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We're down to the final week of the World Cup. One thing I've noticed as the tournament has progressed is that the higher the stakes become, the more aggressive the play. During group play, every team was guaranteed three matches, and by the third game some had already secured their advancement. Now, in the semifinals and finals, every challenge carries greater consequences. Tackles are harder, emotions run hotter, players argue more passionately with the referees, and the energy from the fans has reached another level. Interpersonal conflict follows a remarkably similar pattern. As frustration builds, people become more protective of their position, their values, or their sense of power. The longer conflict goes unaddressed, the higher the perceived stakes become. What may have started as a misunderstanding slowly transforms into a battle over respect, fairness, identity, or control. Addressing conflict early helps preserve relationships, manage emotions, and create opportunities for productive dialogue. Avoiding it often has the opposite effect. By the time a mediator is invited into the conversation, the conflict has frequently taken on a life of its own. Resistance to mediation becomes yet another obstacle because the conflict itself has become the new normal. Recently, I worked with two situations that illustrate this perfectly. The first involved co-parents. One parent had developed a pattern of avoiding difficult conversations while the other often felt excluded from important decisions regarding their child. Eventually, an opportunity arose that required both parents to agree. For the parent who had previously felt powerless, this became an opportunity to finally exercise some influence and stand firm on deeply held values. Unfortunately, the inability to communicate constructively placed the child in the middle. Rather than focusing on what the child wanted, the unresolved history between the parents became the defining issue. The child now risks losing an experience they were excited about while the relationship with one or both parents may suffer further damage. The second case involved a workplace conflict that had been simmering for more than a year. Leadership was aware of the conflict, but meaningful intervention never occurred. The issue was essentially shelved. Six months later...guess who received the call? By then, the disagreement had expanded well beyond two employees with different communication styles. It had evolved into a conversation about organizational systems, trust, and perceived fairness. While both employees acknowledged that communication was at the heart of the conflict, the conflict itself had become part of their professional identity. Admitting mistakes or taking accountability felt risky because the dysfunctional relationship had become familiar. At that point, voluntary mediation represented an opportunity to reset the relationship. Without it, management's remaining options were becoming increasingly limited, including potential disciplinary action. That is where concepts like BATNA and WATNA become useful. In negotiation, BATNA—the Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement—is the course of action available if no agreement is reached. WATNA—the Worst Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement—asks us to consider what happens if things go as badly as they reasonably could. For the World Cup teams, the WATNA is simple: lose and go home. That reality drives extraordinary effort, fierce competition, and, at times, aggressive behavior. In our personal and professional lives, the alternatives are often less obvious but far more enduring. A BATNA may mean accepting legal costs, changing jobs, parallel parenting, or simply continuing as things are. A WATNA may be damaged relationships, ongoing stress, declining trust, or a child caught between two parents. The challenge is that BATNAs and WATNAs are highly subjective. People don't always choose the option that appears most logical from the outside. They choose the one that feels safest based on their experiences, emotions, and perceptions. Unlike the World Cup, where someone ultimately wins and someone loses, most of life's conflicts don't end with a final whistle. We still have to work together. We still have to co-parent. We still have to share space, make decisions, and solve problems. That's why the goal shouldn't be to "win" the conflict. The goal is to resolve it before the stakes become so high that everyone loses. 
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Rules, Fairness, and Ethics When my kids were little, we signed them up for AYSO soccer. As a volunteer-run organization, it depended on parents stepping in to help, so one year I volunteered to referee. Since these were under-six players, I quickly discovered I wasn't really officiating soccer as much as managing a herd of energetic cats. Having completed the referee training, I was determined to do the job correctly. I blew my whistle every time I saw a violation because, after all, the rules were the rules. Apparently, I was taking my responsibilities a little too seriously because a parent finally yelled, "Just let them play!" They were right. At that age, the rules were intended more as teaching tools than rigid standards. My job wasn't simply to enforce them—it was to help children learn the game. I've always been something of a rule follower, although my friends would probably point out that I occasionally decide certain rules are really just "guidelines," particularly when it benefits me. Professionally, however, I see ethics very differently. As a mediator, the ethical standards governing our profession, and the principles reflected in the Uniform Mediation Act are not optional guidelines. They are the foundation of our credibility. Confidentiality, neutrality, impartiality, informed consent, and party self-determination are what distinguish a professional mediator from someone who simply calls themselves one. Those principles create trust in the process. That is why I found the recent World Cup controversy involving the overturning of a red card issued to a U.S. player so troubling. Referees are entrusted to make decisions on the field. Those decisions are supported by assistant referees, video review, and VAR. The process is designed to minimize error while preserving the referee's authority. It is not perfect, but it is intended to be fair and consistent. My own experience as a youth referee taught me how difficult officiating can be. Even in a game played by six-year-olds, every decision required judgment. Players, coaches, and spectators didn't always agree, but respecting the authority of the referee was part of respecting the game itself. Whether or not the overturned red card was justified, the appearance that outside influence could alter a disciplinary decision raises important questions. If exceptions can be made in one situation, where does the line get drawn? If one decision is subject to outside pressure, what confidence do players, teams, and fans have that other decisions are being made under the same standards? Fairness depends as much on consistency as it does on correctness. The reversal also placed the U.S. team with a decision to make. While the suspension had been lifted, the team still had a choice about whether to take advantage of that opportunity. Reasonable people can disagree about what they should have done, but situations like this remind us that ethics often extend beyond what is merely allowed. They involve considering fairness, integrity, and the broader impact on others. Throughout this tournament, we've witnessed remarkable examples of sportsmanship. Players who battled fiercely for ninety minutes embraced one another after the final whistle. Host cities welcomed visiting teams and supporters with warmth and generosity. FIFA introduced rules intended to reinforce respect and sportsmanship on and off the field. Those moments remind us why we love sports. Competition matters, but so does trust in the game itself. Whether we're officiating a soccer match, mediating a dispute, leading an organization, or simply interacting with one another, rules create consistency. Ethics create trust. When both are honored, people may not always like the outcome, but they can have confidence that the process was fair. In the end, the United States' elimination from the tournament rendered the controversy largely moot. But the larger lesson remains. Fairness isn't measured only by who wins or loses. It's measured by whether everyone believes the same rules—and the same ethical standards—apply equally to everyone.  |
Sunny Sassaman
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August 2026
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