Mindset
Toughness vs. Bullying
“ Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
– Martin Luther King, Jr.
I spent eleven years working in the NHL. I saw some great hockey players… and some not-so-great ones. But what stood out more than anything was witnessing real toughness—and the opposite of it: bullying.
The irony?
The toughest guys on the ice were often the kindest, most grounded people off it. They didn’t puff their chests or throw their weight around—they didn’t need to. You just knew not to mess with them. It’s a generalization, sure, but more often than not, it held true.
I remember being a kid, watching the Montreal Canadiens play the Philadelphia Flyers—known back then as the “Broad Street Bullies.” And the poster boy for their style of play was Dave “The Hammer” Schultz.
I never met Schultz off the ice, so I can’t speak to the man. But I did meet his hockey foil: Larry “Big Bird” Robinson.
Larry was everything Schultz wasn’t. A Hall of Famer. A towering defenseman with more Stanley Cups than most could dream of. One of the highest-scoring blueliners in league history. But what really set him apart was his legitimate toughness.
There’s a moment from the 1973-74 season I’ll never forget. A bench-clearing brawl erupted when Schultz knocked out Canadiens defenceman John Van Boxmeer with a sucker punch. The whole thing turned into chaos. But Larry didn’t hesitate. He stepped in, handled Schultz, and made it clear that some lines weren’t going to be crossed without consequence.
Police were actually called in the end to break it all up!
Another time, in the ‘76 playoffs, Larry hammered Flyers forward Gary Dornhoefer with a clean, thunderous hit that shifted the tone of the series. It was a message: we’re not here to play your game. And it helped tilt the series back to the Canadiens.
So, what is legitimate toughness?
It’s not loud. It doesn’t seek control through fear. It’s calm, rooted in self-respect, and commands respect in return. It knows when to be strong, and when to be soft. It’s a quiet confidence that can hold the line—but also shake your hand, smile, and mean it.
Larry had that. No one challenged him lightly. But off the ice? He was gracious, warm, generous. He didn’t act tough. He just was tough—when it mattered.
I see that same kind of toughness in people like Brianna St. Marie. I worked with her through a Reconditioning project a few summers ago. Former rugby player, now a world-class jiu-jitsu athlete. She’s an absolute force—but also respectful, humble, and full of light. She knows when to be fierce and when to be tender. That’s legitimate toughness.
And it matters—especially now.
In a world where bullying seems to be creeping back into leadership—through mocking, intimidation, gaslighting, and power plays—we need to remember what real strength looks like.
Real leadership doesn’t rely on fear. It holds presence without theatrics. It’s grounded, respectful, and resilient. It doesn’t go looking for a fight—but it’s always ready to stand tall when one comes.
Bullies might control the room for a while, but eventually people see through it. They appease, avoid, or withdraw… until the bully is left with nothing. And history doesn’t remember them kindly.
Larry Robinson is remembered as a legend. Schultz? A footnote from a different era.
And yet, somehow, bullying keeps trying to make a comeback—like it’s a default setting we haven’t outgrown.
But the truth is: the world doesn’t need more bullies.
It needs more Larry Robinsons.
