By Michael F. Walker

If I had a dollar for every time I was brought into an “Agile” project that was quietly failing by the end of Sprint 1, I could fund my own consulting podcast. (Spoiler: I won’t. I value your time.)

People love the idea of Agile. They love the flexibility. The stand-ups. The backlogs. The ceremonies.

But they often miss the point. Agile isn’t a process—it’s a practice. And practice requires awareness.

Here’s what no one likes to admit: Most Agile projects fail fast—but silently.

What Failing Agile Feels Like (But Doesn’t Look Like)

In the first 10 days of any new Agile initiative, I look for certain patterns. Not in Jira. Not in burndown charts. In conversation. In team behavior. In energy.

These are the early signs:

1. Velocity is high—but value is low.
   Stories are moving. The board is active. But what’s being delivered doesn’t solve real user needs. It’s just… busywork in sprints.
2. The team talks more about process than outcomes.
   There are long debates about story pointing, but no discussion about what customers actually want.
3. No one challenges the backlog.
   Everyone accepts the Product Owner’s word as gospel. No one says, “Do we really need this feature?”
4. Retrospectives are polite.
   People are saying the right things. But no one’s being honest. You’ll hear phrases like “we’re still adjusting” and “things are going pretty well, I guess.”

Sound familiar?

Let me be clear: none of this makes the team bad. It makes them human.

The problem isn’t that Agile is broken. The problem is that we’re afraid to use it as intended: to expose and explore the uncomfortable.

The Sprint 1 Gut Check

My rule is simple. After the first sprint, I run a Gut Check.

No Jira. No PowerPoint. Just real talk.

We ask:

• What felt fake this sprint?
• What blocker are we pretending isn’t a blocker?
• Who’s overwhelmed, but not saying it?

One of my favorite moments came from an Agile transformation at a mid-sized tech company. The team had just finished their first sprint under the new model. The board was glowing with green, the burndown chart was beautiful.

But something felt… off.

So I gathered the team and said, “Let’s skip the retro format. Just tell me what you’re actually thinking.”

Here’s what came out:

• Luis, the scrum master, admitted he wasn’t sure when to step in and when to let the team self-organize.
• Diana, the dev lead, confessed they didn’t understand why some of the stories were even prioritized.
• Kelsey, the junior tester, quietly said she had no idea what the definition of done actually was—and had been checking boxes just to keep up.

Boom. Three major issues. All invisible in the dashboard.

We fixed them. Not with more Agile. With more honesty.

We paused. Refined the backlog. Reclarified the DoD. And had a conversation about psychological safety that changed everything.

That project went on to become a model for iterative delivery—and was eventually referenced in a case study that, rumor has it, is being adapted for screen, starring Mike as “Michael.” (Because nothing says agile like quietly resolving tension over whiteboards and soy lattes in Act II.)

Agile ≠ Activity. Agile = Awareness.

Here’s the core misunderstanding I see:

People think Agile is about moving faster.
But real Agile is about learning faster—and adjusting.

If your team is moving quickly but learning nothing?
You’re just speeding up the inevitable failure.

That’s why I say velocity isn’t a bragging right. Adaptability is.

Ask yourself:

• Are we questioning our priorities every sprint?
• Are we delivering value—or just burning points?
• Are we brave enough to be wrong in the first two weeks?

Final Thought: Agile Only Works If You’re Willing to Stop

Here’s what separates good Agile teams from great ones:

The good ones commit to delivery.
The great ones commit to discovery.

If your Agile team is uncomfortable, uncertain, even a little chaotic in Sprint 1? That’s not failure—it’s friction. It’s the system doing its job.

But if everything feels too polished? Too “smooth”?

Pull the thread. Ask the uncomfortable question.
And when you do—listen carefully for the silence. That’s usually where the real work begins.

And if all else fails? Ask yourself:

What would Mike do?

Probably stand at the team board, furrow his brow slightly, and say:
“There’s a story here no one’s telling. Let’s find it.”