 We all have moments when the pressure feels overwhelming, where the weight of time, uncertainty, and unclear direction threatens to knock us off course before we’ve even found our rhythm.
I once experienced one of those moments in the most literal way possible, in the center of a ring, under bright lights, facing a taller, powerful opponent in what would be my final professional kickboxing match. The stakes? A U.S. Light Heavyweight title. At 5’8” and 180+ pounds, I was on the shorter side for the division. My opponent stood six feet tall and was backed by a legend Joe Lewis, the first world heavyweight kickboxing champion and a training partner of Bruce Lee. In my corner were two of my close friends and fellow martial artists, Roger Dabney and Jim West, both accomplished fighters in their own right. The pressure was real. This was my last fight, against a formidable opponent, for a major title. And things went sideways almost immediately. The Pressure of the Unknown We met in the center of the ring, and the first punch thrown, a straight right, landed clean on my nose. To this day, I don’t remember it. My body responded on instinct, throwing a right hand–left hook combination that stunned my opponent. I finished the round, but I was dazed. I barely remember the second round. I was fighting on auto-pilot, rattled, unsure of where I stood, and uncertain how I’d push forward. Stress in those moments isn’t just physical. It’s mental. Time feels accelerated. The vision gets blurry. You start questioning your plan, if you even had one to begin with. When Leadership Steps In As I sat down after the second round, Roger doused me in cold water…literally. I didn’t realize it then, but my nose had been bleeding the entire round. He needed to cool me down, clear my head, and reset my body. Technically, Roger was my chief cornerman. But when Jim asked to jump in with some strategy, Roger didn’t hesitate. There was no ego, just teamwork. Jim calmly broke things down: “He’s been walking straight forward the whole fight. No angles. No head movement. Use your front leg side kick to stop his momentum. Then fire the same right hand–left hook combo. Grab him. Spin him. He’ll be disoriented, and you’ll have time to reset and move.” It wasn’t complicated, but it was clear, tactical, and confidence-building. It was the kind of leadership that turns chaos into clarity. Executing Under Pressure I followed the plan. For the next three rounds, I controlled the pace, stopped his forward momentum, and kept landing the left hook. We won a unanimous decision. My opponent’s cheekbone was fractured. And after the fight, Joe Lewis himself came over, shook my hand, and said, “I saw what you were doing, but my guy just couldn’t make the adjustment.” That moment stuck with me, not because of the win, but because of the lesson. 💡 Leadership and Stress Management Takeaways
Whether you’re leading a team through tight deadlines, guiding an organization through change, or stepping into a difficult conversation…remember: The most powerful thing a leader can do under pressure is bring calm, clarity, and confidence to the chaos. Because that’s what turns a shaky second round into a strong finish.
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 People sometimes ask me how I’m able to spot leadership, or the lack of it, so quickly in everyday life. Not just in boardrooms or business settings, but in parenting, coaching, customer service, or even a casual interaction.
