clark-elite

Olympic Badminton to Business Coaching: A Lifetime Rally

Wed, 05 Nov 2025 17:29:31 GMT

Olympic Badminton to Business Coaching: A Lifetime Rally

Whoosh. THUMP. Whoosh. THUMP.

“Do you know the fastest swing in sport?”

Whoosh. THUMP. Whoosh. THUMP.

The seated crowd were frozen, hooked on a man driving shuttlecocks into the wall behind them, just above their heads.

Shouts of golf, tennis, even cricket, echoed. THUMP.

“No, it’s badminton…”

Whoosh. THUMP.

The man swinging the racquet with precision and presenting is former Olympic badminton player and coach, Anthony Clark.

We’re in the LCB Depot in Leicester. Transfixed. Hanging on his word. Carried by every swing of this racquet, every thump of the shuttlecock.

Rooted in resilience, communication, travel, family, friendship, World Championships, coaching, competitions, and the Olympics, we’d learn a lot in the next few minutes.

And it all started with a kid collecting shuttlecocks.

Shuttlecock Kid

What makes an elite athlete? What makes them tick? What sacrifices do they pass?

Well, after a thumping presentation here I was sitting down, 1-2-1, with Anthony Clark, to get a fuller picture of his story so far.

I’ll be honest with you; it’s more a saga stuffed with moments then a story told in minutes.

So where do we begin?

We figure the start is a good place as any.

“My earliest memories are five years old running around changing rooms at badminton halls and running behind the courts and obviously getting in the adults’ way while they’re playing”

5 years old seems young, doesn’t it?

But it’s not the first time he was picking and nicking shuttlecocks from adult players.

During his speech, he shows us a news article.

Framed, the paper brown round the edges.

There’s a picture of a small boy, racquet in hand, collaged with adults playing the game (we learn the two in the bottom corner are his parents) who is actually 3 years old.

That little boy is Anthony.

“My parents both played…my dad was a three-time junior national champion and met my mum through playing badminton.”

Those early courtside chapters were the building blocks for what was to come.

“I was probably learning how to play from a very, very young age…one thing my parents wanted was for me to play lots of sports.”

Golf, cricket, running, tennis, football, rugby, he played the lot. But badminton was the sport that set the shuttlecock on fire.

And from his early teenage years Anthony’s mum was entering him into badminton competitions.

“The main time I got really properly into it was when I was 12, nearly 13…the woman who ran the tournament knew my parents, so that's how mum got me in there…I'd obviously been hitting with my parents for years…”

But in that same tournament, a player lost their doubles partner and Anthony was asked to fill the gap.

“My mum then got asked if I wanted to play the mixed doubles because a guy hadn't turned up…So I got to play with his partner and as it turns out, this girl that I'm playing with was basically the best player in the tournament…Oh, wow. She was bloody good. And because any pair that got to the final, then got invited to county trials”

County badminton was an eye-opener for Anthony.

“I just got battered by every single person there”.

But instead of putting him off, it spurred him on.

“Most people would be really put off by that, whereas I was a complete opposite.”

Throughout the presentation. Throughout our chat over video call. Throughout all his elite sporting life, there’s one trait Anthony keeps coming back too: resilience.

Being thumped by county players fuelled that desire, built his resilience brick by brick, point by point.

It’s what you’ll see. Turned down by players, coaches, even best friends, he keeps coming back, resilient in the face of adversity.

Competing in World Championships, Olympics, becoming national champion and coaching the Polish and English national badminton players, being able to stick at it is what galvanises him.

“That's when I actually asked my dad to train me properly - and by the time I was 14, I got selected for the England team.”

Resilience isn’t the only mindset or skill he values, or those that have been fostered throughout his career, our chat brings up leadership, teamwork, goal setting, communication – but resilience seems to be the most important.

So, when I asked Anthony where that steadfast need to keep bouncing back came from. What started it all?

Well, the answers don’t lie in badminton or sport at all.

But in a poignant, sliding doors moment on Benidorm beach.

Benidorm, 1991

“We're looking out to sea, and the waves are pretty rough”.

Picture this. A family of four, giddy at the thought of spending a day at a Spanish beach.

Blazing sun. Refreshing sea.

Anthony was talking about a family holiday back in the nineties. Him, his Mum, Dad, sister. They’d decided to go to the beach for the day, and Anthony wanted to swim.

