You Can't Teach This

Had two conversations this week with young strength coaches.

One looking for a GA spot. One finishing Grad School and hunting his first real job. Both asked the same question.

What do you look for when you hire?

Here's the truth. I don't need weight room cleaners. I don't need towel folders. I don't need the kid who just likes being around the team.

I need intensity.

Not rah-rah intensity. Not energy drinks and yelling at an empty platform before a lift. That's a costume.

I'm talking about the kind of intensity that walks into a room and changes the temperature. The kind you feel before you see.

Here's a quote I keep saved on my phone:

"You can't teach intensity. Some are born with fire in their eyes. They're all in, all the time. Every moment matters. Every detail matters. No second is wasted. Their attention pierces your soul. They act with unstoppable urgency, agency, and intention. It's rare. It can't be taught. But it can be spread, because it's contagious. They push everyone around them to be a greater version of themselves."

Read that again.

That's who I want in the weight room. That's who I want next to me on a staff. That's who I want coaching my athletes when I'm not in the room.

Not because they're the loudest. Because they're the most locked in. Every rep. Every cue. Every conversation. Every cleanup. Every early morning.

You can't teach that. I know. I've tried.

But it spreads. One intense coach raises the floor for everyone around them. The young guys catch it. The athletes feel it. The standard moves.

So if you're a young coach trying to stand out, stop asking how to impress me with what you know. Start showing me how you work when nobody is watching.

And if you're a head coach trying to build a staff? Stop hiring resumes and credentials alone.

Hire the fire.

This is a reminder to me too. If I want to surround myself with people who move like this, I better be moving like that every day.

The room matches the standard of the person who sets it.

Set it high.

Keep the Fire Burning,

Leech