Written by William Johnson, November 11, 2025
In sports, there’s a saying every athlete eventually learns the hard way: “If your coach stops correcting you, they’ve stopped caring.” With so much going on about kids and parents being upset about when a coach gets on them or their child, I felt like it was time to revisit some things with coaching. For one, coaching is downright hard. Imagine trying to keep 10+ players happy who have different personalities and different drives; that’s crazy, isn’t it? It hits different when you finally understand it. At first, it feels like criticism. It feels like pressure. It feels like someone is constantly on you about every mistake, every missed rotation, every bad decision. But with time—and usually with maturity—you realize something deeper.
Correction is a form of love, and accountability is a form of investment.
Coaches don’t spend extra time on players they don’t believe in. They don’t grind film on someone who isn’t worth the effort. They don’t raise their voice for someone who doesn’t matter in the long-term plan. When a coach is on you, when they pull you aside, when they break down your mistake, and when they demand more from you than you think you can give…that’s not disrespect, that’s belief. Parents and players, don’t jump the gun on being corrected; there just might be a lot of love behind it.
A lot of athletes only see the surface: the yelling, the tone, the frustration when you mess up. But here’s what’s actually happening: a coach sees potential you haven’t tapped into yet, a coach knows your mistakes are fixable, and a coach believes you can change, grow, and elevate. They correct you because they expect more from you. They expect more from you because they believe in you. They believe in you because they care. It’s that simple.
The real warning sign of a coach reaching their wits’ end is silence. Silence is when your coach stops breaking down your mistakes. Silence is when they stop giving you direction. Silence is when they stop challenging you. Silence is when they let things slide that they used to stop practice for. That silence isn’t comfort, it’s a warning. Silence means they’ve accepted you as you are. They no longer expect improvement. They no longer see the upside. They no longer believe you’ll respond. In sports, that is the real danger.
The misunderstanding that tough love is just tough is an issue. Tough love is still LOVE. A great coach cares about more than your performance—they care about your character, mindset, and future. They correct you because life will correct you harsher. They push you because the world won’t give you anything easy. They teach you discipline because talent without discipline fades fast. They demand accountability because it’s the difference between potential and production. Correction today prevents regret tomorrow. Behind every tough coaching moment is someone who wants you to succeed more than you might want it yourself.
Talk to any former athlete years after their playing days, and they’ll tell you the same thing, “The coach who was hardest on me? That’s the coach who cared the most.” Nobody remembers the coach who let them do whatever they wanted. Everybody remembers the one who pushed them, believed in them, challenged their habits, and refused to let them settle because that coach changed them—not just as a player, but as a person.
My final thoughts: listen when that tough coach is still talking. If a coach is correcting you, be grateful. If they’re on you, appreciate it. If they’re pushing you, lean into it because the moment they stop talking, the moment they stop trying to fix your mistake,
The moment they stop investing energy into you, that’s the moment you should be concerned. Coaches show love through expectations, accountability, and honesty. The toughest coaching often comes from the deepest care.
So the next time a coach gets on you, remember:
They’re not against you.
They’re for you—more than you know.
