Weightlifting coaches are like fruits and vegetables. They come in all shapes and sizes. If you’ve been in the game for any length of time, you’ve probably seen a lot of coaches at meets, in gyms you’ve trained at, etc.

Coaches are different from lifters, because lifters all basically look the same. They’re muscular, and they look like…well, like weightlifters. Different hair and faces, and some variations in body structure, but you know you’re looking at a lifter when you see one walk in the room. Coaches aren’t like that.

Some of them still look kinda physical and strong. You can tell they used to be athletes when you look at them. Others look like they they’ve never lifted a weight in their lives. Some coaches are fat and frumpy. Some are skinny and rangy. The young ones usually have some physical presence to them, but many of the old ones just look like the geezers you see walking around a mall. Some look good, and some don’t. The coaches that represent Catalyst Athletics are attractive and sensually arousing, while many others are ugly and displeasing.

Does it matter what coaches look like? If they’re good at their jobs and they help you make progress, does anybody give a crap if they’ve got an impressive appearance? Everybody will have their own opinion about it. Right now, you’re probably rolling your eyes and asking, “Is this whole damn article going to be about what coaches look like? Is this all we’re gonna talk about?” The answer, fortunately, is no. This article is going to be about the question of whether it’s important for coaches to have personal athletic experience in the sport they’re teaching.

Aaahhh, now it’s a little more interesting. You see, I led off this article with the subject of physical appearance because that’s something that people judge pretty harshly in our society. You know how it works. The way you look determines a lot about how people treat you, whether any of us like it that way or not. But when it comes to weightlifting, sometimes there’s a different kind of judgment that takes place. I’m talking about the way lifters judge their coaches. Some athletes think it’s a pretty big deal for their coaches to have successful backgrounds as lifters. They feel more comfortable taking orders if they know the coach accomplished some big things on the platform back in the day.

Others don’t give a damn about that. As long as the coach does a good job and makes them successful, they could care less if he/she was ever a high-level competitor. So…obviously this discussion is directed towards you. Some of you are athletes. Some of you are coaches. Many of you are both. I want to take a look at how lifters view their leaders, because it’s a topic that has some importance. Additionally, we need to confront the question of whether athletic experience in a sport is required to become an effective teacher of it. In other words, we’re really asking two separate questions. “Do you need to have a strong competitive background in weightlifting to be a good coach?” and “Is the coach/athlete relationship impacted by the competitive experience of the coach?”

Quite the little pickle we have here. Having been both an athlete and coach myself, I’ve got multiple ideas about this. Since we all understand that the connection between coaches and their lifters is one of the most crucial components of this whole business, it’s probably a good idea to have a clear perspective on it.

Examples? Examples?

Some of you might know who Naim Suleymanoglu is. If you don’t, he’s generally considered the greatest weightlifter of all time. Three-time Olympic Champion from Turkey, known as the Pocket Hercules…any of that ring a bell? He snatched 152.5 kg (336 lbs.) and clean and jerked 190 kg (418 lbs.) at 60 kilo bodyweight (132 lbs.) at the 1988 Olympics. Pound-for-pound, that’s the best weightlifting performance in history.

The reason I’m mentioning him is because of this coaching thing we’re talking about. After he won his first Olympic title in 1988, he announced his retirement. Turkey made him their head national weightlifting coach, figuring he was the perfect choice since he was the best lifter of all time. According to what I’ve heard and read, it didn’t work out very well. Suleymanoglu wasn’t a coach. I read an article in Sports Illustrated back in 1992 (I think) that described how it went. First of all, he wasn’t ready to be finished as an athlete. He retired after the ’88 Games because he had been lifting all his life and I’m sure the gold medal probably seemed like it was the top of the mountain. But then he started coaching and he watched other athletes win the World Championship in his weight class. The SI article described how he openly expressed some bitterness towards the athlete who won the 60 kg class at the 1989 Worlds. I’ve never met Naim and I obviously can’t speak on his behalf, but I think he probably felt like they were taking HIS World Championship. Even though he had transitioned to coaching, he couldn’t let go of the competitive instinct he felt as an athlete. The new job clearly wasn’t working out, so he went back to training and eventually fulfilled his legacy by winning two more Olympic crowns.

Being a great athlete doesn’t guarantee that you’re going to be a great coach. That’s a fact that we need to establish right from the get-go. People sometimes think it works this way when they look at the game from the outside. If somebody’s the best on the platform, they should be the best at teaching others, right? No way, Jack. That’s not how it works.

You don’t necessarily have to be a champion athlete to become a successful coach. I’ll go ahead and use myself as an example for this one. I’m a high school track and field coach. Specifically, I coach the throwing events (shot put and discus). At the time of this article, I’m getting ready to start my 18th year on the job. I’ve qualified over 100 throwers to the state championship throughout my career, along with producing multiple state, region, district and city champions. I’ve probably got a stronger record than the vast majority of throws coaches at the high school level. And do you want to know how much throwing experience I had as an athlete prior to this? One year of high school track, and I wasn’t even very good. Seriously, that’s my whole personal throwing resume. Sure, I threw in some masters meets when I was in my early 30s just for fun, and I’ve also thrown in the Scottish Highland Games. But in terms of real shot put and discus experience, I have very little.

