra defender to the pressing team.	Increases the frequency of turnovers, teaching players they should press immediately to regain possession.

This shift redefines the coach: they are no longer a dictator of “Musts” but an architect of “Shoulds.” It demands patience—the “Grumpy” acceptance that the session might look messy for ten minutes while the players struggle to figure it out. But that mess, that struggle, is learning happening.

The Psychology of Agency – Deconstructing Dan Abrahams The Skill-Will Matrix: A “Grumpy” Re-evaluation

The “Skill-Will Matrix” is a corporate and sports psychology classic. It neatly sorts people into four boxes:

1. High Skill / High Will: The Stars (Delegate).

2. Low Skill / High Will: The Learners (Guide).

3. High Skill / Low Will: The Problems (Excite/Motivate).

4. Low Skill / Low Will: The Dead Weight (Direct/Remove).

Dan Abrahams, a leading sports psychologist, challenges the static nature of the "Low Will" label. In the “Must” culture, a player who looks “Low Will” (lazy, disinterested, uncompliant) is often simply discarded. But through an ecological lens, “Will” isn't a fixed personality trait; it’s a direct response to the environment.

• The “Must” Diagnosis: “Johnny is lazy. He has low will. He must run more laps to build character.”

• The “Should” Diagnosis: “Johnny is disengaged because the environment offers him zero autonomy. He sees no affordances for his style of play. I should change the constraints to invite his participation.”

Abrahams rightly argues that “Low Will” is often just “Low Clarity” or “Low Autonomy.” If a player is constantly being hammered with “Must” instructions, they fall into a state of learned helplessness. Why even try (Should) if I know I’m just going to be told I’m wrong (Must)? 

By simply restoring agency—by asking the player, “What do you think we should do?”—we often witness a miraculous recovery of “Will.” The Grumpy truth? “Low Will” players are often just smart kids bored senseless by our terrible coaching.3.2 The “Game Face”: The Ultimate “Should”

One of Abrahams’ most powerful tools for building agency is the “Game Face” technique. This is the practical method for pushing a player from external emotional regulation (“Coach, motivate me”) to internal self-regulation (“I will motivate myself”).

In a “Must” environment, the coach is the energy source. The coach gives the “Any Given Sunday” speech. The coach screams from the sideline to “Wake up!” This fosters complete dependency. Or worse, apathy and frustration.

In a “Should” environment, the player is responsible for their own mental state. The Game Face is a self-selected persona or script that the player deliberately activates to perform at their highest level.

The Mechanism is simple:

1. Identify Best Performance: The player recalls a time they played their absolute best.

2. Identify Descriptors: They pick 3 words to define that peak version of themselves (e.g., “Relentless,” “Playful,” “Dog”).

3. The Persona: They embody this character. “Today, I am the Relentless Dog.”

Why this is a “Should” tool: It is completely autonomous. The player chooses the words. It is not the coach saying, “You must be aggressive.” It is the player saying, “I play best when I am aggressive, so I should activate that persona.” 

It also crushes ANTs (Automatic Negative Thoughts). When a player makes a mistake, the “Must” brain says, “I must not fail again, the coach is watching.” The Game Face brain says, “A Relentless Dog doesn't care about one lost bone; I should hunt the next one.”

Conclusion – The Architecture of Agency

The single biggest challenge facing modern youth development is the shift from “Have to” to “Should do.” It is a move from Industrial Compliance to Ecological Agency.

We have spent decades perfecting the “Must.” We have countless manuals, endless curriculums, and thousands of drills designed to ensure that every player knows exactly what they must do. And in doing so, we may have engineered a generation that is terrified to find out what they could do.

The “Should” is not a lack of discipline. It is a higher, purer form of discipline—self-discipline. It is the discipline of the Game Face, the discipline of the Wayfinder who scans the horizon and chooses the hard path because it is the right path for them.

We can keep building as we have always built, striving for order. Or, we can embrace the mess, the chaos, and the sheer grumpiness required to build Wayfinders—young people who, when the map is lost and the coach is silent, will stand tall, look around, and say, “I know where I should go.”

And then, they will move.