Vice, Victimhood, and the Need to STFU
The following blog post is best read AFTER watching the clips below:
I tell people often that I’m usually a willing messenger, but that doesn’t always make me the right messenger. A lifetime of coaching and speaking has stripped away the fear of stepping on a stage and sharing my opinions, my journey, my failures. But I’ve also learned—sometimes painfully—that just because I want to speak doesn’t mean I should. Sometimes, like many men, I need to learn how to take up less space and be quiet.
That lesson feels relevant here with Michael Porter Jr.
One generous reading of his recent now viral podcast clips is that he’s trying vulnerability—sharing his struggles with faith, women, and self-discipline. But the way he frames it exposes how unprepared he is to communicate without reinforcing the very tropes that got him stuck in the first place. A harsher, and maybe more accurate, reading: this is a privileged athlete leaning into toxic ideology—objectifying women as “vices,” excusing himself as a “victim,” and even using Andrew Tate as some kind of filter-test for women.
That isn’t growth; that’s harm dressed up as honesty.
Even more concerning than MPJ’s words are the reactions—the podcast hosts sanitizing his takes, the comment sections praising him, the fans treating his perspective as gospel. Sometimes the bravest, most mature move a man can make isn’t doubling down on his half-formed takes. It’s learning when to stop talking.
Sometimes, fellas, we need to STFU.
Coach’s Prompt:
When have you felt like you weren’t the right messenger for a topic or moment with your team? How do you decide when to speak and when to hold back?
Player’s Prompt:
Think about someone you look up to. How do you filter what they say—deciding what’s worth learning from versus what might be harmful, incomplete, or flat-out wrong?
Show Me the Lessons, Not Just the Lecture
CONTEXT NOTE: If you haven’t seen it yet, you can watch Northern Illinois Head Football Coach Thomas Hammock full comments here: Video of Hammock’s rant and read the Sports Illustrated coverage here: SI article.
I understand where Coach Hammock is coming from. There’s real value in reminding people of the original intent of sport and the collegiate experience — growth in the individual, on and off the field. But in 2025, when athletes can rightfully be compensated for their abilities, it’s naïve (or willful ignorance) to chastise kids for leaving for better money elsewhere. And it’s a stretch to assume that the better-paying options don’t also come with life lessons.
The bigger problem for me is the assumption that any football program — and, from my TeamsOfMen perspective, all male athletics programs — automatically dispense lessons that “make them better husbands and fathers.” Let’s be honest: they spend 12-hour days on football scheme, body prep, and film study. Show me the areas in his program (and so many others) where there is intentional time devoted to character development — not just wishful hoping that through osmosis a young man will become a caretaker for his kids while being dog-cussed during a conditioning run.
If programs were actually investing in these “life lessons,” then the schools with bigger budgets should be better choices, because they could put more money and staff toward sessions that teach them. I know they don’t — they spend it on another film analyst, a run-game coordinator, or a nutrition expert.
And this is not a direct shot at Coach Hammock, but at coaches in general: if your program is truly a better place for young people to take on strife, learn resilience, and onboard father skills, then why didn’t this press conference include a clear outline of the specific programming and time allocated to those things? Most likely because it doesn’t exist. You simply have less money and are frustrated by that fact. Don’t sell me on altruistic sacrifice if there’s no actual different training happening. Otherwise, it’s the same old dictatorship coaching and football-only grind — only now the player gets less money to endure it.
Coach Prompts
If you say your program builds better husbands, fathers, and workers — where is that in the actual schedule?
How much intentional time per week is devoted to character development vs. football?
Are your “life lessons” measurable, or are they just assumed to happen through the sport?
If NIL programs aren’t teaching life skills, what makes yours different in a tangible way?
Player Prompts
Outside of football, what specific skills are you being taught to prepare for life after sport?
Are you being coached into manhood intentionally, or are you expected to figure it out on your own?
Your Acronym Might Not Mean What You Think It Does
I’ve seen it in my own coaching career — you fall in love with an acronym.
It’s catchy. It fits your vision. It looks great on a t-shirt or a locker room wall.
