The greatest players earn both. Here’s how.
When I was a kid, I went to hockey camp in Eagle River, Wisconsin, and my only goal was to win the camp MVP trophy.
I was a naturally talented hockey player, and I matched that God-given talent with a drive and determination I can’t quite explain. I developed it later in my career into a sharpened weapon, but even as a kid, something inside me burned to win.
And I loved trophies. I loved awards. I loved that moment when someone, a coach, a scout, a camp counselor, recognized my talent. Maybe I was searching for validation, maybe not, but all I ever wanted to do was win.
I’ll never forget one summer at that hockey school. The week was over, and it was time for the big moment, the award ceremony. There was the Hardest Worker Award, the Most Improved Player Award, and then came the one I’d been waiting for, Camp MVP.
I’d won it the summer before, so I figured I was a lock to win it again.
I watched as one of the instructors grabbed the trophy and picked up the microphone to announce the winner. The parents were in the stands. All the players were lined up, buzzing with excitement.
I was ready to skate to center ice and grab my trophy when I heard the coach call a name I didn’t recognize.
Wait a minute. He didn’t say “Bobby Robins.”
He said some other kid’s name.
Don’t get me wrong, that kid was a really good player. But I thought I was better. I thought I deserved it. And right there, in front of everyone, I did what any ten-year-old kid would do. I started crying.
I couldn’t stop the tears. I felt embarrassed, rejected, and crushed. I tried to hold it together, but I was broken inside.
Still, I went over to the kid who won, gave him a teary high five, and told him good job. I was happy for him, but I was heartbroken.
As I skated off the ice, one of the camp coaches came over to me and said something I’ll never forget.
He said, “Bobby, be feared and respected by your opponents AND your teammates.”
Feared and respected.
Opponents and teammates.
That phrase hit me like a puck to the chest.
I understood the first part. Of course I wanted my opponents to fear me. I loved playing an intense, physical, honorable game. I wanted to be respected for how hard I played and the heart I brought to every shift.
But being feared and respected by my teammates? That part didn’t click until later.
When I started climbing the ranks from high school to junior to college to the pros, I finally understood what that coach meant.
It’s not about intimidating your teammates or fighting them. It’s about setting a standard. It’s about being the guy who brings it every single day, who competes so hard in practice that everyone else has to rise with you.
When your teammates know you’re coming full speed every drill, every puck battle, every shift, that’s when they start to fear you in the right way. They know they can’t take a rep off when you’re on the ice. They know you’re not letting anyone slide.
And in that same moment, they respect you. Because you make them better.
That’s how great players are built, by sharpening each other through competition and consistency.
So I learned two huge lessons that summer in Eagle River.
First, I learned that I wasn’t the best player on the ice, and that if I wanted it, I had to earn it every single time.
Second, I learned to use the pain of losing, the sting of failure, the tears, the embarrassment, as fuel.
As I got older, I stopped crying when I didn’t win the trophy or the game, but that same deep emotion never left. I carried it inside me, turned it into fire, and used it every practice, every shift, every season.
No matter what, I brought all of me into the rink. Every ounce. Every drop.
And I can tell you this, it struck fear into some of my teammates, and I know it struck fear into my opponents. But it also earned me their respect.
Because when you give everything you’ve got, every day, people notice. They might not hand you the trophy, but they’ll never forget how you played.
So remember this the next time you lace up your skates:
Be feared and respected.
By your opponents.
By your teammates.
By yourself.
That’s how you become a player everyone remembers.
Savage Shift Challenge:
This week, raise your standard.
Compete in every drill like it’s a game.
Earn your teammates’ respect by how hard you work and how consistent you are.
If they start to fear how relentless you are in practice, good.
That means you’re doing it right.
Be feared. Be respected. Be remembered.
—
Bobby Robins
Savage Motivator, Ex Hockey Pro, Writer for Wraparound
P.S. Share this message with someone who needs to hear it. Be feared and respected by your opponents AND your teammates.