“It's boiling, you're on holiday in Spain, and I wanted to go in the water cause I was a kid that just can’t sit still”.

In their excited holiday haze they’d missed the warning flags for dangerous waters and Anthony and his mum waded in.

“Mum said that she would come in the water. Literally, as soon as we walked in, the sand, you could feel the sand pulling from underneath your feet”

You can tell this is an emotional story for Anthony, one that holds huge significance.

He takes a moment. Continues.

“It was just simply a case of what was going to be just a paddle and a mess about… basically being dragged out.”

Anthony’s mum wasn’t a strong swimmer, with crashing waves sending her unconscious.

“We were just being basically pulled further and further out. I would say we were at least 100 metres out, where the big waves were really smashing down, and she was being hit by everyone and then coming up, gasping for air.”

“The final one hit her so hard, she came up and she was unconscious.”

“I had to just react and fortunately, I'd done that life saving stuff in cubs and I knew what to do. So I got my hand under her chin… I went on my back, turned her over and just kicked as hard as I possibly could. And it is really weird because it went like a flash. We went so quick back into the shore”

Lifeguards resuscitated her on the beach and took Anthony’s mum to hospital, where she stayed for 7 days, making a full recovery.

“I didn't think loads about it at the time, it was just a thing you do because there's no choice.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this story.

I’ve also heard it during the presentation where each and every listener was gripped. This wasn’t a former elite athlete anymore, this was a son swimming for his mum’s life.

From the thumping of shuttlecocks on a wall to silence, it’s a story most can resonate with.

For the most part, everyone has a mum.

Everyone understands the impact losing them would have, especially at such an early, formative age.

“We were dead lucky. I remember going into the room, and Mum was awake, and she was just in floods of tears.”

“It's my mum of course… goes without saying that I was going to do that, so I do think that whole experience not just taught me about resilience, but it's also made me think a lot about trying to make the right choices.”

Looking back on these moments you realise how instrumental, how life-altering they are.

Without his mum, Anthony doesn’t have the emotional support to lean on for badminton and more practically, he doesn’t have anyone to actually drive him up and down the country to train and play.

“If my mum wasn't here, I honestly don't think my badminton career would have gone like it has.”

And without his mum, there would have been no double national champion at 18 or no trips around the world, like Poland or Holland.

And definitely not China.

Game, Set…Asia!

“We were staying in really basic, pretty rough accommodation… the cockroaches and mosquitoes were everywhere - one of the girls even had a snake come out of the bathtub.”

In the badminton world the best players come from Asia.

It’s a fact the UK and the rest of the world accept.

They train for up to 7 hours a day, with players forgoing traditional western school timetables and focusing on the sport.

Everything else is curated to sit around hitting that shuttlecock.

Everything is about becoming the best.

And the best players, in the 90s, usually came from China.

“We didn't go to school. We were just there to try and play.”

Anthony recalls a total culture shock, with the food, the way Chinese players trained, and how British players matched up to them in dedication, skill, and ranking placement.

“It was way more than just playing and seeing the best players. It was the whole lifestyle that they live under was just so different.”

“I actually got to see a lad play in the tournament that went on to be world number one - he was a country mile better than any of the European players that were there.”

Seeing this didn’t scare Anthony, it didn’t put him off.

The opposite in fact. It was a springboard that spurred him on. He’d train those 7-hour days. He’d remaster his routine to maximise his badminton opportunities.

He’d reach those dizzy heights reserved for elite athletes.

He’d build on a 2-year swing prior to this trip, that made him national champion and took him to his first international tournament in Holland, to become the very best badminton has to offer.

I suppose what he wouldn’t see is being dropped numerous times by doubles partners.

And one of them was his best friend.

Dropped, Dropped, Then Dropped Again

18. Post China visit. Anthony’s now the British national champion.

He’s on a platform to the World Championships and the Olympics as a doubles and mixed doubles partner.

“My goal was to be Olympic champion and world number one.”

Everything, on the surface, seems rosy.

However, probably the most challenging part of his career so far was just beginning. An era testing his resilience, his grit.

Those challenges came with a raft of rewards and recognition.

But also, there were moral dilemmas. Family conundrums. Friendly betrayals.

