The official website of the European Judo Union (EJU) has published the first episode of the interview with Kosovar judo coach Driton Kuka. From Mittersill to LA2028, Driton Kuka opens the backstage of a new Olympic cycle. He talks about his iron philosophy, the sacrifices behind the medals and the burden of expectations that come with success. A candid account of building champions from a small country, the change of generations and the need for new methods. A story about discipline, pressure and the great prize of Olympic excellence.
Below is the translation of Kukës' entire interview for AND YOU, while in the coming days it has been announced that two more episodes will be released.
As the qualification period for the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics begins, few coaches carry the weight of expectations like Driton Kuka. Sitting down for a friendly chat at the Mittersill Olympic Training Camp, the man who has led Kosovo to five Olympic medals, including three golds, in three consecutive Games reflects on what it takes to remain at the top of international judo.
In the first of a three-part series, Kosovo coach Driton Kuka, affectionately known as "Toni," opens up about his unique coaching philosophy, the sacrifices behind the Olympic gold medal, and why building champions from a small nation requires building a Ferrari from scratch.
"We, like Kosovo, with a small base, with a small number of athletes, have to build a Ferrari from a single athlete," explains Toni, his words that touch the heart of his philosophy. "So it is very difficult to create both, a normal life and the life of a high-level athlete," reports the Telegraph.
This metaphor, building a Ferrari, sums up everything about Kuka's approach. It is careful, demanding and uncompromising. Yet it is also the only way a nation of less than two million people has managed to stand alongside the superpowers of judo on the Olympic podium.
LA2028, here we are…
As we enter the LA2028 qualifying period in a few months, Tony is characteristically pragmatic about his team's prospects. "For qualification, we have three top-level athletes who qualified for Paris," he begins. "We're trying to develop young athletes who have the potential to achieve Olympic qualification. At the moment, we're running some experiments with some of the girls, so to speak. Some of them are coming down a weight class, and we also have some young athletes who haven't been involved in the Olympics in the past."
His goal? Three to five Olympic qualifiers. "If these three, Distria, Fazliu and Akili, are healthy, Olympic qualification is a certainty. In addition, we have three or four young athletes who could be on the path to qualifying for Los Angeles."
However, Toni knows better than anyone that Olympic cycles cannot be repeated. The methodology that gave Majlinda Kelmendi the gold medal in Rio 2016 would not work for Tokyo, and Tokyo's approach would not be enough for Paris.
“If I compare myself as a coach for Rio, Tokyo and Paris, I think I have improved in each Olympic cycle with new methods, new judo and new approaches,” he reflects. “The Olympic Games are a four-year period and you cannot achieve good results using the same methodologies all the time. This is my experience,” the Telegraph reports.
It is a lesson learned through evolution, adaptation and a considerable commitment to staying one step ahead in a sport where global investment continues to accelerate.
Japanese Connection
One of Toni's most important decisions recently has been bringing a Japanese coach to the Kosovo team, an extraordinary choice for a coach who has built his reputation by developing local talent.
“We have a large number of good young athletes,” he explains. “What I see in the work and in the future of these athletes under 18 is that we need to improve the wazan, and that is why I spoke with the President of our Federation and with the Ministry, and it is a project supported by the Ministry.”
This move reflects Tony’s willingness to acknowledge gaps and seek expertise where needed. “Majlinda and the other coaches need the experience and knowledge of a Japanese coach to further improve ne-waza. Ne-waza is also a strong part of Nora [Gjakova] as an athlete, so I think that the Japanese expertise and Nora’s ne-waza together can greatly improve the younger generation.”
It is a strategic investment in Kosovo's future, recognizing that, while Toni has mastered the art of building Olympic champions, the next generation will require new tools, new knowledge, and perhaps most importantly, new perspectives.
Marathon ahead
Managing athletes through a two-year qualification cycle is a marathon, not a sprint. How does Tony keep his team mentally fit and emotionally balanced?
"Now we start. Let's say that from this Olympic training camp in Mittersill, we start thinking seriously about all the details," he says. "It's time to warm up the engines of each athlete, to assess the possibilities and injuries. We have already addressed some problems and now I think the whole team is healthy and ready."
However, it's more than just physical preparation. "Now is the time to start, to make a really good plan and create a strategy first for Olympic qualification and then for our main goal: an Olympic medal. So now that we are in January 2026, two and a half years, let's say, before the Olympics, it's time to create a clear path and a real working system for what we want to achieve."
By setting clear long-term goals, demanding honesty and discipline, and constantly working on the athletes' mindset, Tony ensures that they remain mentally strong, emotionally balanced, and focused throughout the long qualifying journey.
As we discuss the LA2028 Olympic Games, beneath the strategic planning lies a deeper objective and more responsibility ahead. "My goal, as head coach, is also to build a new team that is pursuing our best athletes for the 32nd and 36th Olympic Games," the Telegraph reports.
A philosophy born of necessity
When asked to sum up his coaching philosophy in a single sentence, Tony doesn't hesitate: "Sometimes I tell my athletes not to think with their minds because they'll stop. They have to keep going because if you're too tired and thinking in a normal way, you can't do it. So stop thinking and work until the end."
It is a philosophy rooted in the reality of Kosovo, a small state that is doing much better than it should, where there is no room for mistakes, no room for mental weakness when physical fatigue sets in.
