I want to be clear about something before we start. Positivity has its place. Encouragement matters. A coach who never acknowledges what’s going well is missing something important.
But there is a significant difference between being someone’s biggest fan and being their coach. And in this industry right now, that line is getting harder to find.
What Cheerleading Actually Looks Like
Coaching is a relationship where you interchange between positive, negative, and neutral feedback — whatever is required at that specific moment to best support the development of the person in front of you.
Cheerleading is just being positive. All the time. Regardless of what’s actually happening.
A cheerleader celebrates a random ten rep max that has nothing to do with the athlete’s actual goal. They sing the praises of every set, every rep, every session. Everything is good. Everything is great. Keep doing you.
That feels good in the moment. It doesn’t build anything over time.
Why It’s Become So Common
Cheerleading tends to show up most in newer coaches. It’s also more common in coaches who are driven primarily by financial gain rather than genuine long term investment in the people they’re working with.
Part of it is environmental. Functional training settings, in particular, have built a culture around infectious positivity. That energy is genuinely useful for creating an atmosphere in the room. But it doesn’t automatically translate into development.
Social media has made it worse. Most coaches only show the highlights. The successful lifts, the transformations, the celebrations. The fails, the hard conversations, the missed lifts that taught someone something — those make up a much smaller percentage of what gets posted. Because positivity sells. We’re in a results-driven industry where people want to get stronger, sharper, faster. And just like the weight loss injection conversation, people gravitate toward whatever promises the quickest result. When a real coach challenges that, people push back.
The problem is that when everything is always good, the coach’s credibility eventually collapses. The moment they deliver genuine critique, the athlete questions it. There’s no established pattern of honest feedback to anchor it to. The trust isn’t there because it was never built on anything real.
What It Costs the Athlete
It’s hard to put a precise time cost on cheerleading because it’s different for everyone. But the questions worth asking are these. Is the athlete learning? Are they growing? Are they being educated? Is this a working developmental relationship, or has it just become a pat on the back and well done?
Because there’s also a financial cost. People are paying for development and receiving applause instead.
And then there’s dependency. A cheerleader creates athletes who need constant validation to function. Who can’t self-assess, can’t self-correct, and can’t train without someone telling them how brilliant they are. That’s the opposite of what good coaching produces.
A cheerleader creates athletes who need constant validation to function. That’s the opposite of what good coaching produces.
I’ve stepped back from traditional personal training largely for this reason. What I found, more often than not, was that clients wanted someone to tell them what to do and cheer them along while they did it — without being genuinely invested in the process themselves. I ended up doing all the driving. All the emotional heavy lifting. That’s not coaching. That’s not something I’m interested in doing.
What I will do is spend an hour with a lifter breaking down their movement, having a reflective conversation, giving them something real to take away and work with. That’s a different thing entirely.
What Real Coaching Actually Looks Like
When I intervene in a session, I’m not broadcasting answers. I’m asking questions.
Questions a coach asks
How did that feel? Could you feel where the bar was when it broke the floor? What did you notice in your upper body at the start of the pull?
I’m steering the athlete toward the area I want them to explore, but I need them to feel it, understand it, and own it. Not just hear it and comply. Because compliance without understanding doesn’t last. Athletes who understand what they’re doing, why they’re doing it, and how it connects to their goal — those athletes develop. Those athletes stay.
The Right Feedback at the Right Time
Every athlete is different. And every athlete is different on different days.
Someone I might challenge robustly on a good day needs a completely different approach when they’ve had no sleep, haven’t eaten, and walked in carrying stress from work or family. The feedback I need to deliver doesn’t change. The way I deliver it does.
That reading happens through relationship. Taking enough time at the start of a session — not to pry, but to genuinely check in. Body language, tone, eye contact, how they’re moving compared to how they normally move. All of that is information. And with youth athletes, we’re also looking for changes in personality, presentation, anything that might signal something beyond the gym. That’s part of the responsibility of being in the room with people.