First, the highlights:

First European man to reach two doubles finals in the World Championships
Ranked 4th as a men’s doubles player, and 5th in the mixed
Played 106 times for England
7 Commonwealth medals
Competed at 2 Olympics
9 European medals

Through all this there was constant planning of the next step, understanding his goals and how he wanted to achieve them.

Usually this was in 4-year cycles to coincide with the Olympics.

“When you start looking at that planning…we start right at that level, and we go, right, so that's in four years' time. So by four years' time, we need to be better than that guy. So what does that look like right now? What's he doing? What are they doing? What sort of techniques, tactics, all manner of different things is that player or that pair doing?

And then it's the working back from it so we then know how to start”.

However, competing at an elite level presents elite challenges.

At one point, a coach kicked him out the programme because there simply wasn’t another court to play on.

When he wanted to coach at the end of his playing career (more on that later) he was dropped by Badminton England.

He was dropped by mixed doubles partners on more than one occasion, one of them being his best friend.

Brutal. But that’s badminton at the top.

But this spurred him on, determined to prove them wrong and to showcase the grit, the fire, the determination he had to succeed.

That wasn’t the most painful part, or the biggest dilemma he faced.

At 22 Anthony’s first child arrived and his second a few years later – and he was travelling the globe playing badminton.

What to do? Give up his badminton dream? If he continued, how would he see his children?

Well, he credits the support of close friends, coaches, and his partner, that inspired him to keep playing.

With open communication and strong leadership paving the way for him to succeed as a player and a parent.

“Yes there was an initial shock, however, my family have kept me going all through my career.”

His son now plays badminton at a high level, where his daughter has earned a law degree and solicitors qualification.

Coaching, Then COVID

“When I stopped playing, I heard that classic line of, ‘Don't worry about your future’. There's a job waiting for you”

A natural progression for any player after the body starts to slow, takes longer to recover – simply, you start to age – is to coach.

That was no different for Anthony.

Anthony wanted to pass on his experience, his knowledge, to a younger generation. He thought that would be with the English set-up, but it wasn’t to be.

A promise by the badminton hierarchy was as full of holes as a shuttlecock, and coaching placement after his playing finish never materialised.

Another setback. Another promised opportunity turning into a double fault.

Opportunities weren’t far away though, and at a more grassroots level, arguably where his coaching would make the biggest impact.

“I joined another company…delivering motivational speeches in primary schools”.

This is when Anthony’s skill for communicating and storytelling shines.

Whilst motivational speaking in schools up and down the UK, Nottingham University knocked on his door to head up their coaching department.

“The workshops made the biggest impact with students”

Using his communicative style, leading with example, and able to pass on elite level insights meant Anthony was always going to be valued.

Then, whilst on a volunteering coach programme for Badminton England at a Danish tournament, he got talking to the national Polish set-up.

They wanted him to coach them. He accepted.

What did it mean? It meant living in Poland whilst coaching their elite badminton offering.

The goal? To make the Olympics.

“I went on a trip with that programme to Denmark and that's where I got asked by the Polish guys that I used to compete against if I would like to go and coach them up and through to the Olympics.”

That meant setting plans each of his players could achieve, focusing on the small to make sure they make it to the big.

“They also asked me to coach education stuff for their coaches. I was the national coach, but I did junior camps and education courses and my Olympic players qualified for three pairs and a singles player for the Olympics in Rio.”

When they qualified for the competition who did they face but Great Britain. Facing players Anthony had been around for years.

“My pair and the British pair had a playoff in the last match of the group…I trained and played with them [the British pair], their parents were sitting behind me in the crowd…that was a bit surreal.”

He knew their games inside out.

Poland won.

And after coaching Poland to a personally historic victory over his home nation at the Olympics and being knocked back, effectively dropped by Badminton England for a coaching position after his playing career concluded, they called Anthony home.

“I then got asked to be the England coach.”

He coached in Badminton England for 8 years, through 2 Olympics, and maybe most significantly, through COVID.

“It was the mixed pair that I coached. I took a girl who hadn't played a lot of mix to top six in the world. They won the Thailand Open, they won the European games as well. They did some amazing things and then COVID hit and it was pretty much a bit of a disaster…”

COVID hit those relationships hard. Clear, open communication waned. Connection between coach and players fell apart.

“The reality is I think from that point things became a lot tougher… relationships became more challenged…I let them go on their [own] journey”

The Next Swing

During his time coaching Poland, there were spells as a badminton academy founder. One in Stoke, the other in Cambridge.