The truth is, I do see it everywhere. And sometimes, I wonder if it’s a kind of sixth sense. But it’s not supernatural. It’s earned. It’s the result of years of life experience, military service, mentoring others, and constantly reflecting on what makes people rise, or fall, in leadership roles. I Didn’t Learn Leadership in a Classroom…At First I grew up in a household where structure wasn’t a given. My environment required resilience, not entitlement. And that reality shaped me. It taught me early on that real leadership isn’t about power…it’s about responsibility. That mindset stayed with me through my 30-year Air Force career, where I had the privilege of leading teams, mentoring young airmen, and navigating high-stakes missions. It continues today in my dojo, where I don’t just teach martial arts; I teach integrity, accountability, and self-discipline to students as young as five years old. Leadership wasn’t a theory to me. It was survival. It was service. It was lived. But I Did Study It…Deeply Later in life, I pursued my MBA with a concentration in Strategic Leadership. By that point, I had already led teams, developed programs, trained instructors, and helped shape futures. The degree didn’t teach me what leadership is, but it gave structure to what I’d spent decades doing intuitively. It provided language, tools, and frameworks that validated what I’d lived: ✅ That integrity isn’t optional, it’s foundational. ✅ That clarity, communication, and consistency matter more than charisma. ✅ That a great strategy falls flat without leaders who live the example first. Why I See Leadership Everywhere Because I’ve been in the room when leadership changed everything, and in the room when the lack of it nearly cost everything. Because I’ve followed strong leaders who inspired me, and had to lead in times when no one else would step up. Because I’ve watched people grow when someone believed in them, and shrink when no one did. So when I see a manager dismiss their team’s effort, I notice. When a parent avoids a hard but necessary conversation with their child, I feel it. When a student steps up to help another, without being asked, I celebrate it. I don’t see leadership because I’m looking harder. I see it because I’ve become it. The Real “Sixth Sense” It’s not a gift. It’s not a mystery. It’s a mindset. When you’ve lived it, led through it, studied it, and taught it long enough, you stop seeing leadership as a title or a role. You start seeing it as a daily decision. A commitment. A standard. And that standard doesn’t turn off when the office closes or the uniform comes off. My life, my childhood, my military service, my MBA, my dojo, my family, has trained me to recognize what others might miss. That’s not just leadership. That’s legacy.  I was just 14 years old when I got my first job, sweeping floors and taking out trash at a photo development and video rental store about three miles from my house in Detroit. The business was owned by an older couple, but run by their two adult sons, Skip and Scott.
At first, I was just happy to have a job and earn an honest paycheck. But over the next 2½ years, something important happened: I started learning. A lot. I learned how to mix developer solution for film, how to operate the machines that turned negatives into printed photographs, and eventually, how to run the video rental side of the business; including managing the software, inventory, and customer service. I became the kid who could do everything in the shop. But while my responsibilities grew, my pay didn’t. I was still making $3.75 an hour. At 16½ years old, I finally decided it was time to speak up. I walked into their office and respectfully said, “I’ve been here for over two years, I’m doing just about everything in this store, and I think I deserve a raise.” When they asked how much I was hoping for, I said, “Five dollars an hour.” Without hesitation, Scott said, “Good luck…we’re not paying that.” So I thanked them for everything they had taught me… and I walked out. At that moment, I realized something many adults never do, or worse, they realize it but don’t have the courage to act on it. I had been taken advantage of. I was doing far more than I was being compensated for, and the people benefiting from that had no intention of making it right. I was just a teenager. But I knew my worth. The Leadership Lesson: Integrity isn’t just about being honest with others; it’s about being honest with yourself. Too many people know they’re underpaid, undervalued, or overlooked, but stay silent. They tell themselves it’ll change, or they fear losing what little they have. But leaders know better. Leaders advocate for their value. They speak up, respectfully, clearly, and confidently. And if nothing changes, they have the courage to walk away from what no longer honors their worth. As leaders, we must also remember the flip side: if someone on your team is stepping up, taking on more, and adding value…reward them. Otherwise, you’ll watch your best people walk away from you the same way I walked out of that video store.  When I first stepped into the world of pharmaceutical sales, I was excited. It felt like the perfect fit; an opportunity to use my leadership and recruiting background to help others while building a career in corporate America. There was a clear ladder to climb and, most importantly, I believed I’d be contributing to patient care in a meaningful way.
After completing the training and getting certified, I was out in the field as a Diabetes Care Specialist. One key part of the job was monthly ride-alongs with the district sales manager. It was during one of these routine visits that I encountered a moment that would change my entire perspective. We were at a family practice clinic, waiting in the sample room. Among the items were insulin pens filled with saline, training tools used by doctors to teach patients how to administer injections. Multiple companies, including ours, provided them. Then, right in front of me, my district manager took all of the competitors’ pens, emptied them into the sink, and casually said, “When a provider reaches for our competitors’ pens and they don’t work, they’ll grab ours. When that works, they’ll write a script for our product.” It was a move he likely viewed as clever sales strategy. But I was stunned. I wasn’t a 23-year-old fresh out of college. I was 38, a husband, father, and veteran of both life and leadership. And what I saw wasn’t strategy…it was sabotage. Worse, it betrayed the very mission that drew me to the role: helping people. That moment was the beginning of the end for me in that industry. I began noticing other behaviors that lacked integrity. And while I know every industry has its flaws, I also believe that leaders have a responsibility to uphold the values they claim to stand for, especially when no one’s watching. The Leadership Lesson: Integrity is doing the right thing even when it’s not the easy thing. It would’ve been easy to look the other way. To shrug and rationalize the behavior as “just part of the game. ”But real leaders know the difference between clever and crooked. They don’t sacrifice values for numbers. Integrity builds trust, and trust builds lasting impact. Whether in martial arts, the military, or the boardroom, your character is the most important thing you bring to the table. Once that’s gone, the rest doesn’t matter.  When I was 25, I applied for a position called Plans and Programs Manager at my Air Force law enforcement unit. My wife was pregnant with our first daughter, and the position offered more stability, expanded responsibilities, and a new avenue for professional growth. It wasn’t just a promotion, it was an opportunity to provide more for my growing family.
