Leadership is a contact sport

Before I became a CEO and executive coach, I was a boxer. Not a hobbyist. A real one. Regional amateur champion. Long hours. Real hits. Bloody noses. Quiet wins. Humbling losses.

And while I never expected boxing to follow me into boardrooms, coaching sessions, and leadership retreats, it did. Because leadership, like boxing, isn’t just about talent. It’s about toughness.

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Not the kind that shows up on posters or in highlight reels. I’m talking about resilience — the kind that keeps you getting back up when everything in you says to stay down.

When I first started boxing, you weren’t even allowed to spar until you had a minimum of three training sessions. After I got through those, they paired me up to spar with the amateur heavyweight champion. I took one look at the guy and said yes — no hesitation. I was bigger. I had a football and basketball background. I just knew this would be easy. 

Sigh. I was wrong.

He beat the brakes off me. Clean. Controlled. Brutal. I took the beating, but I made a promise to myself that day: That would never happen again.

So I started training — six days a week, two sessions a day. No excuses. No shortcuts. Just discipline and drive. Five months later, I sparred with him again.

This time, the roles were reversed. 

That process taught me something I’ve never forgotten — not just about boxing, but about leadership: You can’t shortcut growth. You have to earn your edge.

That first sparring session taught me more than just the importance of training. He didn’t look like much. Didn’t have the flash. Didn’t talk much. But he had something I didn’t that day — focus, grit, and the patience to wait for me to make a mistake. And I made more mistakes than I would like to admit.

I was already in trouble in the first round. That was one of the earliest — and most important — lessons I learned in the ring: Never judge your opponent by how they look. Never underestimate anyone — not your competitor, not your circumstance, and definitely not yourself.

Because most of the time, your biggest opponent isn’t the person across from you.
It’s the one inside you. Your ego. Your fear. Your excuses. That voice that says, “You’ve done enough,” when you haven’t. The one that says, “You’re not ready,” when you are. Leadership works the same way.

It’s less about how strong you look, and more about how strong you stay when things get ugly. Because they will. I’ve been hit in the face — literally and figuratively. And here’s the truth: Your emotions will lie to you.

Anger wants to take over. Pride wants to swing wild. But leadership means discipline. When things fall apart, when you're blindsided, when criticism stings or betrayal lands, you don’t lead out of emotion. You lead out of purpose.

You stay anchored. You breathe. You remember the plan — and if the plan's broken, you trust the people who can see more than you can in the moment.

In boxing, like in leadership, things move fast. You’re in it. You can’t always see what’s happening around you. That’s why you trust your corner. That quiet voice in your ear between rounds saying: “Watch the left. Keep your hands up. Stay focused.”

Every great leader needs a corner — someone who’s not impressed by you, not intimidated by you, and not afraid to tell you the truth. Greatness doesn’t happen alone. And wisdom doesn’t come from just throwing punches — it comes from listening when it counts.

But even with a strong corner, the fight wears on you. Fatigue is real. Vince Lombardi said it best: “Fatigue makes cowards of us all.” That’s why you need conditioning. Reps. Experience.

Because if you haven’t been through it, you’ll think you can just show up and perform. But the truth is, the fight is won in the boring stuff — the roadwork, the bag drills, the early mornings, the reps no one claps for.

Same with leadership. It’s the email you didn’t want to send. The hard conversation you had anyway. The staff member you chose to mentor. The details you checked — again. The values you upheld when it would’ve been easier not to.

Consistency beats charisma. Hard work beats hype. And hard work, consistency, and character beat talent — every time.

But even the best work ethic won’t matter without direction.You need a plan. Life will hit you in the face. Leadership will, too.

Like Mike Tyson said: “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” That punch might be a failed product launch. A broken partnership. A mistake that costs you trust.

So what then? If you’ve done the work — built your rhythm, trained in your discipline, trusted your corner, and stayed focused when it wasn’t glamorous — you’ll have something to stand on.

If not? You’ll fold. That’s why I keep coming back to this: Leadership isn’t about how loud you are. It’s about how anchored you are. How resilient. How honest. How willing you are to keep showing up when everything in you wants to quit.

Real leaders don’t just throw punches. They take them and keep leading anyway. Taking the hit is one thing. Showing up afterward — that’s what sets real leaders apart.

So yeah — boxing taught me how to fight. But more than that, it taught me how to lead. Not by being the strongest in the room. But by being the most prepared. The most consistent. The most grounded.

So the question isn’t, Can you take a hit?

It is: Will you keep showing up when you do?

About the author

Henry Sanders is the CEO of Madison365, founder of the 365 Leadership Summit, and an executive coach who helps leaders navigate transitions, build trust, and lead with lasting impact — not just surface-level performance. Just stepped into a new leadership role — or preparing for one? Start with a free 15-minute Leadership Audit: a no-pressure session designed to help you clarify your next 100 days and lead with presence, not panic. To schedule your session or learn more about executive coaching, email [email protected]. And don’t miss the 365 Leadership Summit on November 3 — where real leaders come together to build what lasts. Visit 365Leadershipsummit.org to register.

Instagram: @Henry_Sanders_Jr