Ivan Illustrations ANGER

[ILLUSTRATION 1 — PLACEMENT: directly under the Aristotle quote]

“The Aristotle Anger Console”

Scene: The family is at the kitchen table before a match. Dad is holding a coffee. Mom has a clipboard. Son is tying shoes, half-listening.
Visual gag (smart): On the wall is a sleek “ANGER SETTINGS” console like a thermostat panel with five dials labeled:

Right Person
Right Degree
Right Time
Right Purpose
Right Way

Dad’s finger is hovering over a giant red “EASY MODE” button labeled “ANYBODY CAN”, while Mom gently blocks his hand with two fingers like a calm bouncer. Son glances up like: “Please don’t press that.”
Tone: clean, modern, subtle humor (not cartoonish).
Optional caption: “Anger isn’t the issue. Calibration is.”

[ILLUSTRATION 2 — PLACEMENT: after “Anger… almost ambient, a low-grade fever…” paragraph]

“Ambient Anger Weather Report”

Scene: The family is in a grocery store line + parking lot mashup (split-panel or single wide scene).
Dad is in the checkout line watching a person argue over coupons. Mom is calm, holding a shopping list. Son is holding a racket bag like he just came from practice.
Visual: Above them floats a weather graphic like a local forecast:

“TODAY’S CONDITIONS: 82% chance of irritation.”
A little icon of a cloud labeled “SIDEWAYS GLANCE”
A barometer that reads “LOW-GRADE FEVER”

Near Dad is a candy rack with a Snickers bar labeled “NOT A REAL SOLUTION” while Dad stares at it like it’s a medical device.

[ILLUSTRATION 3 — PLACEMENT: after “Media and the algorithm… outrage pays” paragraph]

“The Outrage Pinball Machine (Algorithm Edition)”

Scene: Son is on the couch scrolling his phone. Dad leans over his shoulder “just checking scores.” Mom stands behind them with a calm expression.
Visual metaphor: The phone screen is drawn like a pinball machine. The ball is labeled “Nervous System.” Bumpers are labeled:

“Hot Take”
“Trigger Clip”
“Comment War”
“Breaking: Outrage”
And the scoreboard at top reads: “ENGAGEMENT +++”
In the corner is a tiny, ignored exit door labeled “LOG OFF.” Mom is pointing at the exit door like: “That one.”
Optional caption: “The machine isn’t broken. It’s profitable.”

[ILLUSTRATION 4 — PLACEMENT: after “Evolution wired it into us as a security system… duality” paragraph]

“Anger: Smoke Alarm vs Flamethrower”

Scene: At home. Dad is holding a literal smoke detector in one hand (labeled “ANGER”), and in the other hand is a fire extinguisher labeled “EQ.”
Son stands nearby with a tennis ball in one hand and a match in the other (symbolizing “small spark” moments).
Mom is in the background calmly holding a small card: “What boundary got crossed?”
Witty twist: A thought bubble from Dad shows two options:

“Smoke Alarm: useful”
“Flamethrower:…tempting”
The flamethrower is drawn small and symbolic, not violent.
Optional caption: “Same signal. Different response.”

[ILLUSTRATION 5 — PLACEMENT: in Tennis section near “off-ramps… highway exits” paragraph]

“The Emotional Off-Ramps: Court as Highway”

Scene: The tennis court is drawn as a roadway. Son is the “driver” of a tiny car shaped like a tennis ball (or just a normal car with a ball logo). Dad and Mom are passengers in the back seat — Dad leaning forward like a nervous co-pilot, Mom steady.
Signs along the road:
Exit 1: “Annoyed”
Exit 2: “Frustrated”
Exit 3: “Impatient”
Exit 4: “Resentful”
Exit 5: “Hostile”
Final sign: “ANGER — NO TURNING BACK / NEXT 20 MILES”
Key detail: Mom points calmly at the “Annoyed” exit like, “Take it early.” Dad is pointing at the final exit like, “Let it ride!” Son looks conflicted.
Optional caption: “The earlier the exit, the cheaper the toll.”

