Definition: Given a real-life anecdote of a complex ethical situation, generate a suitable title that describes the main event/root cause of the situation. Imagine that the given text is a social media post, and you have to write the title of the post, so the users can decide to read the main text or not.
Input: I like playing tennis. I'm far from the best players, but I love the sport. Dad did, too. He'd get involved in my matches, taking videos of me and whatnot, you know, standard dad stuff. Except for that right after every loss, when I was most devastated, he'd list out, very bluntly, all the things I did wrong and tell me to get better. Every time I lost, I tell him to hold off, and he doesn't. This eventually results in a talk where he promises not to and still repeats his offenses the next time. I've been through this for more than a year, now, and the same thing still happens.

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So, one day after practice (not even a match), he starts doing the usual thing, and I say "Yeah, I know" in a sort of disagreeable tone (I don't even know what it was; all I know is it felt neutral for me and was objectively not confrontational). He heats up, saying "what is wrong with you? I'm just trying to help and look at how you treat me!" I say that he's doing fine, I'm not feeling in such a good mood, just we can get home and discuss this. He says ok. Halfway through the car ride, he yells, "you think you're so good and tennis? Look at how trash your forehand is! I'm trying to help you and you treat me like garbage!" I muster all the patience and sweetness I have left and again just tell him to talk about this when we get home. Close to home, he says, "You know what? I should just leave you at home to do nothing all day! You're useless!" I'm really upset now, and I break. "I'M A FAILURE, ALRIGHT?! I'm SORRY!" He responds with "FUCK YOU! GET OUT OF THE CAR!"

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That was it. If I had any fear of the man, it disappeared right then and there. I had had enough of him using me as a punching bag, treating me like an array of numbers. All these years, I was like a pressure cooker, slowly building up pressure on the inside while appearing fine on the outside, and that day I exploded. I had had enough of him. I grabbed a racket (in case he tried to approach me), walked out, and screamed "I HATE YOU!" at the top of my lungs. A minute goes by, he tries to approach me and says, "Are you done? Get back in the car!" I run off, screaming "FUCK OFF! I FUCKING HATE YOU!" He repeatedly called me, trying to get me to come back. Every time, I'd answer with swears at the top of my lungs. I never knew I was capable of such foul words. I was the quiet kid who never swore in school, and now here I was, saying stuff like "I hope you die homeless and alone, " "you only care about the money in your bank account, " "you do not deserve to be a father, go drink your problems off" you know, every horrible insult I could think of.

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I ran two towns over to a Dunkin' Donuts, called my mom, and had her drive me back home while my dad stayed in the basement to avoid contact.

fighting against dad