The inaugural Varsity season of high school lacrosse at Georgetown Prep was an experience unlike any other.  We had a few players who actually understood the game and had some level of exposure to the sport.  But for the most part, the team was comprised of untamed football players and morbidly curious athletes captivated by this “new” activity.    And that led to all sorts of calamitous outcomes.

Was it legal to stiff-arm an opposing defender?  Was it good form to launch head-first into a charging mid-fielder? When a goalie made a save, was it shrewd to have him throw the ball as far as he could down toward the other goal?  It is a little-known fact that a player can actually foul out of a lacrosse game (I may or may not be speaking from experience.)  We didn’t know the rules and didn’t particularly care.  And while we were able to overcome some teams with sheer athleticism and ferocity, most teams would out finesse us make us look foolish.  There is no substitute for experience.

During one particularly forgettable game, we were once again winning the physical battle.  Several concussive collisions and slashes (most of which resulted in penalties) established us as the dominant team.  However, the game is not measured by the number of hits.  At the end of the day, a team needs to score goals.  And since we couldn’t throw or catch the ball without it turning into a rugby scrum, it didn’t look good for us.  We were thoroughly outclassed and the other team moved the ball with precision and confidence.  At the end of the first half, we trudged off the field embarrassed and dejected.  The scoreboard highlighted the humiliating 15-1 deficit.

There was no chance of a comeback, and everyone in the stadium knew it.  We looked to our coach for some level of encouragement; some reason to take the field in the second half.  And that’s when it happened.

“We have them right where we want them!”

Huh?  Was he serious?  Apparently, he was. 

“Only 14 more goals and we are RIGHT BACK in this game!”

The Lombardi-esque delivery was appreciated.  The absurdity of the message was not.  After a brief silence, one of our defenders burst into laughter.  Then the whole team joined in.  The message fell flatter than a pancake.

Given the incredible disparity in talent and the massive chasm to cross, victory wasn’t an achievable outcome.  The message wasn’t rooted in sincerity.

And that’s a good lesson for all of us to avoid when leading a team of any kind in our personal and professional lives.

Blind Positivity Doesn’t Motivate

We’ve all seen versions of that halftime speech play out far beyond a high school lacrosse field.  In business, it shows up when leadership leans on empty optimism instead of honest clarity. A company misses its numbers for the third straight quarter, morale is slipping, and employees are quietly worried about layoffs. The response?

“Everything is great—we just need to push a little harder!”

No acknowledgment of reality. No transparency. No plan.

Employees don’t feel inspired—they feel dismissed. The disconnect erodes trust, and once trust is gone, resilience follows close behind. Because resilience isn’t built on blind positivity—it’s built on a shared understanding of the challenge ahead.

That gap—between words and actions—is where sincerity breaks down. And when that happens, people stop buying in. They stop stretching. They stop caring as much as they should.

Sincerity Drives Action

The same dynamic plays out in personal relationships.  It’s not the absence of perfect solutions that damages a relationship—it’s the absence of sincerity. People don’t expect us to have all the answers. But they do expect us to show up honestly.

Sometimes, we need someone to be straight with us. Sometimes, we need to hear that we are behind, and we aren’t going to catch up.  Sometimes, we need to hear that we need to switch tracks entirely in order to get ahead.  Sincere leadership, whether business or personal, doesn’t require the perfect message—but it requires an honest one.

Resilience Isn’t Built on Spin

Resilient teams, resilient organizations, and resilient relationships all share one common thread: trust. And trust is built when leaders are willing to be both honest and hopeful at the same time.

Not “we have them right where we want them,” but “we’re behind—and here’s how we respond, regardless of the final outcome.”

In the end, people don’t follow perfection.  They follow authenticity.

At some point, we will all be down 14 goals in life.   We will be searching for a reason to move forward and maximize effort despite the inevitable outcome.  During these times, resilience isn’t built on spin—it’s built on honesty, clarity, and the decision to keep competing anyway.

Isn’t that what life is all about?