[ILLUSTRATION 6 — PLACEMENT: after “What does anger actually feel like on court? Physically…” paragraph]

“Anger Body Map (Tennis Edition)”

Scene: Son on court, mid-point, drawn in simple outline. Mom and Dad are behind the fence as observers.
Overlay callouts (clean medical diagram style):

Grip: “Death clamp”
Jaw: “Locked”
Neck: “Heat rising”
Chest: “Pressure”
Vision: “Tunnel”
Feet: “Stuck in wet cement”
Witty detail: The racket has a tiny tag like a product label: “Now with 40% less feel.”
Mom’s thought bubble: “Breathe. Hands soften.”
Dad’s thought bubble: “BREAK SOMETHING.” (Mom side-eyes him.)
Optional caption: “Anger doesn’t just change your mood. It changes your biomechanics.”

[ILLUSTRATION 7 — PLACEMENT: after “Parents live in the blast radius…” paragraph]

“The Fence Signals (Silent Gasoline)”

Scene: Behind the fence: Dad is doing a subtle head shake, Mom is doing a subtle inhale/exhale, son glances over between points.
Visual metaphor: Little dotted “signal lines” travel from parents to son like Wi-Fi waves:

From Dad: SIGH / EYEBROW / HEAD SHAKE
From Mom: CALM HAND / SOFT FACE / NOD
On the court, those signals land like two icons on son’s shoulder:
a tiny match flame (Dad’s)
a tiny cooling fan (Mom’s)
Not cutesy: Keep it minimal, clean, almost diagrammatic.
Optional caption: “Kids don’t hear your thoughts. They read your face.”

[ILLUSTRATION 8 — PLACEMENT: near “you’re allowed to feel anything… guardrails… routines between points”]

“Between-Point Protocol Card”

Scene: Son at the baseline between points, holding a small laminated card in his hand. Mom and Dad both have one too — same card, same system. Family language.
Card reads (simple checklist):

Turn away / reset stance
Long exhale
Soften grip + jaw
One cue word
Pick a target
Play the next point
Witty detail: Dad’s card is slightly crumpled like he’s learning too. Mom’s is crisp. Son’s has sweat marks — real use.
Optional caption: “Doubt gets a voice. Anger gets guardrails.” (or) “You can’t stop the wave. You can learn to surf.”

Below is your text with clean bracketed placement cues dropped in, same exact format as the Fear one. I kept your prose intact—only added illustration markers + a quick designer key.

Illustration key (for your designer)

[ILLUSTRATION 1] Aristotle’s “Anger Dial” (right person / degree / time / purpose / way)
[ILLUSTRATION 2] Society’s “Ambient Anger” thermometer + Snickers non-solution
[ILLUSTRATION 3] Outrage Algorithm pinball machine
[ILLUSTRATION 4] Anger as “security system” vs “revolution fuel” (dual-use tool)
[ILLUSTRATION 5] Tennis emotional “highway exits” (annoyed → frustrated → resentful → ANGER)
[ILLUSTRATION 6] On-court anger physiology overlay (tight grip / hot neck / tunnel vision)
[ILLUSTRATION 7] Parents in the blast radius (silent signals = gasoline)
[ILLUSTRATION 8] “Guardrails” EQ toolkit: between-point routine as a calm protocol

YOUR TEXT (ANNOTATED)

"Anybody can become angry; that is easy. But to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way—that is not within everybody's power and is not easy". Aristotle
[ILLUSTRATION 1: Aristotle’s Anger Dial — a dashboard with five knobs: PERSON / DEGREE / TIME / PURPOSE / WAY; most set to “??”; one labeled “EASY” stuck at max]