Like everything in life, this philosophy comes at a cost. When asked about the hardest part of his job that people don't see, Tony's answer is unexpectedly weak.
"The hardest part for me is managing the athletes' lives as a whole. It's not easy, especially with girls because life goes on. There's always a line between how much private life they can have and how much they have to dedicate to high-level achievements."
He pauses, the weight of his words settling in the room.
"I know...", he pauses again before continuing, "Sometimes I want to impose iron discipline on them, but other times I feel bad because I want them to experience life at a young age. This is really difficult, because sometimes I tell them things that I don't really feel in my soul and heart. Maybe every now and then I want them to have more life, but on the other hand I tell them, look, we as Kosovo, with a small base and a small number of athletes, have to build a Ferrari from a single athlete," reports the Telegraph.
The price of excellence
The inner conflict that Tony describes is palpable. He talks about men who want to go out, drink, stay up late. Tony looks around the room before saying, “Sometimes I need to punish them and I don’t feel good about it, because sometimes I think that’s normal. Maybe sometimes they need to be free to enjoy a night out until morning.”
"But that's always the problem with me," he admits. "Because, like I said before, sometimes I say things to them when I'm not even sure I'm saying the right things."
How does he reconcile this inner turmoil? "When I think about it, these five Olympic medals make me happy, and even when I have doubts, I go back and count the medals and say, okay, they may have lost something, but they gained a lot. Not only for themselves, but for the team, for me, for their families and most importantly for a new country that many people don't even know where it is."
He mentions the impact of Majlinda's results, followed by Distria [Krasniqi], Nora [Gjakova], Akili [Gjakova], Loriana [Kuka] and Laura [Fazliu]. “Small Kosovo is now a big country through its sports results and that makes me really happy.”
Decisions that break hearts
When asked if he has ever had to make a decision that broke his heart but was the right one for the athlete or the team, Tony's answer is immediate: "Many times... really, many times. I struggle with this part of the job because it's a psychological aspect and it's not easy."
"From the beginning, we worked as a family and I wasn't just there for them in judo. Many times, I tried to help them with school, family problems, financial difficulties, life in general, sponsors or support from the government and the Olympic Committee. Now it's very difficult to tell them things that I think are wrong for life, but good for their career."
He doesn't know if, years later, his athletes will say he did the right thing or the wrong thing. "I don't know, it's always a balance of pros and cons with the discipline aspect."
Then comes an extraordinary admission: "Maybe I'll start writing down important things, important conversations that we have, because this is a very important part for future coaches in the next 10 to 15 years," he says, smiling, his eyes reflecting on the past while already looking far into the future.
Generational change
Toni sees the challenge facing his assistant coaches, especially Majlinda Kelmendi, who has moved on in her coaching career. “Now I see Majlinda as a new coach. She tries to be like I was, but these generations are completely different. And I say to Majlinda, look, don’t think you can do with your athletes what I did with you, Nora and Distria, because time flies.”
The 'war generation', as Toni calls them, those who were children during the Kosovo conflict, had a different hunger, a different desire. "Now they are a completely different generation. They want 90% life."
"So now we're trying to find a new way. Always trying a new way," he continues. "Now I have a lot of conversations with coaches in countries with a higher level of economic development and I ask them to share their experiences, because what I did with my three Olympic champions, I can't do anymore. I have to find a new way."
This, Tony insists, is the challenge for his coaching team. “They have to understand that this is 50% of performance: if you can make them winners in their minds, champions in their minds and able to put everything else aside for one main goal. That’s not easy. Everyone can play with words. Everyone will say, yes, I’ll give my 100%, but we, as coaches, feel it. Most of them say it, but they don’t do it. They don’t work.”
His frustration is palpable. “Sometimes I tell them, come on, you have to start working, and they say, ‘But I’m working.’ No, that’s nothing. That’s 30% of what Majlinda did, 30%. And then they say, ‘Yeah, but she’s Majlinda.’ They have to remember that she’s a human being too. She also had a lot of pain and a lot of difficulties during training, but she gritted her teeth and never stopped.”
The weight of a nation
Kosovo has won Olympic medals in only one sport in three Olympic Games: judo. All of them have been under Toni's leadership.
“It’s not easy,” he admits when asked how it feels to carry the hope of an entire nation. “Before we went to the Olympics, they said, oh, no problem. There’s Toni with a team and for sure Kosovo will win a medal. This is really difficult.”
However, he has reached a point of acceptance. "Now that I have medals from three Olympic Games, I'm really happy and even if we don't win medals in the next Olympic Games, I know people will say 'wow', but come on now, it's very normal."
He puts Kosovo’s achievements in perspective, citing Spain’s 20-year lack of Olympic medals in judo. “Imagine Spain as an example, with many clubs, many good coaches and more than 10,000 athletes, and they had to wait four or five Olympic Games for a medal. So when you see these things, you understand how difficult it is to win a medal in judo.”
The pressure, he admits, is immense. "Being the coach of the only team that has won an Olympic medal for the country is really tough. Believe me, it's been 16 years of great stress. Now, sometimes I say to my coaches, come on, take some of this stress off yourself, because I'm already a little tired of this constant expectation and this thing that's always on my mind." /Telegraph/