The role wasn’t easy to get. It required the endorsement of senior base leadership, and there were concerns about my rank and experience. But my superintendent, who would later become my direct supervisor, stood up for me. He made the case that I was the best person for the job. Thanks to his advocacy, I got the position. About six months later, I found myself in charge of preparing our base’s resource protection plan for a major inspection. It was a massive responsibility involving every agency on base. Right in the middle of the chaos, my wife went into labor. After the delivery, I checked on my family and returned to work, not sure what would happen next. When my superintendent saw me, he didn’t ask for an update or press me about deadlines. Instead, he asked how my family was and then told me to hand him everything I’d worked on; he’d finish the plan himself so I could go home and be with my family. That kind of leadership stays with you. I didn’t take the time off. Instead, I worked while my family slept. I finished the plan, and our base passed its inspection with flying colors. I didn’t do it because I had to. I did it because I didn’t want to let him down. That’s the power of referent leadership: the ability to influence and inspire through respect, character, and genuine care. It’s the kind of leadership that earns loyalty without demanding it. My superintendent didn’t just lead us, he believed in us. And I’ve tried to lead the same way ever since. Maybe it wasn’t just that I didn’t want to let him down. Maybe it was that he never wanted to let me down either. The Leadership Lessons:
Would you follow your leader because you have to, or because you want to? That answer tells you everything about the kind of culture you’re building.  Many years ago, while stationed at Columbus Air Force Base, I found myself in a situation that tested my integrity, responsibility, and belief in fairness. I was 24 years old, a young Airman, and a single guardian raising my younger brother Chris, who was just 10 at the time. Balancing work and parenting wasn’t easy, but I managed it with discipline, and a carefully structured schedule.
I worked the day shift in Air Force law enforcement operations, holding a “critical position” as a Desk Sergeant, something akin to being both dispatcher and station lead. My schedule, though unconventional, allowed me to care for Chris and limit childcare to weekends. It wasn’t just convenient: it was essential. Then I was late. Twice in a month. Not egregiously late, just didn’t arrive the 30 minutes early that was custom for the role. A courtesy I normally upheld. But the second time, the shift sergeant told my colleague not to call me, a common practice when someone was running behind. Why? He didn’t like me, and this was his opportunity to push me off the day shift, a move that would have deeply impacted my family life and finances. A few days later, I was summoned by the unit superintendent. Calmly and respectfully, I owned up to my mistakes. I explained what happened, not to make excuses, but to provide context. I told him I’d accept whatever discipline he deemed appropriate, but asked only to be treated fairly. “If being late twice in a critical position is grounds for reassignment,” I said, “then the same should apply to my supervisor who’s been late four times, and to our armorer, who’s been late seven.” He leaned back, nodded, and simply said, “You’re right.” And then he added something I’ll never forget: “Watch yourself. Being right sometimes comes with consequences.” He kept me on the day shift, but warned that others may look for reasons to push back. I took the lesson to heart. Leadership and Life Lessons Here’s what this moment taught me, and could teach any leader: 🔹 1. Accountability earns trust. I didn’t deny my mistakes. I owned them without defensiveness. That shows maturity and self-awareness, traits every leader should model and recognize. 🔹 2. Fairness matters more than favoritism. I didn’t ask for special treatment, I asked for consistent standards. That distinction revealed both character and conviction. 