Anger in modern society has become almost ambient, a low-grade fever we all seem to be running. One parking spot, one cut in line, one sideways glance, real or imagined, and suddenly its on. Blood rushes, veins pulse, temples bulge, we go from zero to red-lining in an instant, inches from making a life-altering choice with nary a thought. We joke about getting “hangry,” but there's nothing funny feeling like you're going to snap. We reference Anger Management as if it were a national documentary, but underneath the humor is a real truth: impulse control is a serious problem, and when anger runs the show, consequences follow. Look no further than our overcrowded prisons for the cost of unchecked fury. For those with the proverbial short fuse, anger never starts at zero; it’s always simmering, percolating, a volcano always low-grade spewing, just looking to erupt. The parking lot becomes a warzone. A grocery line a true test of character. If only a Snickers bar were truly a remedy
[ILLUSTRATION 2: Ambient Anger Thermometer — a city scene with a giant “ANGER TEMP” gauge reading “Low-grade fever”; grocery line + parking lot as tiny warzones; a Snickers labeled “Not FDA Approved”]

Yet anger isn’t some modern invention; it’s been with us since the beginning, one of the most deeply human emotions we have. Evolution wired it into us as a security system — a surge of energy signaling that something is amiss, that something is being threatened and worth defending. Every culture has wrestled with its duality: on one hand, dangerous and destabilizing; on the other, the fuel for courage, protest, and change. Without anger, very little progress ever takes root. It’s the emotional accelerant of revolution, the declaration that something must be confronted and changed. It’s Howard Beale in Network shouting, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore,” a line that might as well be stitched into the fabric of every social movement ever born.
[ILLUSTRATION 4: Dual-Use Anger Tool — a simple Swiss-army-knife labeled ANGER with two blades: “BOUNDARY / PROTECT” and “BURN IT ALL DOWN”; caption: “Same tool. Different handling.”]

And you don’t need a psychology degree to see how anger animates everyday life now. Just merge onto any freeway: wannabe NASCAR drivers cutting, weaving, tailgating like they’re drafting for Daytona. Road rage has become its own subculture — horns blaring, fingers flying, people risking their freedom and their bodily safety over a missed blinker. Gyms are filled with “roid rage”, airports have become pressure cookers, one flight delay away from anarchy, with cabin videos going viral as passengers melt down over masks, armrests, and seatbacks. And then there are the Karen episodes — smartphone-era folklore capturing eruptions of entitlement in Costco checkout lines across America. We don’t just get angry anymore; we broadcast it, we trend, we turn it into entertainment. Anger has become both the show and the showrunner of modern life.

Art and music have always been emotional harbingers, and they know anger well. Rage Against the Machine literally made rage their brand. Hip-hop was born out of marginalization and anger, rapping truth to power. Banksy and grafitti artists splash Protest against city walls. Shakespeare’s tragedies, wrapped in the soothing prose of ionic pentameter reek of anger at the social injustice of his time Even our comic-books express latent anger, the Incredible Hulk as a walking metaphor for repressed rage, a superpower and curse in the same green package.

Media and the algorithm, meanwhile, have figured out that outrage pays. Clicks, comments, engagement and trolling, all of it spikes when we’re mad. Every scroll another invitation to react. Courtroom tirades, revenge plots, angry hero movie posters with fists and jaws clenched, anger is packaged as entertainment. Online, we peddle in it. We’re overstimulated and under-regulated, our nervous systems turned into pinball machines that light up every time we're offended.
[ILLUSTRATION 3: Outrage Algorithm Pinball — person as pinball; bumpers labeled “HOT TAKE,” “TRIGGER,” “ENGAGEMENT”; scoreboard reads “COMMENTS ↑”; tiny exit sign “LOG OFF”]

Philosophers and spiritual traditions have been trying to talk us off the anger ledge for centuries. The Stoics saw anger as the enemy of wisdom. Buddhists call it one of the three poisons. Christianity warns about wrath as a deadly sin. Motivation and Denigration, we see the duality: uncontrolled anger is dangerous; unexpressed anger in the face of injustice is moral failure. We all have boundaries that require an angry response when crossed.

Underneath it all sits a simple evolutionary truth: anger has a job. It protects and defends, kicking the body into fight-or-flight gear to best face down threats. It establishes boundaries by signaling that's matters have gone too far and you best not do that again. Anger motivates action in the face of injustice, and it polices fairness so we keep some semblance of order. In that sense, anger has always been part survival system, part glue to our social fabric.