But here’s the problem: just because you say it doesn’t mean your program is living it. Without intentional teaching, without connecting it to real-life scenarios, that acronym can quietly undercut the very culture you’re trying to build.
That’s what my newest Medium article digs into: the hidden flaws in our beloved motivational acronyms and how to make sure they’re building — not breaking — your team’s culture.
Coach’s Prompt:
Pick one acronym you use in your program. Ask yourself: “Would my players live this out if there was no scoreboard?”
Player’s Prompt:
Think about the words your team uses to define itself. Which one actually shows up in your actions — and which one is just on the poster?
When ‘Watch Out for Women’ Becomes Manbox Training
I don’t think I’m breaking news here when I say:
A) This is the common perception of all professional male sports leagues — the “look at the b**ches they get” storyline.
B) For many young men, this is a common goal in chasing their sports dream — the manbox-fed belief that the reward for achievement is access to women’s bodies.
But what’s more alarming isn’t whether this stereotype is statistically accurate — it’s that so many in a male athlete’s ecosystem treat it as the norm. And even when we think we’re protecting our guys by saying “watch out,” we’re reinforcing a worldview that dehumanizes women.
Think about it — if I’m always saying, “Don’t put the pu**y on a pedestal” or “These h**s be plotting” — I’m teaching young men that:
Sex is a conquest without connection
Women are always “down for it” (erasing the concept of consent)
It’s a game to be won, not a relationship to be respected
Yes, there are people who seek to capitalize on athletes for financial gain. But if that’s the concern, then the advice isn’t to demonize all women — it’s to tell our guys:
Don’t look for intimacy on Instagram
Know yourself well enough to define what you want in a partner
Respect your body — don’t view it as something to give to anyone, anytime
When we treat fantasies as facts and inevitable truths, we strip players of agency in their decision-making. And if you need proof of how deep this narrative runs, just read the comments under that post — coaches, parents, and fans all chiming in like it’s gospel truth.
Coach Prompt:
How do you talk to your players about relationships and attraction without resorting to stereotypes or scare tactics about women? What’s a healthier framework you could use instead?
Player Prompt:
Think about your own goals beyond the game. What qualities would you want in a partner that have nothing to do with appearance or social media clout?
Friendship Is a Skill, Not a Biological Advantage
I was driving while listening to the podcast episode above, and after calming myself down from Simmons dropping my guy Dak Prescott into the third tier of his QB pyramid, I was excited to hear an actual (though probably unintentional) dive into a Man Box topic on a podcast that gets millions of listeners.
Things I resonated with:
NOT finding ways to align my friends’ schedules with mine more than 1–2 times per year (true whether it’s buddies from across the country or guys in the same city).
Remembering that in our 20s and early 30s, we were together in person a lot more.
Things I immediately wanted to “call in” and say, “No, guys—you’re presenting these as biological truths, when you’ve actually been socialized by the Man Box to believe and limit yourself with them”:
“Women are better at maintaining friendships” – No. Women have simply been allowed to cultivate in their souls the importance of friendship. We have the same tools; we just put them down to maintain some awful idea of alphaness.
“Is this guy trying to fight me if he looks at me” + “men don’t like sitting in a circle” – Horsesh*t. We’re uncomfortable because we haven’t repped it enough to see its benefits and the connection potential it creates.
Finally, I appreciated Simmons’ (again, probably unintentional) honesty:
“Yeah, you’re like, ‘Hey, I’m in town, can I come over?’ I was delighted.”
We do like seeing one another. We do like personal connection. And it’s OKAY to admit that.
🎧 Listen here at the 1:01 mark
Coach Prompts
When was the last time you reached out to a coaching peer just to connect—not for scouting or scheduling?
How might your coaching staff’s culture shift if in-person connection between staff members was as regular as your practice schedule?
What’s one “Man Box” belief about male friendship you’ve caught yourself reinforcing with your athletes?
Player Prompts
Who’s a teammate you like but haven’t hung out with outside of practice or games? Why not?
What would it look like if your friend group made connection a priority instead of an afterthought?
How do you feel when you’re in a “circle conversation” vs. watching something side-by-side? Which do you avoid, and why?