🔹 3. A leader’s bias can shape, or sabotage an organization. Whether it’s personality conflicts, unspoken grudges, or unexamined bias, a leader must recognize how their perceptions influence their actions. If not checked, it can cost the team good people and integrity. 🔹 4. Courage means standing your ground…respectfully. Speaking truth to power isn’t about being loud or combative. It’s about being calm, honest, and willing to accept the outcome. That earns real respect. 🔹 5. Great leaders listen, even when it’s inconvenient. The superintendent didn’t just hear me, he listened. He evaluated facts over feelings and responded with fairness. That moment strengthened my respect for him and my commitment to our unit. Some lessons stay with you for a lifetime, not because of how loud the moment was, but because of how quietly it tested your core. This was one of those.  Summertime is notoriously slow for martial arts schools. Vacations, camps, and family travel take priority, and that shows in our class attendance. This past Friday was no different, only one adult showed up for class. That adult was Mike. Mike’s a middle-aged, retired school teacher who stands about 6’4” and weighs well over 250 pounds. He joined our academy a few years ago after some of our black belts encouraged him to start training as a way to get in better shape. At the time, his doctors had already told him he needed both knees replaced. But he showed up anyway, and kept showing up. Mike earned his black belt in December 2024. A month later, in January 2025, he had his left knee replaced, and just a couple months later, he was back in class. I told him after his test that he was one of the most inspiring students I’ve ever taught, and I meant that. He never asked for special treatment. We made a few modifications here and there, but only what was absolutely necessary. He didn’t want concessions, he wanted to earn it. There were rare days when he’d text me and say he needed to rest, but for the most part, he was in class. Training. Pushing. Showing up. That brings me back to this past Friday. Mike was the only one in class, for the second week in a row. The week before, we worked on focus mitts. But this time, I decided to push him a bit harder. We drilled kickboxing combos, then I put him through a 100-kick workout on the heavy bag. And let me tell you, he gave it everything he had. Power, speed, height, he delivered it all, even with one replaced knee and another still needing surgery. Disclaimer: To Mike’s wife and his ortho doctor, don’t worry, we kept it safe. Everything was controlled, and I checked on him constantly like a helicopter coach with a liability form in my back pocket. And as I stood there calling out numbers and watching him push through each rep, I found myself thinking: What drives someone like this? There’s no medal at the end. No crowd cheering. No ranking points. Just the quiet satisfaction of doing something difficult, and doing it well. Mike isn’t trying to impress anyone. He’s not chasing likes or approval. He’s simply trying to be better than he was yesterday. That kind of mindset doesn’t come from physical ability, it comes from mental fortitude. And it’s that mindset that keeps him moving when most people would sit still. If I ever had to go to war, Mike is the kind of person I’d want by my side. Not because he’s the fastest or the most technical, but because he won’t quit. Not when it gets hard. Not when he’s tired. Not when no one else shows up. And that’s the kind of person every organization needs. Life and Leadership Lessons from Mike’s Story
Whether in martial arts or any professional team, it’s not the loudest person or the flashiest resume that makes the biggest difference. It’s the one who shows up when no one’s watching, and refuses to back down when things get hard. Mike is that person. And your organization is better when you have people like him, not just for what they do, but for what they make possible in others.   On March 22, 2023, I lost my little brother, Chris. “Little” is relative, he stood nearly 6 foot 2, while I’m 5 foot 8 on a good day. He passed away at just 38 years old from a rare blood disorder inherited from our parents. Since then, I’ve found myself noticing the world around me a little more. I’ve been doing what loss demands of us…reflecting.
