Nobody Can Want It For You

I hope this post helps some young people out there, but really it’s a message we all need to hear at different times, so here goes … 

Recently, I was chatting with a Dad of a 16-year-old son.

His son is a sophomore in high school and a talented baseball player. He’s already 6-foot-2 and a power-hitting third baseman. He has the potential to develop into a Division 1 player.

The Dad, knowing I played college baseball, began asking me questions about how to help his son get a college opportunity.

• What travel teams should he join? 

• What college camps should he attend? 

• Should he get him personalized training?

• Are there specific skills he needs to focus on?

Things like that.

The conversation made me reflect on my own childhood and path.

I was obsessed with baseball growing up.

Still in diapers, I would play “catch” with my Dad with rolled up socks. As a young kid, I spent hours in the backyard hitting wiffle balls, and if I lost those, I’d pick flower buds off the trees and hit those (I’m sure Mom loved that!).

I loved practice. Some of my best childhood memories are just my Dad and me on an empty field, him hitting me grounders or fly balls. I never remember wanting to stop.

I played Fall Ball, travel ball and into the summer (I also played other sports until sophomore year of high school - that’s important!). When I wasn’t playing baseball, I was watching it.

In middle school, I began going a few nights a week to my pitching coach’s house to train. I traveled a few times to Arizona for one-on-one instruction and to play in highly scouted travel tournaments.

My parents saw my love for baseball and poured fuel on it.

“But you know what my Dad never did for me?” I told this father with the 16-year-old son. “He never wanted any of it for me.”

Sure, I imagine my Dad loved having a son who loved baseball like he did.

And I know he enjoyed the heck out of watching me play until 21 years old.

But he didn’t care if I played baseball or not. He didn’t make me do any of the training or the practices or thousands of repetitions to get better. If my passions suddenly changed, we would have been done with baseball and he would have supported me on the next challenge.

I reflected on all of this as I listened to this Dad’s earnest and loving questions about his son.

When he paused, I told him:

“These are great questions – I can tell how much you love your son. What I would say to most of these is, it doesn’t really matter.”

It doesn’t really matter what travel ball team he plays on, or what college camps he goes to, or what private instruction he gets, or what recruiting videos he sends out.

Because ultimately, he can’t “want it” for his son.

If his son loves the game, he’ll work at it. 

If he works at it, he’ll improve. 

If he improves, he’ll have success on the field.

If he has success on the field, he’ll get college opportunities.

But if his son doesn’t want it himself? Nothing else will matter.

And that’s the main takeaway for today: Nobody can want the thing for you.

Want to be a doctor? Want to be an entrepreneur? Want to be a great parent? Want to work in ministry? Want to improve your health? Want to improve your finances? Want to get into your dream college? Want to …

Awesome. Go do it. 

You will know when you really “want it.” You will be energized by the work. You will get lost in the process. You will be excited by the challenge. You will enjoy the mundane parts of the pursuit.

And if you don’t currently feel that way, that’s okay.

But maybe it’s time for self-reflection and a step of faith in the direction your heart is pulling you.

Because nobody can want “it” for you.

One Good Thing

Tom Horner, an educator in Minnesota and a loyal reader of The Process, had me on his podcast recently. Tom wanted to discuss a concept I’ve written about before called The Golden Opportunity.

The Bible says in this life we will face tribulation – it’s guaranteed – and The Golden Opportunity is a mental framework that can help you recognize these moments and respond productively to adversity.

Thanks for having me, Tom, and I hope the conversation is encouraging to some of your students and their parents.

Listen here: Apple Podcasts | Spotify

Thanks for reading.

Do you know someone who would enjoy The Process? Forward this email to them and help our community grow. If you were forwarded this email, you can subscribe here.

Did this email resonate with you? Reply and let me know. I love hearing from readers.

Have a great week, y’all.

Teddy is the author of The Process. Feel free to reach out on LinkedIn or X, or reply to this email.