Cookies, Credit, and the Bare Minimum of Fatherhood
Today’s blog starts with a little trip back in time before we get to the now-viral image of Tim Tebow holding his newborn.
If you’re my age (46), you probably remember Chris Rock in his prime. On his (I think) 1995 Bring the Pain tour, Rock went on a rant about how you don’t get credit for doing things you are supposed to do. (In his voice: “What you want, a cookie? You’re not supposed to go to jail. You’re SUPPOSED to take care of your kids.”) Here’s the clip.
This Tebow picture SCREAMS that to me. And to be fair — he didn’t add the caption gushing about “humanizing fatherhood” or telling everyone to “get married, have kids.” But the way this is framed is the same tone I hear from a lot of MRA (men’s rights activist) circles: Look at this man doing something “unmanly” like holding his child — what a hero!
Tim Tebow is a dad. The least he can do is hold his damn child for a bit each day. And yes, shockingly (tongue firmly in cheek), he can look at a laptop screen at the same time.
As coaches, this image can be a conversation starter. Cover up the tweet caption, show just the picture, and ask: “What do you see?” Let players talk about the positives — loving your child, being present — while also surfacing and dismantling the manbox tropes that might come up: “Where’s his wife?” or “He should be out making money.”
Sometimes the most valuable conversation is the one that reveals which parts of the “default” narrative still need unlearning.
Coach Prompt:
Show your players the photo without the caption. Ask, “What do you see?” Listen for the full range of responses — both affirmations of fatherhood and any manbox-driven takes. Then unpack where those perceptions come from and what they reinforce.
Player Prompt:
When you picture being a father in the future, what’s something you want to be known for that isn’t about making money or physical strength? Why would that matter to your kids?
More Than Merch: How a Shirt Starts the Work
We just revamped our store on the TeamsOfMen site — and while yes, there’s a business side to that (TeamsOfMen is still a business), the bigger reason is that I wanted it to be easier for coaches to find the mantra T-shirt that truly fits them.
We’ve also rolled out bundles for coaches to use as awards for their players or campers — tied to the saying that best matches the trait they displayed. In my own program, I use Change Starts With Me to recognize our “effort champions” each month at every program level.
But this isn’t just about awards. I know some coaches are just dipping their toes into the water with us — and into the self-reflection work around their own masculinity. That first step takes courage, and I want to reward it. We have 11 designs, and I can almost guarantee one of them will speak to you. Grab it. Wear it to school. Wear it to the grocery store. Then wear it to practice. Someone’s going to ask you about it — and when they do, you’ll have to explain why it matters to you. That’s the launch point for raising your comfort level in having these conversations.
That’s the work. One T-shirt at a time. One conversation at a time. One vulnerable moment at a time.
And as a coach heading into my 24th season, I know the importance of repping us. On your order form, let us know if you want your team’s mascot or logo printed on the back neckline — we’ll make sure it’s there.
Coach Prompt:
Which mantra speaks to you right now — and why would you want your players to see you wearing it?
Player Prompt:
If your coach wore a shirt with a bold statement about values, what would you hope it says — and why?
Stop Handing Down Harm and Calling It Coaching
I saw this quote and the father in me — and the coach in me — both went straight into self-reflection mode.
It took me back to moments I’d love a do-over on. Moments where I know I defaulted to what I saw modeled for me — the raised voice, the intimidation, the “scare you straight” version of parenting I saw growing up. And on the court? Just as many. I can remember the times I went full rage mode on a player in a huddle or at halftime, thinking somehow that anger was the key to flipping a scoreboard.
Those moments are tough to sit with now. Embarrassing. Disappointing. But this quote didn’t let me off the hook — it lit a fire.
This isn’t about saying “I have demons, so it’s not my fault.” This is about doing the work. Naming the demons. Processing them. Owning what you’ve carried… so your children — and your players — don’t inherit it.
Just because old Coach Smith went scorched earth in the 90s doesn’t mean you get to do it in 2025. That dad, that coach, needs to be fired.
You are responsible for making sure your best self is the one that calls kids UP — not breaks them down.
