The coaching that forgot it was a relationship

4

  min read
A long pale wall with a single faint shadow gradually fading toward the edge of the frame, photographed in flat diffused light.

Something has been hardening in the professional coaching and mentoring world. Not everywhere, not all at once, but visibly enough to name: the idea that there is a correct way to do this work, a right model, a sanctioned sequence, an authorized framework, and that deviation from it is a kind of error.

The institutional expression of this is familiar to anyone inside the field. Certifying bodies in quiet opposition to one another. Schools defending their methodologies with the same certainty they claim to be helping people move beyond. Practitioners trained to follow a process rather than meet a person. The guru who liberates, systematically.

The paradox is not subtle. Tools designed to free people from dependency on external answers are being packaged and transmitted in ways that create exactly that dependency, first in the practitioner, then in the person they work with.

What gets lost in the standardization is the thing that makes any of this work in the first place. Coaching, mentoring, supervision: these are practices that exist inside a relationship. They are born there, they develop there, they produce whatever they produce through what happens between two specific people in a specific moment. No model contains that. No certification validates it in advance. The relationship is not the delivery mechanism for the methodology. It is the point.

Standardizing a relationship is a contradiction that the field has learned to live with by not looking at it directly.

What actually functions, in practice, is something harder to teach and harder to credential: the capacity to find where the person is and move from there. Sometimes that means sharing a perspective directly, because the experience is missing, because the moment calls for it, because that is genuinely what would help right now. This is not a methodological failure. It is attentiveness. The problem is not the shared perspective. The problem is when sharing one's own view becomes habit, when the practitioner settles into the position of the one who has answers and the other person settles into expecting them. At that point the relationship stops being developmental and becomes something closer to a dependency with good branding.

The real objective, in any serious practice of this kind, is progressive invisibility.

Not absence. Not withholding. A presence that accompanies without substituting, that creates conditions rather than filling them. The practitioner starts from where the person is and moves, gradually, toward a point where the person no longer needs the practitioner to navigate what they could not navigate alone before.

This requires something that credentialing does not measure: a continuous and honest process of working on oneself. Knowing, at any given moment, why you are doing what you are doing. Whether you are sharing a perspective because it serves the person or because it is easier, more comfortable, more validating of your own position in the room. Whether your presence in the relationship is taking up space that should belong to the other person.

The best practitioners in this field are, in a sense, always working toward their own irrelevance. The quality of the work shows most clearly in what the person can do after, not in what happened during. The signature is in the result, not in the performance.

A coaching culture that trains practitioners to follow models is training them to remain visible, necessary, central. It is building professionals who are skilled at the method and uncertain about the relationship. Which is precisely the wrong place to be uncertain.


Copyright ©️ 2026 Matteo Martinuzzi | Coach, practitioner, occasional contrarian.