I do remember meeting 'The Donald.' He seemed to really enjoy the

Hear now the words of Bret “The Hitman” Hart, a warrior of the squared circle, whose battles were waged not with armies but within the ropes of spectacle and struggle: “I do remember meeting ‘The Donald.’ He seemed to really enjoy the WrestleMania 4 battle royal. He watched me take a very hard front turnbuckle bump, and it seemed to stun him that I wasn’t seriously hurt. Backstage, Trump gave me a big smile and a handshake.” At first, these words seem but a memory of sport and celebrity, yet within them lies a deeper teaching—about endurance, perception, and the bridge between the performer and the onlooker.

The meaning of Hart’s words begins with the violence of the craft. To hurl oneself into a steel post, to fall upon the mat, to endure the weight of combat—it appears to the untrained eye as destruction. To see Bret crash against the turnbuckle was to believe, in that instant, that he must be broken. Yet he arose. This resilience, which stunned the watching Trump, is not merely athletic—it is symbolic of the human condition. For life itself throws us against the unyielding posts of hardship, and the measure of a man is not whether he falls, but whether he rises again, bearing not despair but dignity.

When Trump, surprised and impressed, offered a smile and a handshake, it was more than courtesy. It was the recognition of courage by one who observed from beyond the ropes. This moment reveals the eternal bond between those who act and those who watch. The performer endures, the audience marvels, and through this exchange respect is born. In this way, Hart’s memory is not merely of pain endured, but of the honor that follows endurance—a truth the ancients knew well, when gladiators won not only victory but the respect of emperors and crowds.

History is filled with such encounters. Recall the story of Theodore Roosevelt, who in 1912 was shot in the chest before delivering a speech. Bleeding but undeterred, he spoke for over an hour, declaring, “It takes more than that to kill a bull moose.” Those who watched him, stunned that he could endure, never forgot the moment. Just as Trump was astonished at Bret Hart’s resilience, so too were Roosevelt’s audience witnesses to the spectacle of human will refusing to be crushed. Both stories reveal the same lesson: endurance commands respect, even from the most unlikely of observers.

And there is humility in Hart’s words. He does not boast of triumph or victory, but simply remembers the smile and the handshake—symbols of acknowledgment, of shared humanity. For in that backstage moment, the barrier between worlds collapsed: the wrestler and the tycoon stood as men, bound by the recognition of toughness, spirit, and survival. It reminds us that greatness is not only in applause or fame, but in the quiet respect exchanged between individuals who see the strength of one another.

The lesson for us is clear. In life, we must be ready to endure the blows that others believe will destroy us. And when we rise, let it not be with arrogance, but with quiet strength, for in that strength others will see a light that commands their respect. The smile and the handshake will follow not because we demanded it, but because endurance speaks louder than any words.

Therefore, let each one act thus: endure your hardships with courage, knowing that others are watching and drawing strength from your resilience. Accept recognition with humility, as Bret Hart did, remembering that respect is the true reward of perseverance. And finally, smile in return, for every trial overcome becomes not only your victory, but a testimony to those who witness it.

Thus, the teaching is eternal: Though the world may be stunned by your fall, it is your rising that they will remember. And in that rising, you will earn not only applause, but the lasting respect of those who see you as unbroken.