See, my son has always loved baseball, so we signed him up for the little leagues as soon as we could.
And just like a younger version of me…he was not exactly “gifted” athletically. Heck, let’s be honest, he was slow, awkward, and uncoordinated compared to all the other kids.
Even though I could see the defeat in his face every time he came home from practice…I told myself he’d turn the corner somehow. That this whole experience would toughen him up
And then came that one fateful game…
My son was in the outfield (like always) when the ball hit him straight in the nose.
He crumpled to the ground howling in pain, so my Papa Instincts kicked in and I ran across the field to try to help him out.
Little did I know I was only making things worse.
Because as I ran across the field, all the other kids started laughing and calling out jokes.
“Look! Joey’s dad runs like a girl too!”
“Here comes daddy to save his little baby!”
“Is Daddy gonna cry too?”
I was humiliated…and by the time I reached my son he smacked my hand away and told me to leave him alone.
That’s when the reality hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was the one who failed my son.
I had spent his whole life setting a bad example…and here he was paying the price for it.
Because I never taught him how to confront problems head-on. I never taught him how to make himself stronger or stick out in times of struggle.