Anger by itself is not the problem; it’s what happens when we fail to move past that first surge. Left unchecked, anger is life-altering and will eat us alive, hardening perceptions into resentments or worse. It gives a false sense of righteousness. Chronic anger masks what often needs feeling, grief, sadness, fear. It’s a solution that becomes worse than the original problem, with the cost almost always disconnection with others and ourselves. We can’t stay perpetually outraged and have any chance at a healthy balanced life.

That’s why emotional intelligence doesn’t ask us to eliminate anger; it asks us to guide it. If we can notice ourselves at annoyed instead of waiting until furious, we actually have choices. The work is to read the message before reacting to it, to be able to walk the feeling back: What boundary got crossed? What value feels threatened? What pain is hiding under this rage? When anger meets awareness, it can provide us clarity. The goal isn’t a world without anger; it’s a world where anger is felt, understood, and directed instead of allowed to ruin the whole show.

Anger in Tennis

If society is the main stage for anger, tennis is more an intimate theater, a truly one-man show. Just you, your racing thoughts, your spiraling emotions, and an often unfriendly scoreline. Tennis' isolation chamber is fertile soil for anger.. the progression is all too familiar. Error, more errors, a little bad luck, a shady call or two, an ass in the crowd, a little tightness, self-loathing soon commences. Even someone as zen as the Buddha would get a code violation. Tennis demands control while constantly provoking emotion. Every player, from the park hacker to the Grand Slam champion, knows that surging feeling, when frustration flares and you feel like you're going to snap.
[ILLUSTRATION 5: Emotion Highway Exits — a tennis court drawn as a highway; exits: “ANNOYED,” “FRUSTRATED,” “RESENTFUL,” “HOSTILE,” last exit “ANGER (NO TURNING BACK)” with car zooming past all exits]

(Berloq) Cathartic (make a GIF)

In a competitive tennis player, anger is an extreme emotional response to perceived injustices, mistakes, or obstacles during training or matches. It can show up as mild irritation or full-on rage, but the common denominator is this: it’s a sign of being badly out of balance, a complete abdication of our emotional regulation work. By the time we’re in fury or wrath, we’ve blown past a lot of emotional off-ramps: frustration, annoyance, impatience, resentment, hostility. Picture a highway with exits labeled along the way and “ANGER” way out near the end. Most of us miss every exit, then act surprised when we end up in the bad part of emotion's town.

What does anger actually feel like on court? Emotionally, it’s a spike of intense irritation or indignation. Physically, heart rates jump, muscles tighten, heat rises up the neck, hands tremble, vision narrows. Thoughts speed up and get loud; focus scatters. Anger manifests as racket slams, ball abuse, yelling, stomping, pacing, wild gesturing. Or it flips the other direction into withdrawal — checked-out affect, tanking, or quitting. Inside, the self-talk turns punishing. You're losing your shit again. How much damage will you do this time?
[ILLUSTRATION 6: Anger Physiology Overlay — player silhouette with callouts: “HOT NECK,” “TIGHT GRIP,” “TUNNEL VISION,” “RACING THOUGHTS”; a small scoreboard bubble: “2 points ago you were fine.”]

The triggers are the usual suspects: unforced errors at the worst moments, bad calls that feel personal, opponents who celebrate a little too hard, pressure scorelines, barking parents, chirping spectators, swirling wind, brutal heat, your own expectations. Often we bring the ingredients for a bad day to our tennis feast. A bad day at school or work, fighting with a loved one, nothing seeming to go your way. The court from afar appears neutral, benign even, but nobody shows up to compete emotionally neutral. Bad tennis on a bad day just accentuates the bad mood you brought with you, often resulting in anger.

