What a Bunch of Kids Can Teach Us About High-Performing Teams

This year, my daughter was a ball girl at the Australian Open. That means she spent weeks perfecting the art of standing in the right place, not getting hit by 200km/h serves, and rolling tennis balls with military precision.

As a Ballkid Parent™, my tournament experience was slightly different from yours. While you watched Jannik Sinner annihilate yet another hopeful, I was fixated on the six miniature logistics experts zipping around the court, orchestrating a system more complex than most corporate workflows. I noticed a few things:

Roles and Responsibilities Were Crystal Clear. 

Everyone knew their job. Net kids stayed at the net. Baseline kids stayed at the baseline. No one wandered around asking, “Hey, what should I be doing?” No one created a subcommittee to discuss optimal ball distribution.

Non-Verbal Communication Was Next-Level.

A nod. A hand signal. The silent, unspoken agreement that things were under control. If only office meetings were this efficient—imagine a world where your boss nods, immediately granting you the autonomy to do your job instead of sending a 7-paragraph email.

Real-Time Coaching Was Constant.

Team leaders weren’t lurking around waiting to conduct their annual performance reviews. They gave instant feedback: “Try rolling the ball this way.” “Keep your head up.” “Don’t get run over by a player diving for a volley.” Immediate feedback, immediate improvement.

They Actually Supported Each Other.

If one kid missed a ball, another instinctively covered for them. There was no blame, no CC-ing on an email about “missed opportunities for efficiency, " just quiet, seamless teamwork.

There Were Clear Incentives.

Every day, a few lucky ball kids got promoted to a ‘show court’—the Wimbledon equivalent of a corner office—no confusion about career progression. You perform well; you get a shot at the big courts. Simple.

But here’s the kicker: fewer ball kids were needed as the tournament progressed. Some made it to the finals. Others didn’t. My daughter wasn’t in the final cut, but instead of sulking, she was genuinely thrilled for those who were.

She’ll do it all again next year, and apparently, she’s got her eyes set on those finals.

Do I care if she makes it? Not really. What I care about is this:

- She had a vision to make the squad and worked hard to make it happen.

- She made new friends.

- She learned to work in a high-pressure team.

- She took feedback without taking it personally.

- She figured out how to advocate for herself when she needed a break (fainting on court is, apparently, a thing).

What struck me most is that these kids, without corporate jargon or leadership off-sites, managed to embody everything we say we want in a high-performing team. They had clear roles, real-time feedback, mutual support, and a shared goal.

So, here’s to the Ballkids: proof that teamwork, when done right, looks like magic.