The room matters too. One badly delivered piece of feedback doesn’t just affect the individual — it changes the energy of the entire environment. A coach who shouts correction across the room at someone who needs a quiet word to one side hasn’t just failed that athlete. They’ve affected everyone present.
The Balance
I teach this specifically when delivering education for British Weightlifting and British Powerlifting at Level 2. Coaches have to be careful not to swing so far away from cheerleading that they become relentlessly critical. Neither extreme serves the athlete.
And less is more. Particularly with a neurodiverse population — which, in barbell sports, is a significant proportion of who we work with. Give someone one or two things to focus on per session. Prioritise what will make the biggest difference right now. Giving an athlete five corrections during a snatch doesn’t produce five improvements. It produces paralysis.
The skill isn’t knowing what needs fixing. It’s knowing what needs fixing first.
What Cheerleading Does to the Coach
I don’t think cheerleading makes coaches lazy. What I think it does is reflect isolation.
Most cheerleading coaches don’t have mentorship. They don’t have reflective practice. They don’t have anyone holding them to a higher standard because there’s no one in their environment doing that. And in this industry, that’s genuinely common. It’s hard enough to run a private facility, keep the lights on, tick the legal boxes, and stay above water — let alone invest in your own development at the same time.
That’s not an excuse. But it is context. And it’s another reason why coaches need communities around them, not just clients.
What I’d Say to a Young Coach
I got my first qualification somewhere between seventeen and nineteen. And honestly, I’m not sure I would have been ready to hear any of this then. I thought I knew everything. Most young coaches do.
What I know now is how much I didn’t know. And how much of what I learned without realising it — working in the military, helping run Army sport, operating within real structures with real accountability — I only understand the value of in hindsight.
Be careful who you learn from. There are plenty of people in this industry who will teach you a methodology to make money. That’s not nothing — the business side matters. But if the person teaching you has never actually built anything real, never coached anyone through a genuine long term development journey, never been in the room when it got hard — take what they say with appropriate caution.
What Real Coaching Feels Like
Anyone who comes for a session with me typically spends the first twenty to thirty minutes wondering what’s going on. I’m laid back. I’m not performing. I’m not filling the room with energy and noise.
And then we pick up a barbell. And then we talk. And then I start asking questions that make them think in ways they haven’t thought before. And that’s when it lands.
I will make you think. About what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and how you’re doing it. That’s what I expect from every coach at Crazy Strength. And it comes back to three things we come back to constantly — discipline in how you move, control of what you’re doing, and intention behind every rep.
That’s what coaching feels like. Not a performance. Not a highlight reel. Just honest, purposeful work between two people who both take it seriously.
Craig Spicer is the founder and head coach at Crazy Strength, Amesbury. He coaches at every level of barbell sport, delivers education for British Weightlifting and British Powerlifting, and has 25 years of coaching experience across sport and the military. Follow @craig.spicer on Instagram.
There’s a particular kind of frustration that doesn’t announce itself loudly. It builds quietly, over months, through small moments that individually seem manageable but collectively start to wear at something fundamental in you. The moment you name it, everything becomes clearer.
This post is about accountability. Not the corporate buzzword version. The real kind — where words have weight, actions have consequences, and people are expected to stand behind both. Follow along at @craig.spicer where I share the unfiltered reality of leadership and what it actually takes to build something that lasts.
The Kind Person’s Dilemma
I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to look after people. It’s not a strategy — it’s just who I am. I’m laid-back by nature, I genuinely care about the people around me, and I will go out of my way to support, encourage, and invest in others. Most people who know me well would tell you the same.
What I’ve learned — particularly over the last 12 months — is that some people read that as permission.
Not consciously, perhaps. But somewhere along the line, kindness gets mistaken for compliance. A relaxed manner gets read as indifference to standards. And when you eventually respond with the same directness that’s been directed at you, or when you hold someone to something they said or did, the reaction is one of genuine surprise.
As if the rules only applied one way.
A Difficult 12 Months — And What It Revealed
I’ll be honest with you. The last six to twelve months have been some of the most demanding I can remember. Business pressures, a significant move, rising costs, and the kind of accumulated stress that doesn’t always show on the surface but absolutely affects how you show up day to day.
