Tennis isn’t just a game; it’s a mirror. Every choice you make, every frustration or triumph, it’s all reflected right back at you. And when you’re playing with someone you care about, the court becomes brutally honest. It exposes your strengths, your flaws, and, most painfully, your priorities.

For years, I approached tennis with my wife the same way I approached life: with intensity, focus, and a relentless need to win. I dominated. I controlled the game. And, truthfully, I made it all about me. Winning was the goal, even if it meant she walked off the court frustrated and defeated.

It wasn’t intentional, but it was selfish. My actions spoke louder than my words ever could. I told her she mattered, but every time I smashed a serve or celebrated another win at her expense, I was saying the opposite. I was saying, My needs, my pride, my satisfaction—they’re more important than you.

Here’s the thing: that’s rejection, whether we realize it or not. And rejection doesn’t always look like a slammed door or harsh words. Sometimes, it looks like a phone you can’t put down. A distraction you can’t ignore. A decision to choose yourself, your comfort, or your ego over being fully present for the people you claim to care about.

I was guilty of that. And let’s be honest—maybe you’ve been guilty of it too.

We say the people in our lives matter most, but do our actions reflect that? When you’re scrolling your phone instead of listening to your partner, what are you really saying? When you tell your kids “just a second” for the tenth time, do they feel like they’re a priority? When you spend time with someone but can’t put your own needs aside, are you connecting—or just existing in the same space?

For me, it took hitting a breaking point to realize what I was doing. My wife and I weren’t enjoying the game anymore—on the court or off. She was tired of being on the losing end of my relentless drive, and I was too blind to see the damage I was doing. But instead of giving up, we decided to do something radical: we changed the goal.

The new goal wasn’t about winning. It wasn’t about being the better player or even about tennis itself. The goal became simple: enjoy playing the game together. That shift changed everything. It forced me to let go of my ego and take on a new role—not competitor, but coach. And it challenged her to rise to the occasion, to take ownership of her game and play to her potential.

It wasn’t easy for either of us, but it worked. She got better—so much better that she started beating me. And for the first time in years, we walked off the court smiling. We’d found connection. We’d stopped working against each other and started working toward something together.

But the court was just the metaphor. The real lesson? Connection requires sacrifice. It requires being present. It demands that you prioritize someone else’s needs above your own, even when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or downright frustrating. It’s a choice—a deliberate, daily choice—to love sacrificially, to say, You matter more than this distraction, this comfort, this fleeting desire of mine.

So, here’s my challenge to you: Who in your life needs less rejection and more connection? Be honest with yourself. Are your actions telling them they matter, or are they saying something else? Are you showing up for them, fully present, or are you letting distractions, pride, or selfishness get in the way?

The truth is, your actions are always speaking. They’re always telling a story. The question is, What story are they telling?

The game of life isn’t about keeping score. It’s about choosing connection over rejection, again and again. And just like on the tennis court, it’s about staying focused on what really matters. The people in your life deserve more than just your words. They deserve your attention, your presence, and your sacrifice.

Because when it’s all said and done, the only victory that really matters is connection. So, step up. Show up. And play the game like their hearts depend on it—because they do.