Stronger to Love

Dear Collective,

There is a line from Smallville that has been on my mind:

"I believe even in the darkest soul, there's always hope. People want to believe in something greater, and it may be easier to hate, but it's stronger to love."

Hate is cheap. Cynicism is easy.

It takes zero effort to get defensive, match someone's anger, and assume the absolute worst about people. Real strength is the exact opposite direction.

I got tested on this over the weekend on the soccer field.

I had just wrapped up a morning session coaching Little Lightning. The kids were happy, things were running smoothly, and I was just settling into numerous laps around the fields I make the rest of the day. Out of nowhere, a parent marched up to me. She was visibly furious, looking at me like I had personally taken her house and kick her dog to death in front of her children.

Then she hit me with a phrase: "YOU need to do something about this."

It was delivered with pure hostility. Every defensive instinct in my body flared up. The emphasis on the "you" felt like a direct attack, demanding that I fix her anger right that second. Her hate was my problem and she needed the power trip.

I looked over at the field to see what had set her off. There was a coach in his 40s wearing a pair of jeans, actively playing goalkeeper in a youth game, while kids sat on the bench.

Without any context, it looked bad. My immediate, knee-jerk reaction was to get mad too. A coach should not be on the field playing goalie while kids sit on the sideline. It would have been easy to snap back at the parent, march onto the pitch, and chew the guy out.

Instead, I took the tongue-lashing, took a breath, and went to find out what was actually happening.

First, I walked over to the opposing coach on the sideline. I asked him why an adult was in the net instead of swapping kids with pennies to balance the teams. His team had been dominating, the other kids were exhausted and demoralized, and both coaches had agreed to let the coach step into the goal just to keep the game alive.

Next, while the ball moved downfield, I jogged out to the goal.

The coach was huffing and puffing. He was giving Grade A effort, clearly loved the game, and was working hard to keep the kids engaged, but he was physically struggling. My first question was not an order to get off the field. I just asked: "Hey dude, you good? Need some water?"

He caught his breath, told me his team was completely spent, and the ball started rolling back toward our end. I said, "Good luck, coach," and let him finish the sequence.

By the time I walked over to the concessions tent to talk with the other board members, the mother who had screamed at me was already gone. She dumped her anger, demanded a reaction, and vanished.

When people come at you with anger, your brain wants to meet them with the exact same currency. It wants to yell, get defensive, and write them off.

That is the lazy way out.

It takes zero discipline to get mad. It takes immense strength to absorb an issue without letting it poison your own actions. It takes strength to look past the drama, ask questions, and meet people with patience instead of contempt.

We talk about strength in the gym every single day. We lift heavy weight and build capable bodies. But what is the point of being strong if you only use it to be cold, defensive, and bitter?

Physical strength is simple. Emotional strength is holding your ground when the room gets loud. It is having the composure to seek understanding before passing judgment, and the grace to care even when someone is yelling in your face.

This week, when someone hands you anger, don't buy into it. Choose the heavier lift. Stay calm, seek the facts, and remember that it is always stronger to love.

With strength and good habits,

Charlie

We, The Collective Fitness