I just smile. And they - my opponents don't like it when I smile

Hear, O listener, the fierce words of Rau’Shee Warren: “I just smile. And they—my opponents don’t like it when I smile at them. They think I’m playing or something. But—like I smile throughout the whole fight. Sometimes I’ll be throwing combinations and I just smile and stick my tongue out at them.” Though they sound playful, these words reveal the ancient spirit of the warrior, who uses not only fists and strength but also the power of the mind and spirit to unsettle, to inspire, and to conquer.

The meaning of this saying is rooted in psychology and presence. To smile in the midst of battle is to demonstrate fearlessness, to show that struggle brings not dread but joy. An opponent expects grim determination, anger, or strain. But to see a smile instead is to be disarmed, to wonder if one is fighting against not merely a man but a spirit who delights in combat. Warren’s grin becomes a weapon sharper than fists, for it invades the enemy’s mind and shakes their certainty.

The origin of this wisdom lies deep in the history of warriors. Ancient chronicles tell of men who laughed on the battlefield, unnerving their foes. The Norse berserkers would howl and grin with wild abandon, frightening those who saw in them not mortals but spirits of chaos. Samurai were taught to maintain serenity in combat, sometimes smiling faintly to show their contempt for death. In this lineage, Warren stands, wielding his smile as a sign that the fight is his element, not his burden.

History offers us clear echoes. Muhammad Ali, the great boxer, often mocked and taunted his opponents in the ring, his face alive with play even as his fists struck like lightning. His demeanor infuriated rivals and enchanted crowds, for he seemed untouchable—not only in skill but in spirit. Like Warren, Ali’s smile was not frivolous, but strategic, a declaration: “I am in control. You cannot break me.” Such gestures elevate combat from a clash of bodies to a duel of minds and wills.

Yet there is also joy in these words, a reminder that even in the most violent contests, one may still find life’s lighter spirit. Warren’s smile is not only intimidation—it is celebration. He loves the art, the rhythm, the dance of combinations. In his grin is the proof that the true warrior does not merely endure the struggle, but embraces it as a place of expression, mastery, and even play. His tongue stuck out at an adversary is not cruelty but freedom—the joy of one utterly alive in his craft.

Practically, this lesson teaches us about resilience in our own struggles. When difficulties surround us, when adversaries press close, we too can learn to smile. To show joy in hardship confuses those who would see us broken, and it strengthens our own resolve. The fight of life is not lessened by fear, but it is lightened by courage and playfulness. If we can laugh, if we can grin, even when storms rage, then we have already taken victory in the realm of the spirit.

So, O listener, remember this: your smile can be as mighty as your strength. Let it disarm foes, let it steady your heart, let it proclaim that you are unbroken. For in the battles of life, those who can grin through pain, who can laugh in the midst of struggle, wield a power no enemy can take away.

Thus the teaching endures: in every fight, whether of fists or of fate, the one who smiles is the one who already carries victory in their heart.