
I recently took a cardio tennis class, which is more about raising your heart rate than worrying about the fundamentals of the game. Being new to tennis and pretty challenged in any sport requiring hand-eye coordination, I decided this could be a nice way to begin playing. In one drill, the instructor alternated tossing the ball to either side of my body so I could both run my tail off and practice switching hand positions. First to my dominant left side—use forehand. Then to my right—use backhand. Then back to my left—forehand. Then right—backhand. Forehand. Backhand. Forehand. Backhand.
“You feel it, Sabrina? You’re getting into a rhythm.”
Yes! This was making sense. With the drill over, it was time for a little match to put our skills to the test. But as soon as the balls started coming at me, I felt like I was playing a completely different game. There was no rhythm. The balls came straight at me or landed in spots way too far to reach. I contorted my body in every possible awkward position in a desperate attempt to make some sort of contact between ball and racket. It was comical.
“Sabrina, tennis is about timing. You’re either guessing where the ball will land too early or moving to where the ball has gone too late. When the ball hits your opponent’s racket, that’s when you know where to go.”
I hadn’t even realized that I was playing the game that way. During the drill, I knew exactly where the ball was going to land, so I was there to hit it. But in the match, there was no set pattern, and I was responding at the wrong time. After the class, I kept thinking about this idea of timing—and not just in tennis, but in the work my team does every day. I co-lead a team of project managers in a transformation consultancy focused on solving problems that haven’t yet been identified and creating things that have yet to exist. It’s all about ambiguity.
As a result, my team must not only embrace but thrive in ambiguity. We are constantly adjusting our plans along with the pace of creativity, new client developments, and unforeseen changes to scope. It’s difficult to know what our next move should be when we feel like we have balls firing at us all the time. Sometimes, we try to get ahead of it, blindly guessing where the ball is going to travel well before it’s even been launched our way. At other times, we convince ourselves that we can’t begin to predict where the ball might come from or when it will land, so we stand motionless, waiting until that ball hits us squarely in the nose—or, worse yet, we miss it completely. How can we prevent being so far in front that we have no clue what direction to head, or so far behind that we are always playing catch-up?
Surprisingly, the same tips my instructor gave me on the court can help anyone who has to deal with ambiguity on the job:
Your response rate will continue to improve as you build up your experiences to draw from and your confidence at the same time, so that you are able to interpret and act on more subtle signals much earlier than before.
What tennis is teaching me is that there’s a reason I never played hand-eye sports—I really am pretty terrible. But I’m reminded that even in moments when I feel like the ball is flying at me at 100 miles an hour, I have the power to slow things down and not let ambiguity overwhelm me. It’s all about timing, knowing when I have just enough information to move in the right direction, one ball at a time.


