There is a temple in Japan that tells one of the most powerful stories about growth I have ever come across.
It has nothing to do with tennis.
It has nothing to do with sport.
And yet I believe every young tennis player should know it.
On the hills of Kyoto stands Otagi Nenbutsu-ji, a temple famous for more than 1,200 stone statues. Some are laughing. Some are making funny faces. One is holding a tennis racket. Another is carrying an old cassette player. Others are raising cups of sake as if celebrating together. At first glance, they look like the work of gifted artists. But the truth is far more surprising.
None of those statues was carved by a famous sculptor.
They were created by ordinary people.
Students.
Families.
Retirees.
Travellers.
People who, in most cases, had never held a chisel before.
The temple itself had endured centuries of disasters. Floods destroyed it. Fires damaged it. A typhoon nearly wiped it out again after it had already been relocated in an attempt to save it. By the time Kocho Nishimura became the temple’s head monk, he faced a familiar problem: a beautiful place falling apart, with very few resources to restore it. Most people expected him to hire the best artists, search for wealthy sponsors, and rebuild the temple through expert craftsmanship.
Instead, he made a completely different decision.
He opened the gates and, in essence, said:
“You come and carve it.”
Beginning in 1981, he invited ordinary visitors to create their own stone statue under his guidance. They weren’t professionals. They weren’t experienced. They certainly weren’t ready. Yet over the next ten years, more than 1,200 people filled the hillside with sculptures unlike anything anyone had ever seen.
Because they didn’t know how a statue was “supposed” to look, they all carved the only thing they truly possessed.
Themselves.
And somehow, those imperfect sculptures became one of Kyoto’s most beloved places.
When I first read this story, my thoughts immediately went to tennis.
Because every week I meet young players who are waiting for exactly the wrong thing.
They are waiting to feel ready.
They are waiting for their forehand to become more consistent.
They are waiting until they trust their serve.
They are waiting until they become mentally stronger.
They are waiting until confidence finally appears.
And while they wait…
They postpone tournaments.
They avoid stronger opponents.
They delay difficult challenges.
They postpone the very experiences that would allow them to grow.
The problem is that confidence almost never comes before experience.
It comes after it.
Confidence is not a requirement for growth.
It is one of its consequences.
Many young players imagine that professionals walk onto the court because they already feel confident.
The reality is often very different.
The greatest players compete while carrying doubts.
They compete when their timing feels slightly off.
They compete when they don’t feel physically perfect.
They compete without any guarantee that they will play well.
The difference is not that they feel ready.
The difference is that they stop waiting to feel ready.
That is exactly what saved the temple in Kyoto.
If Nishimura had waited until enough master sculptors appeared, the temple might never have been rebuilt.
Instead, he trusted people with no experience at all.
More importantly, he taught them something extraordinary.
They didn’t need to create the perfect statue.
They only needed to create their statue.
That may be one of the most valuable lessons in tennis as well.
Too many young players spend years trying to become copies of someone else.
They study Djokovic’s return.
They imitate Alcaraz’s intensity.
They copy Sinner’s forehand.
They repeat Swiatek’s routines.
They even celebrate points the same way their heroes do.
Learning from great champions is valuable.
Trying to become one of them is not.
The goal is not to become someone else’s version of success.
The goal is to discover your own.
Every great champion has learned from others.
None became great by remaining a copy.
Each of them eventually built an identity that belonged only to them.
That is exactly what happened on that hillside in Japan.
Nobody knew the “correct” way to carve a statue.
So everyone carved the only thing they truly had.
Themselves.
And that is precisely what made the collection unforgettable.
I believe the same principle applies to mental development in tennis.
You don’t have to wait until you feel confident.
You don’t have to wait until everything works perfectly.
You don’t have to wait until fear disappears.
Because tennis won’t wait.
Growth won’t wait.
Neither will your career.
AN EXERCISE I RECOMMEND TO EVERY YOUNG TENNIS PLAYER
Before your next practice session or your next match, write down one simple sentence.
“If I weren’t afraid of not being ready, what would I do today anyway?”
Then do it.
Do it even if you still have doubts.
Do it even if you’re afraid of making mistakes.
Do it even if you don’t feel completely prepared.
Because confidence is rarely built before action.
It is built because of action.
Perhaps that is the greatest lesson hidden on that small hillside in Kyoto.
The temple wasn’t waiting for experts.
It was waiting for people willing to begin.
And maybe your tennis isn’t waiting for you to become perfect either.
Maybe it’s simply waiting for you to stop postponing your own growth.
Federico Coppini
Mental Coach & Tennis Coach
Founder – Coppini Tennis Academy
🎾 https://www.coppinitennisacademy.com
🎾 TO GO DEEPER INTO THE MENTAL SIDE OF TENNIS
📘 Where You Look When You Play
https://www.patreon.com/posts/where-you-look-147983981
📗 Playing from the Inside
https://www.patreon.com/posts/playing-from-147595439
🎯 ONLINE LESSON: The 4 Levels of Match Stability Under Pressure
https://coppinifederico.thinkific.com/products/courses/4-levels-match-stability