There’s something about being on the field that strips you down to your rawest self. The pressure, the stakes, the grind—it’s all there, hanging on every play. For me, though, it wasn’t just the physical toll that pushed me to my limit. It was the mental challenge. As a player for the Calgary Stampeders, I had to learn how to take the heat, not just from the opponents but from my coach, Jacques Chapdelaine, who wasn’t afraid to let me know when I was falling short.
I’ll never forget the first time he came at me hard. We were in the middle of a tough practice, and I thought I was doing just fine. That’s when he snapped. “This is embarrassing,” he said. “You need to know the playbook.
How am I gonna feed my kids? Come on, Brian, get your shit together!” His voice was sharp, filled with frustration, and it stung. I didn’t get it at first. All I could think was, “I’m trying my best. What more do you want from me?” But that wasn’t the point. He didn’t just want me to try; he wanted me to be prepared.
It wasn’t a one-time thing either. That kind of intensity became a regular feature of my experience under Coach Chapdelaine. He wasn’t afraid to get in my face, to tell me when I wasn’t living up to his standards. “How am I supposed to feed my kids if you’re not doing your part?” he’d say. It was brutal.
It felt personal. But it wasn’t until halfway through the season that I had the nerve to confront him about it. I asked him why he was always coming down so hard on me. That’s when he told me something that completely shifted my perspective: “If I don’t yell at you, if I don’t get on your case, that’s the day I stop caring. That’s when you should worry.”
And it hit me like a ton of bricks. Coach Chapdelaine wasn’t yelling at me because he wanted to break me down. He was doing it because he believed in me. He wanted me to be the best version of myself, and he wasn’t going to settle for anything less.
His approach was tough, no doubt, but it was rooted in care. It wasn’t just about football. It was about pushing me to become someone who didn’t settle for mediocrity, someone who could take the heat and come out stronger.
This tough-love approach wasn’t just about me as a player on the field—it was about me as a person. And I see that now, years later, in a way I couldn’t fully understand back then. We get so caught up in the immediate sting of criticism, in the moment of being pushed beyond what we think we can handle, that we don’t realize the bigger picture. The people who push us hardest are often the ones who care the most.
In life, especially in the professional world, it’s easy to mistake criticism for a personal attack. People get soft these days, and that’s not conducive to success. If someone stops challenging you, stops pushing you to do better, that’s when you should worry. That’s when you should ask yourself if they still care. If they stop yelling at you, stop challenging you, it’s because they’ve written you off. And if they write you off, it’s not just your career that’s in trouble—it’s your growth as a person.
Looking back, I realize that the hardest lessons were the ones that hurt the most in the moment. The times when Coach Chapdelaine laid into me, when I felt like I was at my breaking point, those were the times that pushed me to be better. He wasn’t doing it to tear me down; he was doing it to build me up.
He was demanding more because he knew I could give more. And that’s the kind of mentorship that changes you. The kind of mentorship that makes you realize that, in the long run, someone getting in your face isn’t a sign of disrespect—it’s a sign of belief.
When you’re in a relationship, whether it’s with a coach, a boss, or anyone in a position of authority, it’s easy to mistake their challenge for hostility. But the real test of a mentor, a leader, or anyone who’s invested in your success, is whether they’ll push you when you’re at your lowest. Will they get in your face when you need it most? Will they demand more when you’re comfortable with less? That’s when you know they care. That’s when you know they’re pushing you not just because they want results, but because they want you to be your absolute best.
That’s what Coach Chapdelaine did for me. He yelled, he demanded, and he pushed. But it wasn’t because he wanted me to fail—it was because he knew I had more in me. And that’s the kind of care you can’t mistake. It might sting in the moment, but years later, you realize it’s exactly what you needed.
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