When a Smile Isn’t Defiance: Understanding Neurodivergent Coping Mechanisms in Sport

There’s this moment I see happen all the time in youth sports. A coach gives a correction—maybe it’s about footwork, focus, or effort—and instead of a serious nod of understanding, the athlete… smiles. Maybe they chuckle, or they do a little dance. And then it happens: The coach’s expression shifts. The arms cross. The brows furrow. And the dreaded phrase comes out:

“Are you not taking this seriously?”

Oh, but they are. They’re just not showing it the way you expect.

The Misinterpretation Trap

Here’s the thing—many neurodivergent athletes (those with ADHD, autism, anxiety, or other neurological differences) process stress, focus, and emotional regulation differently than neurotypical athletes. Their reactions to high-pressure moments or corrections don’t always fit the standard script of furrowed brows and deep nods of understanding.

Smiling? That’s not defiance. That’s a regulation mechanism.
Laughing? That’s an attempt to mask discomfort or diffuse tension.
Dancing, fidgeting, or humming? That’s self-stimulation to stay engaged.

But to the untrained eye, these behaviors can look like disinterest, disrespect, or even insubordination.

Why Neurodivergent Athletes Do This

Neurodivergent brains operate on different wavelengths when it comes to emotional regulation, focus, and sensory processing. Here are a few key reasons why you might see these behaviors in practice:

• Masking & Social Survival: Many neurodivergent individuals have learned that their natural responses to stress (like freezing up or avoiding eye contact) aren’t socially “acceptable.” Smiling or joking is often their way of fitting in and softening potentially negative interactions.
• Fight, Flight… or Fun? The nervous system has a variety of responses to stress, and for some athletes, humor and playfulness are legitimate coping strategies. They’re not trying to be difficult; they’re trying to keep from shutting down.
• Sensory Overload Management: Movement (like fidgeting or dancing) helps some athletes regulate their nervous systems. If a drill is stressful, adding motion may actually help them engage rather than disengage.
• Processing Delays & Time Needs: Some neurodivergent athletes need a few extra moments to process a correction. A laugh or joke might be a way to stall while their brain catches up.

What Coaches Get Wrong

The biggest mistake a coach can make? Assuming intent.

When a player responds to feedback with a grin or a joke, a coach might assume:

• They don’t respect me.
• They aren’t taking this seriously.
• They’re trying to push my buttons.

When in reality, the athlete is probably thinking:

• I don’t know what else to do right now.
• I hope they don’t think I’m upset.
• I need to move through this moment so I don’t get overwhelmed.

And here’s the kicker—if a coach interprets these behaviors as disrespect and comes down hard on the athlete, they’re not teaching discipline. They’re shutting down a coping mechanism and increasing stress. And when stress rises too high, learning stops.

How Coaches Can Adapt

So, what can you do to avoid misinterpreting an athlete’s natural regulation strategies as defiance?

1. Pause Before Reacting – Instead of immediately assuming intent, take a breath. Ask yourself: Is this athlete really being disrespectful, or could this be their way of processing?
2. Separate Focus From Stillness – Just because an athlete isn’t standing rigidly still doesn’t mean they’re not engaged. Some kids listen best when moving. Instead of demanding stillness, try saying, “You can move, but keep your eyes on me while I explain.”
3. Ask Instead of Assume – If you’re unsure about an athlete’s response, ask! “Hey, when you smile after I give feedback, what’s going through your head?” You’d be surprised how many kids will give you an honest answer.
4. Reframe Your Expectations – Neurodivergent athletes may not always respond with traditional “serious” body language, but that doesn’t mean they don’t care. Look for engagement in other ways—eye contact (or effort toward it), body positioning, or willingness to try again.
5. Provide Alternative Outlets – If you notice a player struggling to regulate, offer them tools instead of reprimands. Let them squeeze a stress ball while listening or give them a quick movement break. Small adjustments can make a big difference.

A Shift in Perspective

Imagine a world where coaches didn’t immediately assume the worst when a player smiled at the wrong time. Imagine if, instead of demanding “proper” reactions, we learned to decode the language of neurodivergent athletes and met them where they are.