“Because the one thing I've always wanted to do was give the knowledge to the youngsters to allow them to go up to the highest levels.”

When Anthony’s commitments to Badminton England took focus, Stoke was passed on and Cambridge naturally came to an end.

Those, along with school coaching, had lit a fire.

A fire that burned bright.

When his time as England’s coach came to an end at the start of 2025, after coaching at the highest level for 8 years, it pressed Anthony to take stock and think where his journey would next take him.

“Something that I thrive on is trying to motivate others through my own journey so that they can hopefully go on and do the same. So, that's why I've gone down the road that I've gone down because that's where my passion lies.”

His entire career had instilled valuable skills like resilience, communication, leadership, goal-setting, planning, and teamwork.

Where could those skills best transfer and benefit people? – NEW END STARTS UNDER HERE

The answer? Corporate worlds and school classrooms.

To take everything he’d learned from Olympic sport and use it to inspire others, giving kids and colleagues the skills to excel.

That’s how Clark Elite Performance was born.

Anthony now delivers two powerful programmes where no badminton experience is needed: Corporate Team-Building Experiences and Motivational School Days. Both are built on the same principles that defined his sporting career. Communication, clarity, and resilience.

For businesses, sessions focus on helping teams perform under pressure, communicate with purpose, and lead with confidence. Using badminton as a vehicle for connection, these interactive experiences are practical, energising, and designed to strengthen team dynamics.

Whether it’s a two-hour workshop or an overnight event, every group leaves stronger, more aligned, and ready to perform.

In schools, his Motivational Days bring world-class lessons into the classroom.

Through assemblies, masterclasses, and workshops, Anthony shares the key principles that shaped his journey, inspiring young people to believe in themselves and understand what real success looks like.

“My goal is simple,” he says. “To help people reach their potential. Whether that’s a boardroom team or a hall full of students, I want them to leave believing they can achieve more than they thought possible.”

Discover Clark Elite Performance here: https://www.clarkeliteperformance.co.uk/corporate-package

The-Missing-Muscle-In-Sports

Mon, 01 Sep 2025 09:26:50 GMT

The Missing Muscle in Sport

We train the body and the skills, but ignore the mind. Yet mentality makes up a huge percentage of an athlete’s success.

I know not everyone in this world wants to be a top-level athlete. But for those who do, this is my view of what having the right mentality really looks like.

Mental training or having a mentor is seriously overlooked by parents, players and coaches. Everyone knows the importance of physical preparation, but very few give the same attention to developing mentality.

Here is how I see it. A top-level athlete, in my view, is made up of three equal parts:

• 33.3% technical skill which is the shots, the techniques, the skills you learn.

• 33.3% physicality which is what your body is capable of doing through strength, speed and endurance.

• 33.3% mentality which is how your mind works under pressure, how you make choices and how you cope with setbacks.

These numbers are not based on hard science. They are simply my opinion formed through 30 years of competing and coaching at the highest level. For me, the point is simple. Mentality is every bit as important as technique and physicality, yet it is too often ignored.

The brain is no different to any other muscle. It needs training. You cannot just expect it to get stronger on its own. Just like the gym builds the body, psychologists, mentors and consistent mental work build the mind.

For me, having a good mentality starts with openness. An open mindset accepts the good and the bad. It accepts when you are right, when you are wrong and when somebody else knows more. Acceptance is the key, because it allows you to make the right choices for yourself, even when those choices are tough and uncomfortable.

Sacrifices and Stretch Goals

I left school at 16 to follow my dream of becoming one of the best badminton players in the world. I left my school friends behind and back then there was no Facebook or Instagram to keep in touch. My goal was clear: to be world number one and Olympic champion. I did not achieve either of those things, but they were always the driving force.

My mindset was simple. If I was willing to work harder than anyone else and if my skill set allowed me to compete at that level, then why could it not be me? The world number one or Olympic champion is only human. They may have skill, strength, talent and fitness, but what separates them most of all is an unbelievable mindset. If I was willing to do the same, why could I not reach those heights too?

In the end, I reached world number four in men’s doubles and world number five in mixed doubles. I made the Olympic quarter-finals in Athens. I did not hit my ultimate goals, but in striving for them I achieved some incredible results along the way. I also had the privilege of beating Olympic champions on several occasions and defeating world number ones many times. I say that humbly, because it shows what is possible when you consistently push for the very highest standards, even if you never quite touch the summit.

