But these days, one of the main things I do is try to slow people down. There’s always another grand slam, another game or another tournament to play in.
Starting out in the early Nineties, elite sport was a different universe. Support staff were minimal, sports science barely existed and medical departments were a world apart from what you see today. But clubs these days employ entire teams of physios, sports scientists, analysts and sports medicine doctors. The scale is enormous – and their input isn’t just medical, it’s also financial.
Football clubs must ask themselves: “Are we about to invest £130 million in this athlete? Are they physically sound? Will they break down under the demands of the season?” Athletes aren’t just players any more, they are assets.
Every heartbeat, recovery cycle and mood fluctuation is monitored. Every decision is scrutinised. The physical and psychological expectations have skyrocketed. More fixtures, more travel, more intensity, repeated through seasons that barely have an off-switch. But when you’re working at that Ferrari level, athletes must have an ebb and flow. You can’t compete every week, pushing yourself to the limit constantly.
When you’re working at that Ferrari level, athletes must have an ebb and flow
In most sports, if you play well, you’ll play again. Take tennis, for example. If you want to be a top-ten contender on the ATP circuit, every player has to prepare over the whole year to go deep in a five-hour match in the grand slams. While most points are short, a handful of seconds per rally adds up. Tennis is so complex in that sense. The body uses both sprint and marathon energy systems.
But you could argue that it’s actually the mental load that has shifted more dramatically. These days, I see fewer characters. I see more tight, anxious athletes dealing with mental challenges alongside their physical ones. When I first started, there was so much more space and time to breathe without the world watching so intensely. Now? A microphone is shoved into an athlete’s face in the immediate aftermath of a match, constant analytics, the ever-increasing need for behind-the-scenes content, commercial obligations –athletes never get to step out of the spotlight. Often, the real fatigue isn’t muscular; it’s emotional.
When I work with elite athletes today, I see people who have been inside the system for decades. Using the tennis example again, some of these guys have been full-time professionals since they were eight or nine years old. That’s 20-plus years of full-time training, travelling and competing. It’s a staggering load, physically and mentally.
Despite the pressures, one of the great advances has been the sophistication of load management. We now monitor everything: sleep quality, muscle soreness, heart-rate variability, nutrition, strength outputs, GPS data – the list goes on. And all of it matters.
At 18, athletes can’t be thrown into the deep end the same way they once were –and the big clubs and organisations are starting to wake up to this. A sudden spike in the volume or intensity of the workload is the biggest predictor for an injury. Look at the way Chelsea have managed their South American teenager (and starboy) Estêvão Willian, for example. Despite being one of their most dangerous talents on the pitch this season, they’ve managed his load meticulously, gradually integrating him into the first team, rather than starting him in every game from the outset.
When I look at the next generation of athletes these days, I see too much specialisation. Too many kids are locked into a single sport at nine or ten years old, which I think can be a risk. Not because they aren’t talented, but because their bodies and minds aren’t built for that kind of narrow pressure so early.
Up to ages 14–16, I’ve always been an advocate for kids playing multiple sports. They should build movement literacy. Strength and conditioning should begin early, but with fundamentals, so things like bodyweight movements, box jumping, that kind of thing. Real gains in strength and robustness can take a decade, not weeks.
Fundamentally, sport is now part of a commercial machine that never stops whirring. Athletes are no longer just competitors; they’re personalities, content creators and global commodities. Fans want everything, from the cramping on court to the fly-on-the-wall documentaries. It’s entertainment.
But the irony is that for many of these athletes, their lives are far less glamorous than we assume. Even Jannik Sinner’s Gucci photoshoots feel a little transactional! The spotlight amplifies everything, both good and bad, and not everyone to thrive under that constant exposure. These guys are only human, after all, so let’s let them live a little. I promise, that’s when the magic happens.
Tennis star Carlos Alcaraz is one of the most heavily scrutinised athletes on the planet.
Mark Bender is a physio who has worked his magic on, among others, Andy Murray.