Because at the end of the day, coaching is about connection. And connection doesn’t happen when we demand conformity—it happens when we seek understanding.

So, the next time an athlete grins after a correction or breaks into a little dance between drills, take a second. Don’t see defiance. See a kid doing their best to stay in the game, in the way that makes sense to them.

And that? That deserves coaching, not correction.

That’s it for today! Remember. OneDayOne. It is either Day One or One Day. Always your choice.

And of course… #DontSuck

The post When a Smile Isn’t Defiance appeared first on Dan Mickle.

One of the challenges I face personally as I work my way through this doctoral program is the sheer amount of information to sort through and the need to hoard it all. The academic side is easy. I just use Endnote to save everything and tag it. The personal side is a bit more challenging. I want to keep every question I see posted on every platform, every story that a parent shares, and every piece of information that a student shares.  More importantly, I want to help as many as possible.  My Evernote is the home to that, and it is overflowing.  Despite all those challenges, they are not the most significant roadblocks I face daily.  My biggest challenge when trying to help a neurodivergent athlete or their family is the “yeah, but…”

I did not notice until I started documenting and tracking my interactions. To be clear, when I am working with an actual client, there is a ton of documentation. I am talking about the casual Facebook messages, tags, and IG messages I receive daily. In the last five instances, they all have had a “yeah, but…” attached to them.  Parents are seeking help for their players, but that request comes with conditions.  Unfortunately, a lot of times, those conditions that are part of the environment cause concern.  Working with neurodivergent players is often challenging because the player and the support system (parents, grandparents, teachers, coaches, etc.) haven’t educated themselves on the neurodivergent populations, research, and history.  I get that.  I understand that.  My concern is most with putting conditions and parameters in place for the help that was asked for.

For example, I recently received a message on Facebook asking for suggestions on how to help a player who was very anxious on the court.  The mom explained the entire situation and a brief history of the player’s journey to where she is now.  I explained that one of the biggest challenges in dealing with sports anxiety in any athlete, not just the neurodivergent, is that there can be many root causes.  For example, the player may be afraid to let their team down.  They may be fearful of the consequences their coach imposes for failure.  They may not want to embarrass their parents.  As soon as I began to talk about some of the steps that can be taken to help, the “yeah, but..” came out.  In this case, the parent only wanted to explore the connection between the player and the coach/team.  Every time the connection between the parent and the player was brought up, I was met with the following: “Yeah, but we support her and tell her that.  So, we are not the issue.”

I get it. It can be hard to think you are the cause of your child’s suffering. However, if we want to get to the root causes and help the athlete, we need to take deep and often very personal looks into ourselves. It is also not just the parents. I frequently hit the same roadblocks with coaches.  Their “yeah, but..” often looks like this: “Yeah, but I have an open door policy” or “Yeah, but the players know I am here to listen and support them.”  The problem with the coaches, much like the parents, is that they all want the focus to shift because it is uncomfortable.  It is uncomfortable to be questioned, it is painful to be “investigated,” and more importantly, it is uncomfortable to think about change.  Often, I find that what parents and coaches believe they are presenting is not how the individuals receive it.  The coach may say that they have an open door policy, but when the player needs them, there is an air of inconvenience or “bother the coach” due to body language or automatic responses like sighs or eye rolls.  Parents may say that they support their player but can be heard from the stands groaning or yelling when the player falls short at a skill.

If we truly want to help the neurodivergent player, we have to be willing to examine their full environment and act without condition.  The minute we let the “yeah, but..” in, we have lost the ability to look at situations that may be challenging the player.  Sometimes it is just as hard on those wanting to help their neurodivergent athlete/child as it is on the actual individual.  So before you seek help from the outside world, you have to ask yourself if you are ready to honestly look at the whole environment (including yourself) to help your athlete.  I would love to see the “yeah, but..” replaced with “OK, so how can I…”.

That’s it for this blog, remember…

#OneDayOne.  It is either One Day or Day One; you have the power to decide.

And as always #DontSuck

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