That is the power of setting goals that feel just out of reach.

Focus Over Friendship

Leaving friends behind was part of the sacrifice. Even once I had built new friendships within the badminton world, I still had to remind myself what I was really there for.

Sport is social and of course you will build friendships in training. But ask yourself: are you there to be liked, or are you there to be the best?

Good mentality enjoys the environment but knows when to step back, focus and work. That might mean taking a few minutes before a session to visualise your goals, then reviewing your performance afterwards. This is not being antisocial. It is being professional.

Tough Goals Beat Safe Goals

Most athletes avoid setting truly tough goals. They prefer ones they know they can achieve because then they do not have to face the F-word: failure.

But a good mentality embraces stretch goals. It accepts that failure is part of growth, not a sign to give up.

It also knows how to control emotions. Sometimes you need to stay calm, other times you need to get fired up. You might need to slow the pace of a game or speed it up. Even gamesmanship, used within the rules, has its place when applied with the right intent and timing.

Win the Day Before You Play

Athletes with strong mentalities set clear intentions every single day. Not just for big competitions, but for every training session.

Yet I have seen plenty of players turn up, warm up, train hard and leave without ever asking themselves what they wanted to achieve that day.

They treat training like a box to tick, not a step towards a goal.

A good mentality recognises that the work does not end when you put the racket, ball or trainers away. You are preparing for tomorrow through recovery, sleep, nutrition and reflection. All of it matters.

And here is a truth too many ignore: people love to make excuses. Excuses are the easiest way out. But the very best set their own standards, they live by them, and they never allow themselves to dip below the line they have drawn. That level of accountability is what separates champions from nearly men and women.

Excuses Kill Growth

I have seen plenty of bad mentalities over the years:

• Rolling into training after playing Xbox half the night

• Skipping breakfast because you woke up late

• Strolling in last like it is a joke

• Blaming everyone and everything when things go wrong, the coach, the conditions, the partner, never yourself

The best athletes do not make excuses. They own mistakes and make sure they do not happen again. They understand that acceptance is not weakness. It is the foundation of improvement.

And if your favourite sentence starts with “Yes, but…” stop. It is the fastest way to make a coach stop giving you advice. Why? Because it tells them you are not listening, you are just defending.

Be the Sponge, Not the Rock

Over 30 years of competing and coaching at the top level, one lesson stands out: do not be a know-it-all. No one knows everything.

Good mentality is like a sponge. It absorbs information, asks questions and then decides what to apply. Bad mentality is like a rock. It is closed off, deflecting every bit of input.

If a coach is still giving you feedback, it means they believe in you. If they stop, it is rarely about your talent. It is about your mentality.

Growth Lives Outside Your Comfort Zone

The best players are honest about their strengths and weaknesses. They accept them and then actively work to change what needs changing.

That means not waiting for a coach to fix everything for you. It means putting in the work and sometimes taking a step back technically or tactically to move forward long-term.

Visualisation is one of the most underused tools here. Top athletes replay the right actions in their mind just as much as they perform them physically. You might hit 1000 shots in a session, but if you also visualise those shots later, you multiply the benefit.

Control the Controllables

One of the best lessons I ever learned is simple: control the controllables. Focus on what is within your power, your preparation, your effort, your reactions.

Chasing things outside your control is a fast track to frustration and underperformance.

And this is where temperament matters most. Matches are not won by those who lose control when things go wrong. They are won by the athletes who can stay calm, clear their mind and stick to the plan even under pressure.

I have always loved the saying: “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” It captures the essence of temperament. The tougher the circumstances, the more important it is to keep your emotions under control and keep your head in the game.

Final Word:

A strong mentality is built on acceptance, ownership and the willingness to stretch yourself beyond what feels comfortable. It listens, it learns, it adapts.

Technical skill and physical ability will make you a strong athlete. Mentality is what makes you a winning one.

Striving for Excellence: What it really takes

Mon, 04 Aug 2025 08:46:04 GMT

Striving For Excellence: What it really takes

Too many people confuse striving for excellence with playing your best, feeling fresh, or hitting clean winners. But those “golden racket days” are rare. You don’t build greatness on your best days. You build it on the ones where everything feels heavy, nothing is clicking, and the only thing you’ve got left is the decision to keep going.

