In modern sports performance, the conversation around training has traditionally focused on what happens below the neck—leg drive, force production, rate of force development, and bar speed. However, a growing subset of high-level coaches is looking higher up the kinetic chain, focusing directly on how athletes process the visual world around them. In a recent discussion, renowned track coach Chris Korfist and football and performance specialist Dan Fichter sat down to explore the intricate role that vision plays in elite movement, breaking down concepts like saccades, visual inhibition, rhythm, and spatial tracking.
Rather than treating vision work as a magical, universal fix or a set of trendy eye exercises to be applied blindly across an entire roster, Korfist and Fichter emphasize a practical, evidence-based approach. The core message of their discussion is remarkably grounded: coaches must test an individual athlete’s specific response to any visual task and carefully account for the "cost" of that visual demand before introducing it into a training regimen. Joined by host Chris Kerr, the coaches examined how these visual principles manifest in the weight room, on the track, and across the football field.
Start With the Athlete’s Response
The discussion kicked off with an observation of high-profile athletes, specifically touching on NFL quarterback C.J. Stroud’s pregame eye movements, which have previously drawn public attention. When asked about how such visual behaviors translate to performance, Fichter drew a distinct line between vertical and horizontal saccades—rapid movements of the eyes between two or more phases of fixation. He stressed that the utility of any specific eye movement depends entirely on how an individual athlete responds to it during testing.
Fichter categorizes horizontal saccades primarily as a balance-oriented tool. For practitioners in the field, the immediate evaluation should not be whether a drill looks visually complex or advanced on social media, but whether it produces a tangible, positive shift in an athlete’s balance, foot contact mechanics, or subsequent movement patterns. Fichter offered a direct, cautionary note regarding the implementation of unverified visual drills: if a specific exercise does not work and fails to make the athlete better, coaches must recognize that the visual system is actually degrading the athlete’s movement quality rather than enhancing it.
To help ground these visual tasks, Fichter often pairs visual work with an external auditory rhythm. Referencing research on balance and horizontal saccades, he noted a baseline rate of 120 beats per minute, though he actively varies this tempo depending on the context of the practice session. The crucial distinction, according to Fichter, lies in the difference between an athlete generating their own internal cadence versus responding dynamically to an external cue in their environment. The 120 beats per minute metric serves as a specific reference point from existing research rather than a universal target that every athlete must hit during every visual task.
Visual Inhibition Is Part of Stopping
One of the more sophisticated concepts explored in the conversation is visual inhibition, particularly through the use of anti-saccades. In football and other multidirectional sports, athletes are constantly bombarded with visual stimuli. An anti-saccade drill requires an athlete to deliberately look away from a sudden visual cue rather than reflexively following it.
Fichter utilizes anti-saccades with football players to train this exact inhibitory response. He links the neurological demand of looking away from a stimulus directly to the cognitive and physical decisions an athlete must make when executing a sudden stop, deceleration, or change of direction on the field. The core training target, as Fichter describes it, is simply refining an athlete’s ability to inhibit what they instinctively want to look at.
For field and court coaches, this can be treated as a distinct perceptual demand. Practitioners can introduce the inhibitory task and then carefully observe whether improvements in visual control successfully transfer over to real-world scenarios where athletes must read and react to the movement of an opposing player.
Progress the Task Without Losing the Basics
Moving visual training from a controlled laboratory setting to the chaotic environment of a sports team requires careful progression. Fichter described a progression where athletes track a tennis ball suspended from a resistance band, which moves dynamically toward and away from them. This setup introduces significant postural and visual demands compared to sitting or standing statically on a bench, as the athlete must maintain balance while their eyes track a moving object across varying depths.
However, Fichter repeated a vital operational warning for coaches: you have to know the cost of the task. Introducing gait, dynamic posture, and moving targets places a heavy tax on the nervous system.
Chris Korfist approaches team implementation through a simpler, more pragmatic lens. Managing a larger group of track athletes, Korfist primarily watches for natural head and eye behavior during sprinting. He relies on basic movement resets for the group as a whole while pulling aside specific individuals who demonstrate a clear need for targeted, individualized attention.
Korfist applies this same philosophy of restraint within the weight room. While he occasionally utilizes specialized dribbling glasses that block an athlete’s lower visual field—forcing them to rely entirely on proprioception and feel where their feet are positioned—he emphasizes that this is strictly occasional work. With a large track cohort, shared tasks are kept fundamental, ensuring that any added visual complexity serves an observed, individual need rather than becoming just another mandatory drill that every athlete is forced to complete.
Keep Vision Work Brief and Individual
The potential for cognitive and physical fatigue is one of the most overlooked aspects of vision training. Korfist shared a cautionary personal anecdote regarding his own experimentation with prism lenses. He noted that when he first worked with a specialist, the initial exposure lasted only a few seconds. However, when Korfist attempted to push the boundaries on his own and extended his exposure to twenty minutes, he suffered severe adverse effects that required two weeks to recover from.
Fichter echoed these concerns, agreeing that eye work can be intensely fatiguing and must be progressed gradually over time. While Korfist’s prolonged exposure and subsequent recovery period represent a personal account rather than a formalized clinical estimate or a universal dosage rule, the underlying coaching principle remains universally applicable.
Both coaches emphasize that practitioners should begin conservatively, closely monitor the athlete’s immediate and delayed physical response, and avoid the temptation to turn a striking demonstration into a mandatory, standing team-wide prescription.
Ultimately, Korfist and Fichter’s discussion cuts through the noise of modern training fads. By prioritizing individual athletic response, understanding the neurological and physical cost of visual tasks, and respecting the limits of visual fatigue, coaches can integrate vision training as a precise, thoughtful tool rather than a superficial gimmick.
