It seems the characteristics we value most in life -- gentleness, kindness, integrity, generosity, self-control, a peaceful countenance -- intersect absurdly with the traits we need for success on athletics fields -- aggression, gamesmanship, physicality, combativeness, intensity, egotism. As an educator, I want to teach my athletes to model the first set of characteristics. But to get results as a coach, I need to call on the second set.

Earlier this fall, my women's soccer team at Gordon College played our local rival in an important and tense conference match. At halftime, my star forward came to me and said the defender on the other team had elbowed her in the stomach on several occasions when the referee had turned his back. She queried me on the appropriate response.

My quandary: tell her that she must stand up to abuse and retaliate when the chance arose or take the ethical path and walk away. Mother Teresa sat on one shoulder whispering in my ear, "Tell her to turn away, to let it go, to seek peace." But Vince Lombardi was on the other shoulder shouting, "Get even, don't take this abuse or they won't have any respect for you."

This was but a sliver of a moment in our long season, but a moment that will define me philosophically. You never know which touch will be the significant touch in a kid's life. Addressing this issue gave me an opportunity to impact my players' lives. The words of don Juan Matus, in his teachings to Carlos Castaneda came to mind: "Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question: Does this path have heart? If it does, the path is good. If it doesn't, it is of no use." Which reaction was the path of heart?

Athletics administrators give us a mixed message to this conflict: Wholly develop your players -- athletically, personally, academically -- but you had better get results or you may be out of a job. At the end of the day at most colleges you are what your record says you are. The life lesson in dealing with this incident is that a grudge should not be harbored, that fighting evil with evil reduces you, that to rid yourself of an enemy you must forgive her. The athletics lesson is that you must demand justice or opponents will continue to take advantage of you, and that a fighting spirit is necessary to win.

Retaliation could hurt your team if you lose concentration or if the referee punishes you. Lack of response shows you can be bullied, you can be taken advantage of, you are soft.

To defend yourself shows strong personal character vs. our greatest glory -- to live compassionately, to forgive others. But can you forgive if your opponent shows no remorse?

Most coaches teach their athletes the importance of showing pride in themselves, in their teams, in their schools. Signs abound in locker rooms, gyms and on fields extolling the virtues of that pride. Does too much pride lead to arrogance? Does the phrase "pride cometh before a fall" mean we would be more likely to get results if we taught a more humble approach? C.S. Lewis said, "Pride is the complete anti-God state of mind."

What is more important, the satisfaction of revenge, the joy of getting even or the confidence that comes with being secure enough to walk away without having to convince anybody of anything?

I want my athletes to display strong spirits, yet kind hearts; to play with passion, yet be humble. Is this message too conflicting? Is the gulf between these characteristics too wide? Can we be kind and humble and still win?

Fifteen years ago as a men's coach, I remember sending in a player to "deal with" a goon on the other team who had knocked around several of my players. I had no qualms. Are gender roles coming into play here, or am I just mellowing with age?

In my steady path through the college soccer world, I have entered the quiet territory of introspection more than ever in recent years. Alas, three waist sizes and four hair styles ago, I had more answers. Usually drawing on past glories and disappointments helps me arrive at a conclusion. Not this time. I do know this: Chances to influence kids pass quickly; then we become obsolete.

"Coach, she is elbowing me in the stomach. What should I do?" my player says, eyebrows arched, eyes holding wide, holding mine.

The teaching moment had arrived. I had no answers.

Rick Burns is the women's soccer coach at Gordon College.