The State of Fight Club
2025
In December of 2023, my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had just turned 29 years old and nine months earlier had brought our second son into this world. Our world was rocked in the 10 seconds it took Taylor to open my office door. She didn’t even have to tell me what the biopsy results were - it was written on her face. Before her double mastectomy, her friend group laid hands on her and prayed for her well-being. I had no close friends to do the same. I closed up shop. Withdrew inward. Locked down every emotion that tried to break free. The pressure valve was clamped shut, and I didn’t show an ounce of fear - at least not that I was aware of at the time.
This wreaked havoc on my mental and physical health. I learned later, through the amazing work of a counselor, that my stress and anxiety about “the next shoe to drop” was so out of balance. Should we have a little angst about what might be in our future? Sure. It keeps us alert and on our toes. But to wake up at 4 a.m. with full body sweats, to have a string of heart palpitations at the sound of an early morning text? Not productive.
It wasn’t until I came to grips with the fact that I was not strong enough - nor should I have been - to shoulder that emotional pressure alone, so I went on the offensive to make as many close personal friends as possible.
Now making friends in your late 20s and early 30s is a weird thing, especially if you have kids. You essentially have to just hope that your wife’s friends’ husbands aren’t weird. That the kids your kid has started playing with don’t have closet weirdo parents.
In August of 2024, we began attending a new church, something I mentioned when I wrote about God’s comedic timing. A message during that series made me decide to lean into both the church community and cultivating my own community outside of our church. If Jesus could pick his 12 closest friends, then maybe that’s what I was supposed to do as well?
I texted three guys.
One I knew and had spent quite a bit of time with, whose wife happened to have gone to school with mine, and two other dads I knew from the kids’ park group. We met at an Ale House with the understanding that Dads Fight Club was a place to talk about whatever we needed to, and the conversation couldn’t leave the table.
Since then, Dad’s Fight Club has grown to a 17-person group that meets monthly at my house for dinner. I grill the protein, the guys bring the sides - we laugh, make fun of each other, and talk about life. Since then, I’ve launched this newsletter, recruited a friend to write with me, and as I speak, we are crafting a vision for what Dads Fight Club is going to become. We may never break 100 subscribers, and honestly, that’s okay. I prayed for some men to lean on when life gets tough, and the Lord has brought that over the last year in numbers I could not have imagined.
Last evening we had our first “Dads-giving” here at the house. It will 100% be a yearly event that I look forward to and plan in advance. Next year I’m praying that the attendance will be double. I’m praying that between now and then, the lives of these men and their families is “straight up and to the right.” I’m praying for life trajectories to change, and I’m praying we have some fun along the way.
With all this change comes some changes for us as well, as we intentionally create margin in our lives. Meaning more spaced out posts, but deeper dives into topics and experiences that we think will enrich your email inbox.
The Bible study series will continue in a few weeks, and expect some essays picking apart some topics that have been rolling around in our brains, and I can’t forget to mention an upcoming piece on our vision of what we want Dad’s Fight Club to become in the years ahead, my number one promise is that we are going to build this community in public.
Dad’s Fight Club has already become a platform for real life change and I would be a fool to not lean into it.
Always in your corner,
Chance