Coach Prompt
What coaching behaviors do I excuse as “old school toughness” that are actually unhealed habits from someone else’s playbook?
Player Prompt
Can I name a moment when someone’s reaction to me felt way bigger than the situation — and what might’ve been underneath it?
No Time To Plan? We've Got You.
Let’s be real — if you’re coaching right now, your plate isn’t just full... it’s stacked like a Vegas buffet.
Game prep. Roster drama. Parents emailing about playing time. “And oh yeah, apparently Kip said I’m also supposed to build character?”
I hear it all the time:
"I want to build something deeper with my team... I just don’t have time to plan it all out."
You’re not lazy. You’re stretched.
So we built something that meets you where you are.
For the next two weeks only, you can grab a 3-Session Character Bundle from the TeamsOfMen system — designed to be:
-Plug-and-play
-Powerful
-On your clipboard this week
Here’s what’s inside:
*See It to Escape It
Help players name the invisible rules of the Man Box and take their first steps toward healthier masculinity.
*I Could / I Should / I Will
Get players owning their choices — and understanding how “I didn’t know” isn’t a valid excuse anymore.
*Words Matter
Teach the real origins behind the violent language we normalize in locker rooms — and show players how to rewrite the script.
These aren’t lectures. They’re team-building moments.
They’re the same sessions I use in-season with my own squad.
Coach Prompt:
What would it feel like to have 3 powerful sessions ready to run without losing hours to planning?
What might change in your team if we stopped saying “someday” and just started with three?
Player Prompt:
Where have you seen the Man Box show up in your life lately?
What’s one moment this week where “I Could... I Should... I Will” could help you lead with your values — not just follow the crowd?
Coaches: They’re Watching Even When They’re Not Asking
Yesterday I wore this shirt—"She is not your quick fix"—to our 90-minute open gym.
It’s not from our TeamsOfMen line, but from She Is Not Your Rehab—a movement I deeply respect (and recommend you check out). I didn’t build a conversation around the shirt during the session. I didn’t call attention to it. I just coached.
No one stopped to ask what the shirt meant.
No one pulled me aside.
No one said, “Coach, explain that.”
But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.
I’ve worn a lot of message shirts over the years. Some are our own mantra tees. Some are from other movements I believe in. And at this point, I think the guys are just used to it—used to looking up at Coach’s chest and seeing something worth thinking about.
And that’s the point.
Sometimes growth doesn’t look like a lightbulb moment. Sometimes curiosity takes a while to convert to courage. Especially for the younger guys—they may not even feel comfortable asking me about basketball yet, let alone masculinity and trauma recovery.
But here’s what I know:
I want to be a coach who’s always reppin’ what he believes in.
Even if they don’t say anything today, they’re watching. They’re logging it.
And one day, maybe it won’t surprise them to hear the words or see the message again—because they’ve been seeing it for years.
Yes, it would be amazing to wear a shirt that immediately shifts a kid’s worldview.
But I’ll take this too:
“My coach always stood on business. He showed us what mattered—consistently, without fear.”
I didn’t say a word. But I still coached.
Coach Prompt:
When was the last time your players saw you wear a message louder than your voice?
What are you silently modeling every day—on purpose or by accident?
Player Prompt:
If your coach never said a word, would you still know what he believes in?
What messages are you paying attention to without realizing it?
"It's Not That Deep" — And That's the Problem
Joey Mulinaro is hilarious.
His ability to impersonate famous sports figures — Nick Saban, Cris Collinsworth, and others — splits the needle between accurate and funny, which is exactly why he's become such a noteworthy comic voice.
And in this latest video? He nails it again. Not just because it’s funny — but because it’s dead-on true. That’s why I wanted to blog about it.
Because this?
This is EXACTLY what 90% of coaches (not just football coaches) sound like before the school year starts.
High school, college, middle school — soccer, cross country, basketball, football — this kind of speech shows up across the board. Coaches trying to establish standards for how players should act in school, in hallways, in life. And I genuinely believe that most of us say these things with good intentions. We believe coaching can help young people grow. We want to set the tone.
But this type of speech also becomes a convenient excuse.