Junior tennis is where you see anger in its rawest form. Kids haven’t developed the software for self-regulation yet. They live fully in the moment, unfiltered. Racquets fly. Tears spill. Screams echo throughout indoor facilities. Parents flinch and pretend not to know you. On the surface, it looks like petulant entitlement and immaturity; underneath, it’s deeper. We're not just mad about losing a point, we're terrified of what losing that point means: My sense of self, my hard fought identity is being threatened. Am I a choker? Do I really suck this bad? Am I disappoint to my parents? Tennis' Scarlet Letters cut deep to our innermost selves

Parents live in the blast radius. Their own anger leaks through with every sigh, every head shake, every dismissive comment. A routine miss becomes a family referendum. I’ve seen fathers turn red behind the windscreens, mothers bury their faces in towels. They think they're being discreet, but kids are smart, they sense all of it. If the adults can’t manage their anger just sitting there watching, what chance does a kid have?
[ILLUSTRATION 7: Blast Radius — family behind fence; parent “micro-signals” labeled SIGH / HEAD SHAKE / TOWEL FACE; kid on court inside a dotted “blast radius” circle]

On the pro tour, anger turns into theater. McEnroe’s rants, Serena’s roars, Kyrgios’s combustions, Baghdatis going through a half-dozen rackets in a minute. Let's face it, in a sport sleepy with storylines, anger becomes content. Clips replayed on loop, commentators analyzing body language, crowds half-horrified, half-thrilled. Anger sells. But beneath the spectacle, even the greats are paying a price. Anger consumes energy. It hijacks decision-making. Hence all of tennis' most identifiable tics. Nadal’s rituals, Djokovic’s ball bouncing, Sharapova's pre-serve routine, those aren’t simply quirks; they’re emotional-management systems, ways of keeping fire in the fireplace.

Among adult recreational players, anger looks more subdued, but it’s no less real. Balls get launched over the clubhouse, you’ll hear the muttered curses, see the histrionics, feel the vibe shift when someone suddenly wants a new partner after a tough loss. The court becomes a pressure valve for everything else, work frustration, relationship tension, midlife disappointment. They’re not just mad at their spraying ways, they’re channeling all their life angst into Tuesday-night doubles league. Good luck with all that.

Short-term, anger wrecks performance: focus drifts, coordination slips, shot selection gets reckless if not foolish, aggression turns into spray-and-pray tennis, and energy drains fast. Your RPMs are revving hot. Engines and tennis players are not their most efficient that revved up. Long-term, if anger is your default operating system, there will be a pricey bill to pay; chronic stress, burnout, muscle tension that leads to injury, a reputation that precedes you, a slow erosion of joy. One fundamental tenet of making it in the tennis life is being someone people want to play tennis with. Constant raging ain't the way.

From an emotional-intelligence lens, anger on court is potential energy. Handled consciously, it can sharpen attention, reignite determination, and motivate better intensity. Handled recklessly, it’s pure self-sabotage. That’s why anger management isn’t some soft add-on in tennis; it’s core performance work. Routines between points. Breathing patterns to calm the nervous system. Reframing thoughts — from I fucking suck; to slow down, the pause when agitated ethos. I advise practicing frustration in training, so it’s not a foreign sensation on match day. Learn to identify your triggers, remain keenly mindful to the first signs of anger emerging, and intervene with something as simple as mantras and affirmations to talk yourself off the ledge.
[ILLUSTRATION 8: Guardrails Toolkit — a “BETWEEN-POINT PROTOCOL” card: BREATHE / RELAX GRIP / ONE CUE WORD / TARGET / TEMPO; anger shown as fire being placed back “in the fireplace,” not on the curtains]

As a coach, I tell my students: you’re allowed to feel anything, but you are not allowed to act out everything. Anger needs guardrails. The goal isn’t to eliminate it, but to tend it. We teach mindfulness, visualization, positive self-talk, and, most importantly, self-responsibility: Nobody is coming to save you, you have to be able to regulate yourself, and that all starts by emotional awareness, especially regarding anger, an invaluable skill for arenas far more important than a tennis court.

If you want, I can also do a second pass that keeps the same recurring “FBTL tennis family” characters (Mom/Dad/son) visually consistent across Fear/Anger/Anxiety—so your illustrator can build a recognizable cast and your readers feel the continuity.

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