One of the things I keep hearing in my head is something Chris used to say often: “Give me my flowers while I’m here.” It’s a phrase many have heard. We usually take it to mean, “Show love and appreciation before it’s too late.” I used to think that too. But after losing Chris, I see it differently. Giving flowers isn’t just about avoiding regret after someone passes. It’s about how we lead, how we parent, how we show up. A person doesn’t have to die for this to matter; sometimes, they just need someone to see them. When a child receives love and recognition, they grow up knowing they matter. That emotional security becomes their armor against self-doubt and anxiety. When a stay-at-home mom is affirmed, it reminds her that what she does is not invisible. She’s not “just” a mom, she’s a cornerstone. When a father is appreciated, he’s reminded that his sacrifices mean something. He’s not just a paycheck. He’s a protector, a provider, and a source of strength. When an employee is recognized consistently, not just during exit interviews, it builds a culture of loyalty, morale, and leadership. It helps people stay connected to purpose. As a martial artist, an Air Force leader, and a teacher of leadership, I’ve seen this truth repeat itself: people don’t need perfection, they need to feel seen. Too often, we wait until the funeral, the resignation letter, or the broken relationship to offer the praise, love, and gratitude we should’ve given long before. Leadership isn’t just about strategy, it’s about humanity. That’s why I had Chris’s words permanently inscribed on the inside of my left arm, in his handwriting, surrounding a lotus flower drawn by my daughter, Payton. His message now sits close to my heart, always. A daily reminder to lead with love, and never wait to show it. So here’s the challenge I’m embracing and offering: Give your flowers now. To your kids. To your partner. To your teammates. To your mentors and your students. Tell them what they mean to you while they’re still around to hear it. We’re all carrying burdens. A few flowers could be the thing that keeps someone going.  In every organization, there are those few people who seem to carry more than their fair share. When a major stakeholder visit is on the horizon, a project deadline is looming, or the team needs someone to “make it happen,” these individuals are the ones who get tapped on the shoulder. Again and again. At first glance, it may seem like they’re being taken advantage of. But if you zoom out, you realize something much deeper is happening. It’s a signal of trust. A sign of capability. A quiet acknowledgment from leadership that this person gets results. I didn’t fully appreciate this dynamic until I served as one of four superintendents at a leadership academy in Florida. The academy operated as a fully accredited college, serving 1,300 students annually through 260 clock hours of intense leadership and management education, delivered in just six and a half weeks. It’s a high-demand environment by any standard. The structure mirrored that of a traditional college, with a commandant (college president), director of education (dean), director of operations (campus director), four superintendents (department heads), and a team of instructors. Each superintendent had major responsibilities and supervised several classroom instructors. But over time, I noticed a pattern. Whenever the director of education or operations was out, the commandant would ask me, out of all four superintendents, to step in and serve as interim director. Every time. Despite my own workload, he consistently trusted me to carry more when needed. At the time, I didn’t think much of it; I had become used to this kind of responsibility throughout my career. But being in that environment, surrounded by leadership professionals, I began to view it through a more strategic lens, one grounded in organizational development. My colleagues weren’t incompetent. They were highly capable professionals. But something in the way I worked must have demonstrated to the commandant that I could be trusted, not only to get the job done, but to do it with excellence, without compromising my primary responsibilities. I had built a reputation of reliability. And reliability becomes opportunity. Here’s the leadership truth: not everyone steps up in the same way. And not everyone is asked to. But those who consistently take ownership, solve problems, and perform under pressure often become the go-to leaders, even before they ever wear the title. As leaders, it’s our job to spot those individuals early, develop them, and challenge them. But we can’t stop there. We also have a duty to develop everyone under our charge to the full extent of their potential. Not all will rise to senior leadership, but they should rise as high as they’re capable of going. That’s our responsibility as leaders. But the responsibility doesn’t rest solely on the shoulders of leadership. If you’re never tapped to lead a project, to represent your team, or to brief stakeholders, you need to ask yourself why. You have just as much responsibility in your own development. We don’t rise by default; we rise by choice and by action. In leadership, and in life, potential isn’t promised. It’s earned. And it’s revealed through consistent action. The Leadership and Life Lessons 1. Being asked repeatedly to lead isn’t punishment, it’s confirmation that you’ve earned trust. High performers are leaned on for a reason. Don’t confuse trust with burden. 2. Leadership roles are often given to those who already act like leaders, even without the title. Showing up, following through, and owning outcomes speaks louder than ambition alone. 3. Reliability is a leader’s currency. The more you demonstrate that you can be counted on, the more doors will open for you. That’s true at every level. 4. A leader’s job is twofold: develop high-potential individuals and raise the floor for everyone else. It’s not enough to focus on your stars; true leadership is measured by how far you bring the whole team. 5. Growth is mutual. Leaders must be committed to developing their teams, and individuals must be committed to earning their growth. No one is owed a promotion or title; they’re earned through consistent effort and readiness. 6. If you’re not being tapped to lead, it may be time to reflect, not deflect. Instead of blaming others, ask what you can do to demonstrate that you’re ready for more responsibility. 7. Your potential is a ceiling you choose to push. Don’t settle. Strive to reach the highest version of yourself…not the most convenient one.   Early in my career as a young supervisor in the Air Force, I was handed a challenge that would shape how I viewed leadership from that day forward. It wasn’t a tactical issue. It wasn’t mission-related. It was personal. And it was complicated.