It lets coaches check a box and say:
“See? We told them how to act.” Or even, “Our program already does your TeamsOfMen stuff, man.”
And this — right here — is where I push back.
Because if I told a football coach, “Hey, just tell your players once to keep outside leverage or we’ll give up a big play... then never rep it, never show film, never coach it again” — they’d laugh me out of the room.
We know that real development doesn’t happen from a single loud directive. We build skill through modeling, repetition, and reflection. We teach it.
So why are we content to say “Be respectful” or “Be nice to girls” one time at the start of the year... and then call it good?
Some might say: “Kip, chill. It’s satire. It’s not that deep.”
Exactly. Satire only works when it reflects truth. And if all we give our guys is a single, surface-level speech, then they’ll know — deep down — that we don’t really care about this stuff.
Because if we did, we’d teach it the same way we teach everything else we claim matters.
Coach Prompt:
Would you ever say something once and expect perfect execution on the field? Why do we think one preseason speech is enough to shape how our athletes treat school, each other, or themselves?
Player Prompt:
Do your actions in the hallway match what you say in the huddle? What parts of the “team standard” are easy to perform at practice but harder to live out when no one’s watching?
Culture You Brag About vs. Climate You Can’t Hide
I saw this clip of Saquon Barkley with the Eagles — warning his teammates during warm-ups, “I’m mic’d up.”
It made me think about how often we as coaches go all-in on the importance of culture. After a big win, someone on staff or on the team is quick to credit the culture. And sure, there’s truth in that.
But here’s what gets lost: we’ve turned “culture” into a catch-all phrase. What it often leaves out is climate — the sounds, the language, the way it actually feels to be around our players and coaches.
Because if Barkley fully believed the “sounds of the Eagles” were something to showcase, he wouldn’t need to warn anyone. That warning says something. Sure, maybe 25% of it is about protecting private info. But the other 75%? Likely about shielding the public from banter that wouldn’t hold up to the light of day.
And that’s where the real issue is. People defend it as “locker room talk.” But what sits in that gray zone of “not okay for society, but somehow fine for men in a locker room”? Almost always language and behaviors steeped in misogyny, ignorance, or Man Box policing.
That’s the problem. And every time a player warns his teammates about being mic’d up, it reinforces my point.
Coach Prompt:
If your players were mic’d up at practice tomorrow, would you feel pride in what others hear — or panic about what might get exposed?
Player Prompt:
Would you need to warn your teammates if you were mic’d up? What does that say about the climate you’re helping create?
Foggy Isn’t Lazy & Frozen Isn’t Defiant.
I read something today that hit hard.
An Edutopia article by Clementina Jose titled Recognizing and Addressing Emotional Overload to Better Support Students explored how students’ behavior is often misunderstood. Every sentence felt like it could’ve been about us as coaches.
Especially this one:
“These assumptions, while often made out of genuine concern or exhaustion, are typically rooted in a misunderstanding of what we are actually witnessing: not defiance, not disinterest, but emotional overload.”
I’ve said those things. Heard them in film sessions. Felt them after a sloppy practice.
“He’s just being lazy.”
“He’s not pushing himself.”
“He doesn’t care.”
But what if we’re wrong?
What if that stillness, silence, or shut-down look we label as laziness… is actually the body protecting itself? A freeze response. An emotional overload.
What if motivation isn’t just mindset, but also emotional capacity?
This is where emotional fluency has to live in our programs. We’re failing our players if we don’t teach them how to recognize what’s happening inside—and how to say it out loud in ways that don’t cost them respect, playing time, or their spot.
We train them in game communication. Why wouldn’t we train them for this?
Whether it's “I’m buffering,” “I’m in turtle mode,” or just “I need a sec,” we can build program language—mantras and cues that normalize overwhelm without excusing disengagement.
Coach Prompt:
Think back to a moment this past season when you thought a player was being lazy or disengaged. Could it have been emotional overload? How might you ask differently next time?
Player Prompt:
What’s one short phrase or cue you’d feel comfortable saying when your brain feels foggy or overwhelmed? How could we all respect that signal without judgment?