During that period, I wasn’t always as robust as I needed to be. I let some things go that I shouldn’t have. I absorbed more than I should have absorbed. And in doing so, I inadvertently gave some people the impression that the standards I hold — for myself and for those around me — had softened.
They hadn’t. I had just been running low.
The last two to three weeks have felt different. I’m back. Recalibrated, clear-headed, and reminded of exactly what I stand for. And with that clarity has come a sharper view of a pattern I’d been too stretched to address properly — people who are very comfortable saying and doing whatever they like, right up until the moment they’re held to it.
The Accountability Gap
Accountability isn’t a punishment. It’s a basic feature of any functioning relationship, team, or organisation. You say something — you own it. You do something — you own that too. The consequences of your words and actions belong to you, whether you intended them or not.
What I’ve encountered repeatedly in recent months is a significant gap between people’s willingness to act freely and their willingness to accept the consequences of that freedom.
People say things carelessly, then reframe them when challenged. People make commitments, then act as though the commitment was never made. And when you respond — calmly, clearly, and with the expectation that they stand behind what they said — the reaction is often one of offence.
It’s a revealing moment. Because the people who struggle most with being held accountable are almost always the people who’ve never genuinely had to be.
Opinions Are a Two-Way Street
This is the part I want to be particularly clear about.
I have no issue with people sharing their views. Healthy disagreement is one of the most valuable things that can happen in any conversation. I actively encourage it. What I do take issue with is the specific dynamic where someone feels entirely comfortable telling me what I should be doing, where I’m going wrong, or what the right answer is — and then becomes visibly uncomfortable the moment I disagree, push back, or offer a perspective rooted in my own experience.
Because that experience is not insignificant.
Twenty-five years working across national governing bodies, the British military, building sports programmes from the ground up, developing coaches, running a business — that body of work earns a perspective worth hearing. It doesn’t make me infallible. It doesn’t mean I’m always right. But it does mean that when I offer a view, it comes from somewhere real.
Experience doesn’t make you arrogant. It makes you qualified. And there’s a meaningful difference between the two.
If you’re going to offer an opinion, be prepared to receive one. If you’re going to challenge someone’s thinking, be prepared to have your own challenged in return. That’s not aggression — that’s an honest conversation between adults.
What Holding People Accountable Actually Looks Like
There’s a version of accountability that people fear — aggressive, personal, point-scoring. That’s not what I’m talking about.
Holding someone accountable, done properly, is measured. It’s clear. It’s direct without being cruel. It says: “You said this. You did this. I’m not going to pretend otherwise, and I’m not going to lower my standards to make you more comfortable.”
The key distinction
Reacting is emotional and immediate. Responding is considered and intentional. When I hold someone to their words or actions, it comes from a place of principle, not frustration.
Being robust is not the same as being unkind. You can be warm and firm at the same time. In fact, the most respectful thing you can do for another person is take them seriously enough to expect them to own what they’ve said and done. Letting people off the hook isn’t kindness — it’s just easier.
Getting Back in the Game
The last few weeks have reminded me of something important. Standards don’t disappear during hard periods — they just become harder to maintain. And when you come back to yourself after a difficult stretch, you see very clearly what was allowed to slip and what needs to be recalibrated.
This post isn’t a rant. It’s a reminder — for me as much as anyone reading it.
- Own your words.
- Own your actions.
- Expect others to do the same.
- When they don’t — be measured, be clear, and hold the line.
That’s not a personality flaw. That’s leadership.
For more on how I think about leadership, accountability, and building something real, head over to the Crazy Strength blog — including my recent post on knowing when to lead and when to follow.
Your Move
Think about one conversation or situation in the last month where you let something go that you shouldn’t have. Not because it wasn’t worth addressing — but because it felt easier not to.
What would it look like to go back and hold that line, calmly and clearly?
That’s where this starts. Connect with me at @craig.spicer — I’d genuinely like to hear where this lands for you.