Excellence doesn’t wait for motivation.

Striving for excellence is doing everything correctly, especially when you don’t feel like it. That’s not theory. That’s lived experience. I’ve seen it in athletes who consistently got up hours before training to prepare properly. Not just to beat traffic, but to shower, fuel properly, stretch, and make sure their body was fully ready for work. They knew that if you just roll out of bed and stroll into training, the session will reflect that. Poor breakfast, poor focus, poor output. And that adds up. Every single day.

Excellence prepares for pressure.

I’ve worked with athletes who told me they couldn’t possibly train with the focus, emotions and stress like they face in tournaments. It was too emotional. Too draining. But this is exactly what they needed to have been doing. I guess the reality of thinking you know what it takes to get to the top and the actual reality are far apart. Striving for excellence means building a mental habit of going there every single day. Repeatedly placing yourself in the same emotional space as competition, so when pressure comes, it’s familiar, not foreign. That doesn’t make it easy, but it makes it survivable.

Excellence embraces suffering.

One summer, our S&C coach made us do the bleep test three times back-to-back, with ten-minute breaks in between. Not to test fitness, although of course that was part of it, in fact it’s the fittest I have ever been. But to test how we handled the suffering.

My coaches were willing to experiment in the pursuit of excellence. We understood that physical training alone wasn’t enough. We had to replicate the stress, the anxiety, and the emotional pressure that occurs in competition. Because if you don’t train with those feelings, they’ll overwhelm you when it matters most.

That’s why we pushed the boundaries. We wore 10kg weight vests and did 30 sets of 30-second shadow badminton at maximum intensity, then followed it with 90 minutes of single shuttle routines. It wasn’t designed to be comfortable. That wasn’t the point. The point was to simulate pressure, fatigue, and emotional strain and then learn how to stay composed and deliver anyway.

Excellence goes full tilt from the first hit.

Striving for success isn’t about settling into the day, finding your groove, and then going hard at the end to impress your coach. If that’s your plan, you’ve already missed the point. You can’t walk into training like a warm-up act and expect to leave like a headline performer.

Striving for excellence is about going full tilt from the first hit, throw, action, or word of the day. And then holding that all-in approach for as long as you possibly can.

No matter what the session is, you have to give it everything you have. Cruising along when you’re tired or deciding to sack it off because you feel drained just shows weakness. If you’re truly aiming for the top, you must go 100 percent of what you have. Even when you know you don’t have much left in the tank. That kind of commitment separates those who talk about excellence from those who live it.

Excellence has no off switch.

If you are serious, you cannot afford to coast. You cannot just turn it on during tournaments, especially against opponents better than yourself. Excellence has no off switch, and if you are truly committed, you would not want one.

“If you only go hard when eyes are on you, you’re not chasing excellence — you’re chasing approval.”

I have gone swimming on rest days. I have trained through pain. I have made sacrifices that most people never see, not for attention, not for praise, but because the goal demanded it. I know other players who lived the same way, not just showing up, but showing up prepared, sharp, and obsessed with progress.

Excellence became about more than me. As an athlete, I lived 70 miles from the National Centre. I got married at 22, and by the time I was 25, I had two kids. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about me anymore. I had something bigger to fight for, something I refused to let down. That’s why I arrived 45 minutes before every session to train on my own before the actual training began. That’s why I spent evenings doing wrist training, shoulder rehab, cycling with friends, or swimming on days off. I simply became obsessed with trying to improve. Effort would never be the reason I didn’t make it to the top.

Excellence breaks you and rebuilds you.

When you’re pushing yourself to the absolute limit from the first shot, trying to see how far you can go before you eventually crumble, you will hit breaking points. That’s not weakness. That’s human. No one can go full throttle, every minute of every day, without hitting the wall.

For me, those days usually came on a Wednesday. My partners and I called them Black Wednesdays. You’d drag your body through the day wondering how you’d make it to Friday. But when you train like this, when you drive for excellence every single day, something powerful happens. Those Black Wednesdays become fewer and fewer. Recovery becomes quicker. You build the capacity to bounce back faster. And that’s what striving for excellence really gives you. Not perfection, but resilience.

Striving for excellence is a choice, one you make long before the spotlight ever finds you. It is built in the early mornings, the lonely sessions, the moments no one else sees. It is built when you say yes to the hard thing, again and again, because deep down you know it will take everything. But that is exactly what makes it worth chasing.