Be sure to read the full article (link to in first paragraph)
"Cool Post" or Cultural Blind Spot? Why I’m Not Sold on the NFL’s Latest Leadership Clubhouse
First of all, the algorithm is EVERYWHERE. This post popped up in my Instagram scroll today—even though I don’t follow the account. And how could it not? It’s about the NFL, it’s about culture in athletics, and it’s supposedly a way to expand athlete success off the field as well. Seems like a no-brainer “cool post” for me and TeamsOfMen, right?
Not exactly.
Where I take issue is two-fold:
First, the title—“A Clubhouse for Athletes”—makes me very wary. Why? Because without intentional deprogramming and unlearning, clubhouses, locker rooms, and team rooms are often CESSPOOLS for the perpetration of violence, bullying, and Man Box posturing by the male athletes who call those places home. People tell me all the time, “We got good kids.” And while I want to believe them, I also know that if we borrowed Susan Richards’ invisible powers from the Fantastic Four, we’d be appalled by what’s said and done in those rooms when we’re not there.
So just making “a clubhouse for athletes” a goal—without naming what’s actually inside those rooms? That’s worrisome for me.
Second, the first comment by the account itself—“Athletes make better leaders”—is IFFY at best, if not just flat-out wrong. Most team rooms are full of followers or obediently silent team members. The so-called “leaders” in the space are often the ones steeped in Man Box intimidation tactics, policing others with awful stereotypes about what type of man is allowed in the room. “No pussies.” “No fags.” “No softness.” Just a few of the exclusionary phrases you’ll hear echo in sport culture’s team rooms.
Sure—there can be great leaders. There can be galvanizers in those spaces. But what they lead others toward—or demand from them in tribute—is not inherently good. And it sure as hell isn’t better than what non-athlete spaces might produce.
We’d LOVE to change that with the work we do.
But we’re not there yet.
And from what I can see, this doesn’t appear to be a program that is either.
Coach Prompt:
What assumptions are we making when we claim our team rooms produce “better leaders”? Are we mistaking silence or obedience for growth?
Player Prompt:
If someone could hear everything that gets said in your locker room, would you be proud of it—or would you be hoping they missed the worst parts?
“Support Isn’t Shelter”
Yesterday my youngest turned 13—so instead of a full blog, my energy (and reflection) went into finishing Part Six of The Mirror Project on Medium.
This piece is a response to Jessica Grose’s recent New York Times column challenging the idea of a “boy crisis.” I found myself nodding along—and also pushing back hard on the deeper problem: the outdated scripts we still hand to boys, and the assumptions we make about how to help them.
Huge thanks to Elizabeth Kennedy, prevention professional and friend, for putting Grose’s article on my radar. This reflection wouldn’t exist without that nudge.
Full piece here: https://kioane.medium.com/
Coach Prompt:
When you say you're “supporting your guys,” are you shielding them—or stretching them? What’s one way you can hold the bar with them instead of lowering it for them?
Player Prompt:
What’s something you’ve avoided trying hard at—because it might make you look soft, nerdy, or weak?
What would it look like to push anyway?
Not a Vibe. A System.
Photo caption: My literal desk yesterday — one screen with our 2025–26 Varsity/JV plan, the other with a calendar open. Printed session trackers from last season scattered below, next to shirt mockups and a Canva template for a “Meet the Moment” slide.
This was the arena yesterday as I sat down to finalize the TeamsOfMen calendar for my entire South Salem Boys Basketball program. I’m not sharing it to give you our plan session by session — I’m sharing it to show you two key things:
1. This process is intentional.
It’s informed by data (what worked, what didn’t) and structure (what every tier of your program needs next). Just like you wouldn’t roll into practice without a plan, you can’t build character without a calendar.
2. This isn’t my first rodeo.
While it’s only year two for me at South, it’s year 14 overall of building a tiered, progressive system to help young men grow a reimagined masculinity — first as a college coach, now in high school.
And yes, it takes time. Yes, it takes reflection. Yes, it takes actual building.
