We like to think of laziness as a character flaw. We look at is as a behavioral trait rooted in apathy or entitlement.
We throw around phrases like “He just doesn’t want it bad enough,” or “She’s not willing to put in the work.” But look deeper; most so-called laziness isn’t about a lack of desire. It’s about fear.
Laziness and fear often live in the same strand of DNA. They express differently, but they share the same origin: a quiet, persistent voice whispering, “You can’t.”
When a player slouches through warmups, avoids the weight room, or skips reps, it’s easy to call it laziness. But many times, that athlete isn’t apathetic … he’s terrified.
He’s afraid he’ll try and still fall short. He’s afraid he’ll give everything, and it still won’t be enough. It’s easier to coast; easier to not test your limits than to find out where they really are.
Laziness of the mind is no different. How often have you seen someone refuse to learn a new concept. It’s not because they weren’t interested; but because they were afraid they wouldn’t understand?
In school, the kid who jokes around instead of asking questions isn’t lazy. He’s protecting his image. He’s afraid to look dumb, so he plays dumb. It’s a form of armor.
In baseball, we see this in players who resist change. You show them a new drill, a new movement pattern, a new mental model. They look away. They do it half-heartedly. They claim it “feels weird” or “doesn’t make sense.”
The truth: it threatens their current understanding of themselves. Learning something new might expose how much they don’t know … and that’s scary. So, they don’t. Not because they’re lazy; because they’re afraid.
And players aren’t the only ones. Coaches wrestle with this gene, too.
Every coach I know is doing their best to help players improve and help their teams win. Most are deeply committed leaders with servant hearts. They’re devoted to their craft and their kids. But that doesn't make them immune to the quiet grip of fear.
When a new idea threatens the comfort of a system they’ve built over years, it’s natural to hesitate. “That’s not how we do it.” “It’s working; why change it?” “All those force plates, biomechanics reports, and aquabags are eyewash”
That resistance doesn’t come from arrogance; it usually comes from uncertainty. Sometimes it’s a form of mental fatigue. Coaches are stretched thin, and the thought of overhauling a system is overwhelming. But often, there’s fear underneath.
Fear they won’t fully grasp the new material.
Fear that adopting new methods will expose blind spots.
Fear that players might start asking questions they’re not prepared to answer.
So they stick to the old ways. Not because they’re confident. They’re just comfortable.
In life, it’s the same. People stay in jobs they hate, relationships that drain them, habits that hollow them out; not because they’re lazy, but because change is terrifying.
The moment you try something new; you open yourself up to failure. You invite uncertainty. It’s easier to do nothing.
But here’s the problem: fear disguised as laziness builds nothing. It protects the ego, but it paralyzes the soul. It shields you from failure, but it also robs you of growth.
The best athletes (and the best coaches) aren’t fearless; they’re courageous. They feel the same fear, but they move anyway. They try the new drill. They dive into the new idea. They stretch their body, their brain, their belief system.
They do hard things not because they’re confident they’ll succeed, but because they’re committed to expanding what they’re capable of.
So if you find yourself procrastinating, avoiding, or coasting, ask yourself a harder question. Not “Why am I lazy?” but “What am I afraid of?”
Because if you’re lazy, you can try harder. But if you’re afraid, you’ll never even try.
And that’s the real tragedy; not failing … but never knowing what you could have been if you'd pushed past the lie.
Randy Sullivan, MPT, CSCS CEO, Florida Baseball ARMory