Excellence is not for the lucky. It is for the relentless. And if you are willing to keep showing up, to keep raising your standards, and to keep believing that more is possible, then you are already on the path. Stay there.

Reflections on Decades in Elite Sport: The Power of Communication

Fri, 18 Jul 2025 14:05:21 GMT

Reflections on Decades in Elite Sport: The Power of Communication

After stepping away from the professional game at the end of January, I’ve had time to properly reflect on what truly drives success at the highest level.

It’s not just talent. It’s not just work ethic. It’s communication.

When I turned pro at 18, the pathway felt simple. Turn up. Train. Go home. Repeat. Communication was transactional. Someone told you what to do, and you did it. There was a clear hierarchy, and you were part of a system. That worked for a while.

But as life evolved. Getting married at 22, becoming a dad at 23. I started to realise how critical communication was. Not just in relationships at home, but in performance, trust, and progress on court. My wife used to say, “Make sure you talk to people. Find out everything you can.” That stuck with me. From that point on, I stopped viewing communication as instructions and started seeing it as connection.

I made it a habit to have lunch with my coaches, grab coffee, get to know them beyond the badminton court. I didn’t just want to know what they thought. I wanted to understand who they were. Those conversations created real trust. That trust built better feedback. And that feedback made me better.

Some of my early coaches didn’t speak much English. But their intent, body language, and presence said more than words ever could. One, in particular, taught me about discipline, hard work, and sacrifice without saying much at all. He showed me that communication doesn’t have to be verbal, it has to be consistent, meaningful and felt.

Over time, the coaches I trusted the most became part of my life. They involved my family. They understood that to get the best out of me on court, they had to make sure things were steady off it. That level of care is communication. It’s not part of the job description, but it’s the part that makes all the difference.

The very best coaches I worked with mastered the art of small, daily communication. They didn’t overload. They dropped in the right message at the right moment. Week after week, they empowered me with knowledge until I could take ownership of my own decisions. Eventually, I didn’t need constant technical input. What I needed was perspective, clarity, and sometimes just a space to think. That’s high-level communication.

But the truth is, I didn’t fully understand the power of communication until I left the athlete bubble. When you’re in it, everything’s go-go-go. You don’t pause to notice the conversations that made the difference, or the moments someone really got through to you. It’s only when you step away that you realise how vital those moments were.

When I transitioned into coaching, first as Poland’s Olympic coach and then as England’s national coach. I saw the full spectrum of communication challenges.

Early in my coaching career, I saw the power of a strong team culture. Communication wasn’t just top-down. It moved across the group. Senior athletes reinforced key messages, supported younger teammates, and created a sense of shared responsibility. If I introduced something in training, it echoed through the team because everyone played a role in carrying the message.

Later, at the elite level, I encountered a very different environment. These athletes were world-class. Driven, focused, and often highly individual. Communication became a daily balancing act. Some wanted complete autonomy. Others needed clear, step-by-step guidance. Some pushed back when questioned; others needed to be challenged to open up. There was no universal approach. You had to read the moment, read the person, and adapt your delivery. Not just to the athlete, but to the context they were in.

It taught me that being a good communicator is about them, not you. You don’t communicate to tick a box. You do it to connect, to challenge, to support. If you get it wrong, you lose trust. Once that’s gone, performance suffers.

I carried those lessons into my work outside elite sport into schools, universities, and coaching younger players. I trained in mentoring and communication techniques. I learned that the most powerful shift comes when you stop telling, and start asking. When you create a space where someone can explore their own answers, not just take yours.

And the irony is, the better you become at this, the more “redundant” you become. That’s the point. The best coaches, communicators, and mentors don’t need to do everything. They guide from the shadows. They make themselves unnecessary! because they’ve empowered the individual to think, to adapt, and to own their development.

Of course, not every athlete wants that. Some don’t want to reflect. Some don’t want to be questioned. They believe they’ve got it covered. That’s where communication becomes hard work. But you still have to show up. Keep offering. Keep listening. Because you never know when the right message might land.

I’ve always been told be a sponge. Take in every bit of advice you can. And talk. Talk to your coach. Your teammates. Your family. Communication is never one-way. It has to be built on mutual understanding, clarity, and a shared sense of purpose. Only then can people perform under pressure and thrive when it really matters.