You have to map out what your 1st-year players need for a foundation — but you also have to make sure your 2nd, 3rd, and 4th years don’t sit through the same session three times. You have to decide when you should present… when they should lead… and when your staff should step in.
You have to think through:
Where do peer-led presentations happen?
What role do mantra shirts play in sparking conversations?
Can JV2 players reflect without needing Varsity present?
What’s the cadence? Weekly? Bi-weekly? Postgame? Pre-practice?
You’ve asked all these questions before —when you built your offense, when you planned your travel itinerary, when you drew up your skill development blocks.
This isn’t new work — it’s just new context.
And if you're thinking “Damn… that seems like a lot…”
You're right.
It is.
But it’s what I do.
That’s why I built TeamsOfMen the business.
To do this with you — or for you — based on what you and your players need. I’ve spent 15 years designing character calendars. With a license, you don’t start from scratch. You start from what’s already proven.
Coach Prompt:
Look at your calendar.
Where’s your offense? Defense? Skill blocks?
Now show me your character plan.
If you don’t see one, your team doesn’t feel one.
Player Prompt:
Which moment last season did you fail to meet well?
How would you prepare differently if you knew it was coming again?
Spoiler alert: It is.
Want the calendar I built above?
Shoot me a message — or license TeamsOfMen and let’s build yours together.
Because character isn’t just taught. It’s scheduled.
“Chest Out. Heart Open.”
Reclaiming a Phrase. Redefining Strength.
It started with a phrase I’ve heard too many times to count.
“Say it with your chest.”
In locker rooms. On sidelines. During arguments.
It shows up as a challenge — a demand to speak louder, bolder, more aggressively. A posture meant to intimidate. A dare to escalate. And most dangerously, a test of whether someone is “man enough” to back up their words.
But what if that phrase didn’t have to mean what it always has?
What if the chest wasn’t a symbol of puffed-up pride or inflexibility, but a container for belief, conviction, and emotional fluency?
When I sat down to flip that phrase, here’s where I landed:
The chest isn’t where we store ego. It’s where we hold heart.
It’s not a billboard for bravado — it’s an anchor for values.
And “saying it with your chest” isn’t about volume anymore. It’s about alignment.
I don’t want our players — or any young man in this work — thinking they have to perform manhood when things get hard. That’s the trap. That’s what leads to harm.
I want them living from a place that’s rooted in something real. Something that doesn’t need to shouted out to be true. Something that holds empathy and strength in the same space.
So we turned all that into a shirt. It’s bold enough to wear. And if you let it — it’ll challenge you to grow into it too.
CHEST OUT. HEART OPEN.
Not puffed to intimidate.
Expanded to make room for what matters: Empathy, compassion and connection.
Coach Prompt #1:
Who on your roster has already earned this shirt? Who do you want to grow toward it?
And what would it mean to order these for your whole program — and then take a moment to explain why before handing them out?
Want to order?
Single shirts: Click here
Bundles for teams/schools: Fill out this form
Custom option: Add your school or program logo to the back neckline
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The Program Is a Family? Then Show Me the Love.
The post above from Twitter made me dig deeper into both the quote and the man behind it — and reflect hard on something I hear constantly in coaching circles:
“We’re a family.”
“These are my sons.”
“This program is my home.”
I genuinely believe that many of us mean those words. I’ll even grant that the intention behind them is often good — we get into this work because we want to provide belonging, connection, and growth for young men through the sport we love.
But if what Terrence Real says is true — that “the key component of a boy’s healthy relationship to his father is affection, not ‘masculinity’” — then we have to pause and ask:
What is the actual impact of how we run these “families”?
Authoritarian coaching might’ve felt normal to us, but the “because I said so” model isn’t raising better men. It’s just recycling harm and dressing it up in discipline.
It’s not your presence that makes you a father figure — it’s your ability to show love. To be emotionally fluent. To create safety and trust, not fear and obedience.
You yelling at him like your old coach yelled at you? That’s not preparing him for the world — it’s prepping him to repeat cycles of harm. He’ll leave your program more armored up, less connected, and with no reps in how to build a relationship rooted in care.
This realization doesn’t have to feel like a takedown. It can be the spark for a new challenge. A shift. A reboot.