One of my Airmen had gotten himself deep into financial trouble. Before he was married, he was balancing over twenty credit cards and department store accounts. It sounds crazy, but he had it under control, until marriage added another layer of expenses and spending. Things spiraled. Fast. By the time he came to me, the debt had taken over his life. In the military, financial irresponsibility is a serious offense. I had already seen the consequences firsthand; my very first supervisor had been discharged because of debt. So I knew what was at stake. But I also knew this young Airman had potential. So instead of writing him off, I sat down with him. We got him into the financial management program, started closing credit accounts, and created a plan. It wasn’t quick, but it was working. Then something unexpected happened; he received assignment orders to Hawaii. Now normally, that kind of news would call for a celebration. But with the cost of living in Hawaii and the state of his finances, I knew this wasn’t a reward; it was a trap. Sending him there would have put him right back into survival mode. Worse, it could’ve meant the end of his military career. So I did my homework. I discovered that under the right circumstances, a unit commander could cancel an assignment. The report date was still nearly a year away, so we had time, but I needed support. Not long after, I was called into a meeting with our unit commander and superintendent. They wanted to talk about my subordinate’s situation, and more importantly, what I planned to do about it. I laid it all out: the progress we’d made, the steps taken, and the harsh financial reality of living in Hawaii. Then I said something I knew might not be popular: “If we send him, he won’t make it. And we’ll be handing another unit a problem that started with us. Let us finish what we started; cancel the assignment and give him a real chance to recover.” And here’s the part of the story that still sticks with me: they listened. Despite my rank and limited time as a supervisor, the commander and superintendent heard me out. They didn’t dismiss my voice because of my position; they respected it because I brought a thoughtful, people-first solution to the table. And in the end, they acted on my recommendation. The assignment was cancelled, and the Airman stayed under our wing. Now, he wasn’t happy about it. In fact, he was downright angry. He thought I’d sabotaged a dream assignment. But I wasn’t trying to take anything from him. I was trying to protect his future; even if he couldn’t see it in the moment. The Leadership Lessons There are a few lessons in this story that I still carry with me, and that I try to pass on to the leaders I train today: 1. Leadership means doing what’s right…not what’s popular. There will be times when leading your people means telling them “no,” or redirecting them from something they want. If it’s not good for them, your job isn’t to agree…it’s to lead. 2. True leadership requires long-term thinking. Had we sent him to Hawaii, the short-term excitement would’ve come at the expense of long-term damage. I wasn’t focused on making him happy in the moment; I was focused on protecting his future. 3. Good leaders don’t just make decisions…they listen first. What our commander and superintendent did that day was a powerful lesson. They invited a young, relatively inexperienced supervisor into the room, not to report, but to be heard. And then they acted on what I shared. That kind of trust builds stronger teams, and smarter decisions. Not every leadership decision ends in applause. Some end in frustration, confusion, or even resentment, at least for a time. But real leadership isn’t about being liked. It’s about doing what’s right, even when it’s hard. And sometimes, it’s about being the only one in the room willing to say what no one else wants to hear, because the people you lead are counting on you to protect what they can’t yet see. |
AuthorCliff Kinchen is a lifelong martial artist and seasoned leadership trainer who blends combat discipline with real-world leadership insight. With decades of experience—from Air Force instruction to corporate boardrooms—he helps others grow through confidence, character, and challenge. His writing sparks reflection, inspires action, and invites readers to lead from the inside out Archives
September 2025
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