I started educating myself when I got my first job, I’ve worked with some of the best coaches and throwers in the world, and I made it my mission in life to develop a successful coaching system in the throws. My weightlifting background also factors into the equation because my throwers are usually pretty solid in the strength department, and I know how to teach them to compete. In addition, I’m good at working with athletes from the standpoint of motivation, personality stuff, and all the little nuances. Combining all of this with years and years of honing my skills, I’ve done well as a coach.

The point I’m trying to make is that prior athletic experience isn’t necessarily a requirement or a guarantee when it comes to coaching success. Naim Suleymanoglu and I are on opposite ends of the spectrum in many ways, but the lessons are the same. I could list plenty of other coaching situations that further these examples, in both directions. Dan Gable was the greatest wrestler in the world, and he went on to be the greatest coach in the world. On the other hand, two of the top weightlifting coaches in the United States, Dennis Snethen and Gayle Hatch, don’t have championship records as athletes in the sport. There’s no one-size-fits-all formula for this issue. Every scenario, and every coach, is unique.

So, how do the athletes look at it?

Despite all the examples in the world, we also need to examine how lifters see the whole issue. As we know, most athletes are pretty stubborn. When they get a thought in their heads, sometimes you can’t change it regardless of all the practical examples and common sense thinking you can muster.

That means athletes are going to have their own perspective on coaches. Sometimes this perspective might be sensible and intelligent, and other times it might be completely devoid of any rational thought. Some athletes think it’s pretty important for their coaches to have strong backgrounds as athletes. I was definitely this way when I was young. It really mattered to me that my coaches had actually been weightlifters. I wanted to be guided by somebody who had walked the walk. Fortunately, that mentality led me to John Thrush. John had competed in two Olympic Trials back in the 70s and he also held the national collegiate record in the C&J for several years, so he had street cred. The fortunate part for me, however, is that he was also a great coach. I got lucky with him. Back in those days, it would have been pretty easy for me to migrate towards a lousy coach, just because he had been a world champion in the past. The prestige would have been enough to suck me in, just like it sucks in a lot of young athletes who don’t know any better. The fact that I went to a great lifter/great coach was just luck of the draw, plain and simple.

Here’s another story, and I won’t mention any names. I used to train with a female lifter who was getting ready to compete in a national championship. During the months of preparation for the meet, she had exchanged several e-mails with a coach from a different part of the country who she had never met (or seen). He was basically just contacting her to give encouragement and support. He was a fan of hers, and he wanted to pump her up for a big performance. She was really excited to meet him at the nationals. I remember going with her (I was competing too) and listening to her talk on the plane about how she was looking forward to finally being introduced to the dude. When we got there and she bumped into him in the warmup room, the two of them had a short conversation. After it was over, we all went our separate ways. She told me later that it was a total disappointment when she met the coach. I asked her why, and she said she had it built up in her mind that he was going to be some big, strong, impressive guy. This particular coach was older and, quite frankly, not physically remarkable. He was one of those older coaches I spoke about earlier who look like an average Joe. Interestingly enough, this guy actually was a highly successful coach. Many of you would probably recognize his name (and the name of the gal). But this was an example where an athlete was underwhelmed by the “look” of a coach, and it changed her perspective on him. She thought he was going to look like a former lifter with some leftover beef, but she lost interest when he didn’t fit the profile.

Is this shallow? Yeah, it is. It’s pretty crappy, if you want my opinion. But as I said earlier, athletes have funny ways of thinking. I don’t have any solutions, really. I guess these stories were simply supposed to offer you a chance for more understanding about how some of those meathead weightlifters think.

The bottom line…

Listen, it doesn’t matter if a coach is (or was) a good snatcher. What matters is that the coach can teach others how to snatch well. This is why I definitely think a coach needs some level of athletic experience in the sport they’re working with. There are things about weightlifting that you can’t learn from a book, or video, or conversations, or clinics, etc. The only place you can learn about them is by living the life. So yes, I absolutely 100 percent believe weightlifting coaches need to have been weightlifters themselves. You can never truly understand this sport unless you’ve done it.

However, that doesn’t mean the coach needs to have been a champion. That part is much less important, in my opinion. Championships are determined by talent, remember? Athletes who have more ability than everybody else will be the winners. You can have a legitimate weightlifting career without becoming a world champion. You might not have the talent to win a gold medal, but that doesn’t stop you from developing a heightened understanding of the sport. At that point, you’ve got the knowledge. If you also know how to teach and you’re good at working with people, you’re likely in a position to do some damage as a coach--and I mean “damage” in a good way.

Most lifters are young, remember. When you’re young, you’re not always smart. Judging the ability of a coach based on physical appearance is foolish. Judging a coach based on how many medals he/she won as an athlete can be very misleading. You have to know this sport as a weightlifter before you’re really ready to be a coach, but that doesn’t mean you need to have an Olympic medal hanging over your fireplace. The sport has a lot of funny little relationship quirks in it, but the only thing that really matters is results. If your coaches lead you to excellent results, do you really give a rat’s ass whether they used to be national champions? You might, but you shouldn’t. Judge them on their coaching ability, not on their snatch PR or their biceps.