When people find out I played in the NHL, the first question I usually get is:
“How many fights did you have?”
And yeah, it’s true — I fought my way to the top. I earned a role as an enforcer, and I took it seriously. I trained like a savage, bled for my teammates, and fought giants night after night. It was brutal. It was real. It was my job.
But here’s the honest truth I need you to hear:
I don’t recommend that path.
I didn’t start playing hockey to be a fighter. I played because I loved it. Because scoring a goal lit my soul on fire. Because there’s nothing like flying down the ice with your heart pounding and the crowd roaring.
But somewhere along the line, I got labeled. I hit hard. I played with fury. Coaches saw that and said: “That’s what you’re good at. Be the tough guy.”
So I did.
And yeah, I got really good at it. I trained MMA. I studied fight tape. I lived in the gym. I became one of the best at what I did.
But here’s what nobody talks about:
The fear. The anxiety. The pressure.
I used to feel sick before games, not because of the game itself — but because I knew a fight was coming. Because I had to drop the gloves and survive. Because I didn’t want to let my team down. I was living the dream... but sometimes it felt more like a nightmare.
And I can’t help but wonder…
What if I had trained just as hard on my hands — not for punches, but for passing?
What if I had poured my heart into stickhandling, forechecking, and PK instead of uppercuts and jab steps?
What kind of player could I have become?
I’m not ashamed of my story.
I’m not bitter about my path.
But I want to offer you something I didn’t have:
Permission to choose your own role.
You don’t have to fight to matter. You don’t have to chuck knuckles to make it.
Your value isn’t measured by penalty minutes or highlight reel hits.
It’s measured by how much you love the game — and how much of yourself you’re willing to give.
So find what you’re good at. Build it into a superpower. Own it.
But make sure it’s your choice — not a coach’s, not a scout’s, not anyone else’s.
Because someday, like me, you’ll be looking back on it all.
And when that day comes, I want you to smile. No regrets. No what-ifs. Just peace.
Go be a savage out there — on your terms.
—Bobby Robins
Author, ex hockey pro