ASCA World Clinic 2026: Small-Group Sessions with Gregg Troy – When Legends Sit Down, Not Stand on Stage

Orlando, early September. Rosen Centre Hotel. A small conference room, capacity under forty people. In the corner, a 70-year-old man with distinctive gray hair is flipping through lesson plans, no podium, no giant LED screen. That is Gregg Troy – the man who stood beside the Olympic pool in Rio 2026 as head coach of Team USA, the man who guided Ryan Lochte, Caeleb Dressel, and Katie Ledecky to the top of the world. Now, he sits down, facing a few dozen eager coaches. This moment is a complete contrast to the 20,000-seat arenas he once commanded. But perhaps, right here – in a small room in Orlando – the true value of coaching education is beginning to take shape. This is the final week before the 2026 ASCA World Clinic, America's largest swimming coaching conference, held September 9-12 in Orlando, Florida. With over 50 speakers and more than 60 educational sessions, this year's theme is "Grassroots to Podium: It Starts With Us." But what makes this year's event truly special is not just the scale – it's two pivotal factors: the introduction of three-hour small-group sessions with Herbie Behm and Gregg Troy, and more importantly – this is the last chance for coaches to earn ASCA certification before the entire certification system is redesigned on November 2. I have followed swimming for nearly fifteen years, from village pools in Vietnam to the Olympic stage. I have never seen a coaching education model dare to break the traditional conference mold as radically as ASCA is doing this year. Imagine: while most major conferences worldwide – from sports to education – still adhere to the model of one speaker on stage addressing hundreds, ASCA has chosen to completely invert it. They create small-group sessions, intentionally limit attendance, extend them to three hours instead of one, and make conversation the centerpiece rather than the lecture. This is not a minor format adjustment – this is a statement about educational philosophy. Look at the pairing of the two names chosen for the small-group sessions. Herbie Behm, the veteran coach at Bolles School in Jacksonville, Florida – one of the most prestigious youth development programs in America. Behm represents the foundation layer of the pyramid: coaching philosophy, training planning, building technical foundations for age-group swimmers. Gregg Troy – with decades of program-building at the University of Florida and the pinnacle of Olympic head coaching – represents the apex: program architecture, elite athlete management, long-term strategy. This pairing is not accidental. It covers the entire spectrum of the coaching profession – from micro (daily training design) to macro (entire program architecture). A young coach from a local club can learn from Behm how to build an effective practice, and from Troy how to see beyond a single season. But what truly makes me think – and this is the point I want to pause on – is the haunting silence surrounding the new certification system. ASCA announces that the certification system will be completely redesigned on November 2, and this clinic is the last chance to be certified under the old system. But not a single detail about the new system has been disclosed: what will the new fees be? What are the new requirements? Will coaches with existing certifications be grandfathered? This silence creates a troubling transparency gap. I have witnessed too many times in my career – from football to athletics – when organizations use the "last chance" tactic to drive revenue, without genuinely preparing for the transition. The question arises: if the new system is truly better, why not disclose the details to reassure everyone? If the new system is worse, why the silence? The urgency created by the "last chance" announcement may be a legitimate revenue tactic, but it could also be a sign of inadequate preparation. I recall a conversation with a young swimming coach in Hanoi, who shared that he learns almost everything through YouTube videos and cheap online courses. He has never had the opportunity to sit across from an Olympic-caliber coach in a small room, ask questions directly, and be truly heard. The gap between a coach in Orlando and a coach in Hanoi is not just geographic – it's a gap in access to knowledge. ASCA's small-group sessions, with their intentional limits on attendance, are an effort to bridge that gap for those fortunate enough to be present. But it also raises a larger question: how can this knowledge be scaled? A three-hour session with thirty coaches, no matter how valuable, only touches a tiny fraction of the global coaching community. One thing I have learned from covering major competitions for years: transition moments – whether generational shifts in athletes, changes in competition systems, or certification system overhauls – are always the most vulnerable periods. Athletes face uncertainty about the future, and so do coaches. The new ASCA certification system, no matter how well designed, will create short-term chaos: coaches with old certifications will worry about their credentials' value, new coaches will be confused about requirements, and clubs will hesitate on hiring standards. This chaos is inevitable. But how ASCA manages this transition – transparently or opaquely, fairly or biasedly – will shape community trust for years to come. I also want to examine another dimension: the partnership between ASCA and Fitter & Faster Swim Camps – this year's presenting sponsor. Fitter & Faster is an organization specializing in youth swim camps, with a wide-reaching network across America. This partnership creates a self-reinforcing ecosystem: ASCA provides certification prestige, Fitter & Faster provides grassroots reach. This is a smart business model, but it also raises questions about the independence of education. When an educational organization partners closely with a commercial camp operator, could the training content be influenced by commercial interests? I am not saying that is happening, but I have seen enough to know that the line between education and marketing can become fragile. Returning to the image of Gregg Troy sitting in that small room in Orlando. I have never met him, but I have watched hours of his interview footage, and I have written about the athletes he coached. One thing I notice about the greatest coaches: they never stop learning, and they never consider themselves too great to sit down and listen. Troy, at 70, still spends three hours sitting with a few dozen coaches, answering every question, diving into every detail. That is not a presentation – that is mentorship. And perhaps, that is exactly what ASCA is trying to build: a culture where knowledge is passed directly from one generation to the next, not through screens, not through books, but through face-to-face conversations. For Vietnamese swimming coaches, the lesson from ASCA World Clinic 2026 is not about being in Orlando or not. It lies in a larger question: how do we build a coaching education system with real depth? In Vietnam, we have talented coaches, we have promising athletes, but our coaching education system remains rudimentary. We rarely have the opportunity to sit down with masters, ask direct questions, and learn from their real-world experience. ASCA's small-group model – however limited in scale – is a reminder that authentic coaching education cannot rely solely on videos and books. It requires direct interaction, extended conversations, the patience of the teacher, and the curiosity of the learner. There is a phrase I often recall when writing about sports: "There are races not measured by the clock, but by the silence between two breaths." This year's ASCA clinic, with all its urgency, is like such a race. The real value lies not in the number of sessions, the number of speakers, or even the certification. The value lies in those moments when a young coach sits across from Gregg Troy, asks a question they have harbored for ten years, and receives an answer that could change the way they coach forever. That is the moment when the clock stops, and the story begins. As I write these lines, the clinic is one week away. The small room in Orlando will soon be filled with eager coaches, and Gregg Troy will sit down, as he has done thousands of times in his career, to pass on what he knows. I do not know whether ASCA's new certification system will be better or worse, whether the urgency of the "last chance" is truly necessary or not. But I know one thing: what happens in that small room – the conversations, the questions, the moments of silence between two breaths – will hold value far beyond any certificate. And that is something no redesigned system can replace.