So, if I’ve learned anything in 29 years, it’s this: communication isn’t a soft skill. It’s not a luxury. It’s the engine that drives performance, trust, and ultimately, success.

And we all need to get better at it.

The Real Game of Leadership: What the Best Do, and What the Rest Teach You

Fri, 18 Jul 2025 14:05:21 GMT

The Real Game of Leadership: What the Best Do, and What the Rest Teach You

After 29 years in elite sport, I’ve learned that leadership isn’t about status. It’s about responsibility.

I’ve seen outstanding leaders shape cultures, lift people, and drive success. I’ve also seen others cause damage through ego, insecurity, or by trying to look the part instead of living it.

I don’t write this from a place of perfection. I’ve made mistakes. But I’ve always cared, and I’ve never stopped learning. What follows are the leadership lessons that have stuck with me, and the behaviours I now recognise as red flags.

Where It All Started

My first examples of leadership came from home. My parents led through quiet strength. No fuss. No pressure. Just steady support. It stuck.

School was different. Some teachers were brutal, but they cared. Discipline was non-negotiable. You knew where the line was, and you didn’t cross it. That gave me structure, clarity, and a standard to live up to.

By the time I reached elite sport, I was ready. Six hours a day, five days a week. No shortcuts. Just honest work.

Not everyone made that leap easily. But that’s where real leadership counts. It’s not about treating everyone the same. It’s about helping each person find their feet and figure out how to give their best.

Clarity Isn’t Cruel

If standards are vague or only applied to a few, trust breaks down and performance suffers. But when expectations are clear, consistent, and lived by everyone, teams thrive.

This isn’t about control. It’s about fairness. In the best environments, people hold each other to high standards. They take pride in it.

Athletes notice everything. If leaders cut corners or shift the goalposts, people stop buying in. The best leaders live the standards they expect from others. That’s how belief is built.

Leadership Is Hard Work

There is no perfect method. What lifts one person might crush another. Some need directness. Others need time and patience.

No matter what you do, someone will think you’re too tough or too soft. Too involved or too distant. But leadership isn’t about being liked. It’s about being what the moment needs, and being willing to adjust.

If leadership feels easy, you’re probably not doing it right.

The Art of Saying Yes and No

I’ve worked under both extremes.

One boss said no to everything. You’d bring an idea and be met with silence, as if it was your job to explain it again and again. It chipped away at your confidence. You knew where you stood, but the price was growth and trust.

Another said yes to everything. It felt energising at first. Ideas flowed. But over time, things fell apart. Promises were broken. Budgets collapsed. Trust disappeared.

Strong leadership doesn’t live at either end. It takes courage to say yes when it matters, and strength to say no when it’s the right thing to do. Most of all, it takes honesty about what’s realistic.

Resilience: Your Best Friend

Fri, 18 Jul 2025 14:05:20 GMT

Resilience: Your Best Friend

There’s a word we throw around too casually in sport. A word that, when truly understood, will change how you approach training, competition, failure, and even life:

Resilience.

Not the Instagram version. Not the slogan on a T-shirt.

I mean real, tested, earned resilience the kind that becomes your best friend when it matters most.

Why Resilience Matters

I’ve worked across the game: player, national coach, mentor, and now founder of Clark Elite Performance.

Through every chapter, the one constant I’ve seen in every successful person, whether they win gold medals or build incredible businesses, is this:

When others fold, they keep going. That’s resilience.

You don’t get to the top by coasting. You get there by rising after rejection. By training harder after being dropped. By confronting the things that scare you and doing them anyway.

My Wake-Up Call in China

When I was 16, I was invited to China for a three-week training tour.

What I saw there changed me.

Day after day, session after session the training was ruthless. No excuses. No shortcuts. These weren’t just young players learning the game. They were becoming the next generation of World champions.

Some of the European players were shocked. I wasn’t. I was inspired.

That trip didn’t intimidate me, it lit something in me.

I thought: If this is what it takes to be world class, then I’m in.

That was my first real taste of what resilience looks like in its rawest form. And I knew I wanted to build it for myself.

Brutal Beginnings in Milton Keynes

Not long after, I began full-time training at the National Badminton Centre in Milton Keynes. It was six hours a day. Running, court, gym. Repeated every day with relentless standards.