What do the three fastest swimmers in history have in common — Fred Bousquet, César Cielo, and Kristian Gkolomeev?
In each case, I set the table, and they ate. Their greatness wasn’t something I forced. It was already there. My role was to build the right environment and then get out of the way.
I didn’t overcoach them. I let their talent speak. I let their internal drive surface every day. These athletes didn’t need constant correction, they needed space to express. My job was to make sure the plan gave them clarity, confidence, and purpose.
The daily training environment had to challenge them, push them, and match their intensity. The workout, the atmosphere, the training partners, all of it had to be in sync. When that happens, elite athletes stop training against a clock. They start competing with the environment itself.
That’s how world-class speed emerges: not from control, but from trust, in the athlete, in the process, and in the freedom to perform.
That’s it. I didn’t try to change who they were. I gave them an environment that brought the best out of them, not one that boxed them in. Each of them had something unique, something you can’t teach. My job was to recognize it early, build trust, and let it breathe.
César Cielo – The Chosen One
César was different from the start. He walked on deck like he already knew he was going to be the best in the world, and then trained like he had something to prove. He had this unbelievable combination of raw talent, emotional energy, and belief in his destiny. He didn’t overthink anything. He raced fast because he believed he should be fast.
All I had to do was create structure around his chaos, and make sure his confidence had a foundation. We didn’t talk about limits. We talked about what was possible. And when he stood behind the blocks, he already knew the result.
Fred Bousquet – The Technician with Power
Fred was ahead of his time. He didn’t just swim fast, he understood fast. He could feel his way through the water with this rare connection between his mind and body. Nobody applied force to water like Fred. Nobody understood speed dynamics the way he did. He was powerful, but precise. Every movement had intention.
What Fred needed wasn’t motivation, he needed a plan that respected his attention to detail. He didn’t want fluff. He wanted to know why it mattered. When things lined up, when he felt connected, he broke through barriers no one thought possible.
Kristian Gkolomeev – The Untapped Force
Kristian had all the tools. Physically, he’s one of the most gifted athletes I’ve ever worked with. But for a long time, he hadn’t been in a program that matched his potential. He was just getting through practices, never really owning them. When he came to me, it wasn’t about rebuilding him. It was about showing him what he already had, and raising the bar.
With Kristian, we had to shift the mindset. Once he started showing up with purpose, once he saw what he was capable of, everything changed. He started attacking workouts. He became the standard for the group. The talent was always there, it just needed to be given a reason to come out.
With all three guys, the key was the same: don’t overcoach talent. Let it express itself. Let them feel confident in the daily plan, and let them compete with the environment, not just the clock. When that happens, when the training and mindset and group all click into place, that’s when greatness happens.
You don’t create it. You just make room for it.
All three of them - Fred, César, and Kristian, had something you can’t coach.
They had another gear. But it didn’t show up every day. It wasn’t something you could script into a workout. It lived deep down, and it only came out under real pressure, when it mattered, when the moment was bigger than anything they’d felt in training.
But every once in a while, even in practice, that gear would show itself, usually when they were challenged, pushed, or pissed off. You’d see it in a 25, a last rep, or a side-by-side sprint that got personal. It wasn’t planned. It was instinct. And when it came out, the whole pool shifted. Everyone knew it. That moment when the room got quiet and the stopwatch didn’t even matter, you just knew you were watching something different.
César
César believed he was destined for greatness, and he trained like it. But that last gear, the one that won Olympic gold and set world records, only came out when the pressure was real. He didn’t need a perfect race plan, he needed the lights, the expectation, the stakes. That’s when he’d hit the wall like he was shot out of something. You’d see that extra lift in the last 15. That wasn’t a physical thing, that was belief turning into speed.
Fred
Fred had this quiet intensity, but when the stress got high, when the challenge was sharp, he locked in. He thrived in chaos. Every detail got cleaner, tighter. The more pressure you put on him, the more refined he became. And every once in a while, someone would push him just hard enough in training, and boom, he'd rip something insane. You'd look down at the watch and shake your head. That was the gear most people never had, and he only needed it when it counted.
Kristian
Kristian’s was buried the deepest. He didn’t show it often. You had to corner him, really push him, mentally and physically, to see what he had. But when it came out, it was violent. Controlled, but violent. In meets, when he felt challenged, or when he knew he had to deliver, it would hit, a stroke rate that jumped, kicks that lit up, and a presence that took over the pool. We saw it in training sometimes, but only when the moment demanded it. You couldn’t fake it.
That gear, that next level, it’s what separates the elite from the great. Not how fast they go on a good day, but what they’re capable of when everything’s on the line.
And as a coach, your job isn’t to pull it out every day. It’s to recognize it, respect it, and build an environment that challenges it enough to keep it sharp… without breaking it. You can’t force it. You can only make room for it.