Learning to play hockey is a lot like learning how to talk
Gabriel Herrera 🇦🇷 from "Hockey en contexto" shares his insights about the natural method of learning
The natural method is a way of learning a language through exposure, listening, interaction, and context. Before we speak, we understand. Before we learn the rules, we play. Language is born from necessity, not from imposition.
Learning to play hockey is not so different from learning to speak. It might sound strange at first, but if you stop to think about it, there’s a deep connection between those two processes. Both are built from experience, meaningful repetition, trial and error, and the need to express oneself and to belong.
When a child learns to speak, no one hands them a grammar book or sits them down in front of a blackboard to study rules. The first thing they do is listen. They listen to adults talking to each other, they hear stories, songs, tones of voice. They receive language before they produce it. And when they finally start speaking, they do it with mistakes, with incomplete sentences, with made-up words. But that doesn’t stop us from celebrating their first words, repeating them lovingly, encouraging them to keep going.
Hear the language of the game first
With hockey—or any other sport—it should be quite similar. The player, especially in the early stages, first needs to hear the language of the game. And I don’t mean the coach’s instructions. I mean the “language of hockey”: speed, intention, rhythm, decision-making, the game itself. The player needs to be immersed in it, watch it, try it, make mistakes, try again. They need to explore before someone comes to explain everything. They need to live hockey, not just receive it.
That’s where the natural method comes in: a way of learning that respects the player’s pace, that doesn’t prioritize technique over understanding, that believes in exposure, interaction, and mistakes as vital parts of the process. An approach that doesn’t underestimate the player for not knowing, but invites them to discover for themselves. To build their own game.
Rethink coaching: experience before correction
This method moves away from the rigid molds we coaches often propose. It forces us to rethink our role. To stop being the ones who “give answers” and become the ones who “ask questions.”
To design rich, challenging environments with multiple options, where the player can choose, decide, fail, succeed—and through that, learn.
Just as a child doesn’t learn to speak by being constantly corrected, a player doesn’t learn to play by having the session stopped every ten seconds to point out what they did wrong. Correction has its place, of course. But it cannot come before the experience. Because before you speak well, you have to speak. And before you play well, you have to play. A lot.
One of the great pillars of the natural method is understanding before perfect production. In language, a child understands many more words than they can say. Their brain stores information, intentions, gestures. Over time, those begin to emerge as sentences. In hockey, something similar happens: a player often knows what they need to do before they’re able to do it well. And that’s okay. We need to respect that moment—that bridge between knowing and being able to.
Context, diverse stimuli & mistakes
Another key aspect is the value of context. People don’t learn random vocabulary without meaning. We learn words within situations that have significance to us. No one remembers word lists they can’t use. In hockey, it’s the same: isolated techniques or repeated movements without connection to the game have little impact if the player doesn’t understand their purpose. The pass, the trap, the reception, the dribble—these come to life when used in a context that makes them necessary. Not before.
And that brings us to another fundamental point: the diversity of stimuli. A child who only hears one voice, one way of speaking, one single linguistic context, limits their understanding of the language. The same happens with players: if they only face one type of drill, one way of playing, a single position or structure, they become specialists in one thing—but struggle to adapt to anything new. And the game, like life, is full of surprises. The natural method suggests opening up the range of experiences: playing different roles, facing varied problems, living multiple scenarios. Not to be good at everything, but to be ready for whatever comes.
Moreover, the natural method understands that mistakes are a fundamental part of the journey —not something to avoid, but a sign that something new is being learned. Mistakes are symptoms of exploration. And when we punish them or constantly highlight them, what we do is limit that curiosity. That’s why it’s so important to create environments where mistakes aren’t a sign of failure, but of opportunity. Where intention matters more than outcome. Where the one who tries—even if they fail—is the one who gets rewarded.
Joy
And of course, we can’t forget that learning improves when there’s joy. A child learns a language faster when they are playing, singing, laughing—when they feel safe. The same is true in hockey.
There’s no real progress without enjoyment, without joy, without an emotional connection to what they’re doing. If the player feels judged, watched, or forced, they shut down. If they feel free, valued, and part of the process, they open up. And in that openness, they grow.
Perhaps the hardest part for us, as coaches, is to let go of control. To trust that if the environment is rich, if the challenges are appropriate, if the player has room to express themselves, learning will happen naturally. Not because we impose it, but because they discover it. And that, in the end, is far more valuable.
The natural method is not a magic formula. It’s not easy to apply. It requires patience, observation, empathy, and a great deal of humility. But it is, without a doubt, a way of supporting players from a more human, more respectful, and more profound place.
Because hockey—like language—is a form of expression. A way to show who we are, how we think, what we feel. And when we understand that, we stop teaching techniques—we start teaching players to speak the language of hockey.
And to do that, we must be brave.
by Gabriel Herrera from Hockey en contexto