Imagine building your practice plan around this question:
How did we show love to our guys today?
Imagine your staff meetings asking:
Where did we coach connection alongside correction?
That’s still coaching. That’s still calling them up to better. That’s still meaningful.
But it’s also the kind of work that might actually make your program feel like the family you keep saying it is.
Coach Prompt:
How often do we say we “love” our players — but never actually show it in a way they can recognize, feel, or carry with them into adulthood?
Player Prompt:
What kind of coaching makes you feel seen, supported, and trusted — not just as an athlete, but as a human being?
“No Disrespect” Usually Means BRACE YOURSELF for Disrespect
Today’s blog is reacting to and framing the recent controversy surrounding new FSU QB Tommy Castellanos.
He made headlines after saying of their Week 1 opponent Alabama:
“Those guys don’t have Nick Saban to save them anymore.”
The quote drew enough attention to earn a top spot on ESPN.com. When asked about the blowback, Castellanos doubled down:
“We stand on what I said… I don’t mean no disrespect to none of those guys at Alabama or anything like that. I have confidence in my guys and the work we’ve been putting in… That’s all that was.”
And when I read those words, I HEAR so many young men. I hear adult men. I hear the classic setup:
“No disrespect, but…”
“Not to offend anyone, but…”
“Not to sound [insert ism you know is harmful], but…”
Before they launch straight into saying the very thing they claimed they didn’t want to do.
These qualifiers aren’t a hall pass. They don’t soften the blow — they signal you knew what you were about to say was out of bounds. Worse, they often reveal that the harm was intentional, not accidental.
And then there's this:
“I stand on what I said.”
It’s another Man Box defense mechanism. Instead of owning that we messed up, we double down — we cling to bravado instead of choosing unlearning.
But what if we did own it?
“Yes, I disrespected my opponent. I was trying to build confidence in my team, but I chose the wrong path. Next time, I’ll be direct and say: ‘I believe in us. We’re ready.’”
Say it with your chest — but don’t mistake hurtful for heartfelt.
This is an EASY TeamsOfMen session for coaches to run — both in the literal (how do we honor our opponent while still trying to beat them?) and in the broader context (do we think qualifiers erase harm or signal insecurity?). The answer should be the same in both: speak with clarity, not camouflage.
Coach Prompt:
How often do we hear our players preface a comment with “no disrespect” or “I don’t mean it like that”? What does that signal to us — and how do we coach them past it?
Player Prompt:
When have you used a phrase like “I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but…” — and then said something that clearly was? Why did you say it like that? What would ownership — real ownership — have looked like instead?
“We’re Either More Than Our Urges… or We’re Lying to Ourselves.”
I think content like this—a meme, a screenshot, a quick-hit post—is best used while standing beside or sitting among your players when you put it up on screen. That setup matters. It frames you as someone reacting with them, not at them. It helps defuse defensiveness before it shuts down the moment.
Phrases like:
“How does this hit you?”
“I know where I stand on this, but I want to hear from you first”
...can open space for them to grapple with what’s being said, instead of gearing up to dismiss it.
That said—I’m not interested in coddling our guys through these conversations. I do believe in their capacity to grow and to change. But I’m not buying the rising tide of grievance-driven male victimhood that says we have to sugarcoat basic truth. Past generations of men did cause harm. And our young men are not fragile—they’re capable of rising above the scars left behind.
In terms of the teaching point here:
How many times have they heard someone say women are to blame for what happens to them, based on what they wore or how they acted?
How often are they told that men are the more logical sex—that we can be trusted to remain calm and in control?
Do they see the contradiction?
That’s when I’d say this plainly:
“I believe we are more than some Neanderthal collection of urges. I believe we are capable of being attracted to someone and still knowing how to act. And because I believe that, I expect you to live up to it—on this team and beyond it.”
Coach Prompt:
When was the last time you challenged the idea that “boys will be boys”? How do you help your players see themselves as more than just their impulses?
Player Prompt (Optional):
Have you ever heard someone say a woman “was asking for it” based on what she wore? What did you think or feel in that moment—and did you say anything? Why or why not?