Most families don’t enter youth sports with long-term strategies or end goals in mind. They’re simply trying to offer a healthy outlet, a chance to explore, and an opportunity for their kids to form connections. I often think of those early days the same way you might think about socializing a puppy at the dog park—low stakes, lots of curiosity, and the hope that they're ready for a long nap once they get home. Early choices tend to be practical, not aspirational. Find a team

I know this landscape well because I helped shape it for 16 years. But as the system expands, it’s worth asking: are we still building pathways for kids, or just infrastructure for a marketplace? Over the holidays, I read testimony from Tom Farrey, Executive Director of the Aspen Institute’s Sports & Society Program, delivered before a House subcommittee focused on youth development. The Aspen Institute’s Sports & Society Program—best known for its Project Play  initiative—h

My boys and I were at a recent mass for my Father-in-law's funeral. As our parents age, I find myself trying to view seasons through their eyes. “As you grow older, you begin to understand: your father was just a man trying his best with what he knew. Forgive him. He was living life for the first time, too.” That quote crossed my social media feed sometime last week. It stopped me in my tracks. The kind of line you screenshot, not to repost, but to sit with. To let its meanin

As we head into a holiday weekend, I'm struck by how chaos can sometimes be comfort in disguise. Sam enjoying his youngest Grandson on a random holiday. Last week, my father-in-law, Sam, passed away after a long fight with Alzheimer’s. It’s a strange kind of heartbreak — the kind where sadness and relief show up together. Relief that he’s finally at peace. Relief that my wife, my sister-in-law, and my mother-in-law no longer have to brace themselves for his confusion about wh

Notes on fatherhood, time, and getting back to the page. I started this blog back in March as a form of catharsis. A place to process life out loud—both the joyful and the jarring—and maybe offer something that resonates with others navigating their own versions of fatherhood, change, and growth. And just like that, they're in 10th and 12th grade. For the first few months, I stayed consistent. The rhythm of writing grounded me. But somewhere along the way, life picked up spee

Three Stories, One Hope, and the Road Ahead A few years ago, a friend asked how I thought Sarah and I were doing as parents. I remember answering, "I think we're doing okay… but check back in about fifteen years for a more definitive answer."  It seems like yesterday. They were so little. But even at a young age, we stretched to give them freedom to explore. That conversation has stuck with me. It's become a quiet prompt, reminding me to step back now and then and ask, How ar

I came across a LinkedIn post recently that made me pause. The author laid out a framework for thinking about youth sports, dividing them into two categories: pickup  and organized . In their view, the dividing line was attendance, and whether missing a team activity without a clearly justified reason (like a wedding, funeral, or school event) led to consequences. If a player missed a session without consequence, and the absence wasn’t justified by a reason of a “higher order

Mile Markers, Memories, and What Comes Next Last week, our family packed into the car and set out on a road trip, first to Boise, Idaho, then on to Salt Lake City. On paper, it was about soccer and college tours: Rocco competing at the Far West Regionals, Gio guest-playing for his older brother’s team, and a handful of campus visits along the way. But beneath the itinerary, it was something more. What began as a family adventure ultimately offered a glimpse of where the four

Some friendships fade away, while others remain steady. A few surprise you by going deeper when you least expect it. This is a reflection on male friendship, vulnerability, and showing up for the people who still matter. The first time I saw this, I was instantly transported to my childhood. There are a handful of memes circulating on social media, such as the one in the photo, featuring boys on bikes, quiet streets, and a haunting caption: “At some point in your childhood, y

Over the years, I’ve coached a countless number of  boys and young men. Some arrive joyful and eager. Others, quiet or unsure. But every so often, a different pattern emerges, one I’ve come to recognize all too well. Seems like so long ago. Nothing but joy and innocence. A kid with undeniable talent. Strong. Fast. Electric on the field. An uncanny feel for the game. But also: bravado. Guarded. Defiant. Sometimes smugness. Often un-coachable. And too often, shielded from accou

I think it was Sam Bidleman, my 8th-grade Computer Science teacher (and one of the most impactful educators I’ve ever known), who first introduced me to Moore’s Law: the idea that the number of transistors on a microchip doubles roughly every two years, effectively doubling computing power. Recently, I came across an Axios article quoting Dario Amodei, CEO of Anthropic , who warns that AI could eliminate up to 50% of entry-level white-collar jobs within the next 1 to 5 years.

This weekend reminded me that growth isn’t linear, presence is enough, and the best thing we can do is give our kids the space to surprise us. This past weekend, I spent my time watching the boys compete in their hometown soccer tournament. Each of them played five games over a three-day stretch. For the first time in thirteen years, I wasn’t in charge of the tournament. And for the first time since 2009, I wasn’t consumed by working it. It felt different; there were no sched

Parenting isn’t about getting every moment right. It’s about what happens after — the pause, the ownership, and the quiet work of showing up better. Giovanni recently got his driver’s permit. This past Sunday, as he was driving the family to dinner (with Rocco and me strategically in the back seat😰), I noticed how many directions my wife and I were throwing at him. As we were getting close to the restaurant, the unsettling sound of screaming sirens from a state police car st

Two milestone moments in one day, a graduation and a wedding. Both held lessons about legacy, letting go, and the echoes we leave behind in the lives we’ve touched, especially our kids. This past Saturday, I attended a high school graduation, and later that day, the wedding of a former player I had the privilege of coaching through her high school years, a player and a family I hold dear. The day was full of metaphors, about time, seasons, chapters, and full of calls toward c

Our roles in life change; they always do. The real question is whether they define us or shape part of who we are. It’s a question I’ve asked myself often over the past few years—an interesting, and at times uncomfortable, paradox. Fortunately, I’ve spent several years working with Aaron Goldman from Playfree Sports , building a mental performance coaching program for the Rogue Valley Timbers. A core part of that program focused on handling pressure in context and, more impor

What a car ride home taught me about being present. This past weekend, Rocco's team played in the Oregon State Cup semifinal. After tying the game midway through the second half, they gave up a heartbreaking late winner on a free kick. Despite leaving their hearts on the field, they came up short. As the referee signaled the end, I noticed Rocco lingering near his goal box, hands on his hips, locked in stillness as the other players shook hands and slowly drifted away. He sto

Games are meant to be fun. But who gets to define what “fun” really means? We hear it all the time from coaches, parents, and even athletes: "It’s just a game, we’re here to have fun."  But whose definition of fun are they talking about? Sometimes we need to meet our kids where they're at. All too often, as parents, we view our child’s world through an adult lens, or worse, through the lens of what was fun for us when we were kids.  But do we really give our children the spac

It’s no accident that emotional intelligence is often derided as “soft.” In a culture that equates vulnerability with defeat, a man who listens deeply, shares emotions, or admits uncertainty risks being labeled less than “manly.”

Their stumbles now are what help them build the resilience they’ll need to thrive later. When Sarah was pregnant with Rocco, I came home one afternoon to find a "must-have" baby catalog on the kitchen table. We'd already ticked off the essentials: Diaper Genie, crib, fancy stroller, plus a half-dozen gadgets I'd never heard of, check, check, check. Then Sarah pointed out the one we'd missed: baby knee pads . "Why on earth do we need those?" I asked, trying to stay polite. Sar

No college scouts are watching 5th-grade games, and no one will remember that undefeated 2nd-grade season. Throughout my career, I saw it year in and year out: parents and coaches living and dying with every pass, tackle, goal, or close miss, ultimately putting undue pressure on kids to perform before they've even truly had a chance to fall in love with the game. The intense focus on winning, especially at young ages, entices parents and coaches to skip developmental steps. W