The Man Box Loves “Gladiators.” Our Teams Don’t Need It.
Dan Hurley gave another classic postgame soundbite last night. Asked about the Kansas crowd unloading chants at him, he said: “The chants? Yeah, I wasn't expecting that… If that’s how people want to carry themselves in a game. It’s sports. We’re all fucking gladiators, right?”
And I picked this for today’s blog for a few reasons. First — Dan Hurley is always entertaining. Second — every HS coach in Oregon is gearing up for opening night, which means student sections, emotions, and distractions are about to be back in play. Third — because Hurley’s comment (whether tongue-in-cheek or not) exposes something I think is deeply embedded in our coaching culture.
We’re competitive people. We’re excited to be “back in the arena” — bands playing, gyms shaking, scoreboards lighting up. Our blood will get going. It’s supposed to.
But we are literally playing a sport. We are not gladiators. Our physical lives are not on the line. Convincing ourselves otherwise is not just silly — it’s unhealthy.
This is exactly how Man Box framing creeps into our worldview.
We start with: sport = physical.
Then: physical = combat.
Then: combat = war.
Then: war = manly.
And suddenly a Tuesday night game in [Insert Random Town, USA] becomes “this is war” theater — and we act shocked when someone crosses a line in the second quarter.
We are not in Rome. We’re in a high school gym. Settle down.
Our players don’t need us to model “gladiator energy.” They need us to model composure, clarity, and competitive fire without the delusion that we’re stepping into battle.
Healthy men can compete without becoming caricatures of toughness.
COACH PROMPTS
What language do you use on game night that unintentionally shifts players into “war mode” instead of “compete mode”?
How do you bring intensity without borrowing toxic metaphors that distort what sport actually is?
When the crowd heats up, what version of yourself do your players see?
PLAYER PROMPTS
Do you play better when you feel like you’re in a war… or when you’re locked in and composed?
What message are you sending when your emotions spill over the line?
How can you bring fire without losing your identity?
