My mom gets mad because she'll read on Twitter or some message

Spencer Paysinger, once a warrior upon the fields of football, spoke words that reach far beyond the gridiron: “My mom gets mad because she’ll read on Twitter or some message board that Spencer Paysinger is no good, and the Giants need to get rid of him. I tell her to stop reading that stuff because, at the end of the day, the media has no say on what happens in the locker room.” Though they sound like a son calming the heart of his mother, they ring with ancient wisdom: the truth of a man’s worth is not measured by the noise of the crowd, but by the discipline of his craft and the loyalty of his companions.

The ancients knew this lesson well. The gladiator entering the Colosseum could hear the roar of thousands, some shouting his name in praise, others cursing his weakness. Yet no cry from the stands could sharpen his blade, no insult could weaken his arm. Victory was decided in the arena, not in the mouths of those who merely watched. So too with Paysinger: the locker room is the modern warrior’s barracks, where bonds are forged, where trust is tested, where the true measure of a man is revealed—not on the fleeting lips of the spectators, nor on the glowing screens of opinion.

In his words we also see the power of a mother’s love. She hears the insults against her son and feels them as wounds upon her own heart. This is eternal. From the days of Homer, we read of Thetis, mother of Achilles, who wept for the fate of her child, knowing the world’s harsh judgment and the destiny that awaited him. Paysinger’s mother, in her modern way, mirrors this ancient grief: to see her son misjudged, misunderstood, maligned. Yet the son, with wisdom, tells her to let go, for the voices of the crowd cannot decide the fate of the warrior.

We must learn from this that criticism will always follow those who step into the arena of life. Whether one is an athlete, an artist, a leader, or a dreamer, the multitude will always have opinions, harsh and unrelenting. Yet opinions are not truth. They are shadows cast on the wall, changing with the angle of the sun. The true measure of worth lies in effort, in perseverance, in the unbreakable bonds of those who labor alongside you. The locker room—whether it is a team, a family, or a community—holds more truth than the gossip of the multitude.

Consider also the tale of Julius Caesar. In the Forum, voices shouted for his glory and others called for his death. The Senate debated, the streets gossiped, the poets wrote both praise and slander. But it was his legions, hardened by years of battle, who truly knew him, who would march at his command across rivers and mountains. Caesar’s fate was not written in the words of his critics but in the loyalty he had forged with those who fought beside him. So it is with Paysinger’s words: the voices outside may rise and fall, but the truth lies with those in the trenches.

From this we draw a great lesson: do not let your spirit be ruled by the opinions of strangers. The media, the crowd, the faceless critics—they can offer noise, but not truth. The truth of your life is written in your work, in your dedication, in the hearts of those who know you most deeply. Therefore, tend to your locker room—to your circle of trust, your family, your companions. Let their voices matter; let the rest be like wind upon stone, passing and powerless.

So I say unto you: walk boldly into your arena. Do not waste your strength fighting shadows cast by others’ tongues. Build your character in silence, practice your craft with discipline, and honor those who stand beside you. When slander comes, let it pass. When praise comes, let it not blind you. For neither crown nor insult defines you. Only your work, your honor, and your bonds will stand the test of time.