Honestly, I fall on the side of disliking you. Your conversations between coaches and players are often painfully dull, meandering or short on words. Unscientifically speaking, they're probably vigorous or interesting perhaps one in every five times they're shown on live television. What's more, you aren't even allowed in major events, which abide by their own rules, not those of the WTA or ATP.
On-court coaching, you're defined by the reason you exist in the first place: You could be great in theory, but largely terrible in execution.
Might Petra Martic have benefited from you in her free-fall against Elina Svitolina at Roland Garros? And might Svitolina in turn have enjoyed a coaching visit against Simona Halep? And do you think Halep herself might have turned around her situation in the French Open final had she been empowered by Darren Cahill?
The world will never know–and it doesn't need to. The truth is that each of these professionals might have benefited in her respective case, and might also have performed better in the end had she been better prepared in lead-up tournaments to harness the situations and turn them to her own advantage.
On-court coaching, you rarely make for great TV. Last year's Roland Garros winner, Garbine Muguruza, and her coach, Sam Sumyk, provide the awkward proof: