Sep 20, 2026

Rebel Talk: Line Up

I’ve missed the last couple weeks of writing.

That’s not really like me.

I’ve tried to make these blogs something I stay consistent with, even when life gets busy. Maybe especially when life gets busy. Writing has become one of those things that forces me to slow down for a minute and actually think about what’s happening around me instead of just moving on to the next thing.

But lately, life has been moving pretty damn fast.

Summer is disappearing. School is back in session. Baseball has given way to football. I’m working on new deals in my other business, still working through the process of building a house, trying to finish out my hangar before another Minnesota winter shows up, and slowly shutting down the cabin up north for the season.

It feels like everything is changing seasons at once.

And maybe that’s what has been on my mind lately.

My oldest son is playing tackle football for the first time this year.

I love that he decided to do it.

He’s walking into a sport where a lot of these kids have already been playing for four or five years. Some of them know the systems. They know the positions. They’ve been hitting and getting hit for years.

He hasn’t.

But every practice, he throws himself right into it. He goes against some of the toughest hitters on the team. He’s trying to learn. Trying to get better. Trying to prove to himself that he belongs out there.

And he doesn’t get a ton of playing time.

That part can be hard.

It’s different from baseball. Baseball is something he’s good at. He plays a lot. He knows where he fits. There’s confidence that comes from having success at something for years.

Football doesn’t give him that yet.

And I actually think there’s something really valuable in that.

At his last game, they finally threw him a pass.

His first target.

He dropped it.

Next play?

False start.

As a dad, there’s a part of you that wants so badly for that first pass to stick. You want him to have that moment. You want to see him come back to the huddle smiling because all those practices and all that waiting finally paid off.

Instead, he dropped it.

Then made another mistake immediately afterward.

And I had to remind myself of something I’ve probably told my boys a hundred different ways over the years.

Growth isn’t supposed to look perfect.

I told him I didn’t even start playing football until my freshman year of high school.

He’s ahead of where I was.

More importantly, he’s doing something uncomfortable. He’s showing up when he knows he might not play much. He’s competing against kids with years more experience than him. He’s putting himself in situations where he might fail in front of everybody.

That takes something.

When kids are little, sports are different. There are multiple teams. Everybody gets opportunities. Everybody gets innings, shifts, snaps, at-bats.

Then they get older.

The teams start consolidating.

The competition gets tougher.

Playing time gets harder to earn.

And pretty soon high school comes, and it gets narrowed down even further.

That can be difficult to watch as a parent.

You spend their younger years trying to protect them, encourage them and build them up. Then, little by little, you realize your job is changing.

You can't catch the pass for them.

You can't take the hit for them.

You can't guarantee them playing time.

All you can really do is stand on the sideline, remind them who they are, and teach them that one bad play doesn't get to decide the next one.

Sports aren't everything.

Far from it.

But the experiences can teach you a hell of a lot about life.

Sometimes you're the starter.

Sometimes you're standing on the sideline waiting for your number.

Sometimes the ball finally comes your way and you drop it.

What matters is whether you're willing to line up again.

I've been thinking about that as I've watched both of my boys navigate getting older. The struggles change. The conversations change. The things I can fix for them become fewer and fewer.

That's hard.

But it's also exactly what is supposed to happen.

They're becoming their own people.

And while all of that has been happening, life everywhere else has kept moving too.

My girlfriend's youngest recently had his confirmation. Another one of those milestones that quietly reminds you that these kids aren't staying little.

I've been working through new business deals. We're still working through plans for the new house. I've been trying to get the hangar finished up before winter. And up north, it's already time to start putting summer away.

I actually flew up to the cabin for a day recently just because things needed to get done.

Boats out.

Dock out.

Grass cut.

Water winterized.

Then get back in the airplane and fly home.

There wasn't anything glamorous about it. It was one of those days where you look at the list and know there isn't anybody coming to magically take care of it.

It just has to get done.

And there's still another trip waiting for me.

But one trip up there this summer wasn't about work.

Over Labor Day, I finally got my parents up to see the place.

The cabin still isn't really set up for a bunch of people to stay comfortably. There's plenty left to do. But my girlfriend and I brought my parents up, and for a little while none of that mattered.

Years ago—probably more than fifteen years now—my dad and I deer hunted that area together.

This time, we went fishing.

And somehow my dad ended up catching the biggest walleye.

Not only did he catch the biggest fish, he broke his fishing rod doing it.

We laughed.

It was one of those ridiculous little moments that you couldn't plan if you tried.

And it was perfect.

I've been fortunate enough to do some incredible things in my life. I've built businesses. I've traveled. I've learned to fly an airplane. I've taken on projects that once seemed impossible.

But I'm learning more and more that some of the moments that stay with you aren't the big accomplishments.

They're your dad standing there with a broken fishing rod and a big walleye.

They're watching your son line up for another play after dropping the last one.

They're having your parents standing on a piece of ground that you've dreamed about building something on.

They're watching kids you remember being little reach milestones like confirmation.

They're ordinary moments that don't feel quite as ordinary when you realize how quickly the seasons are changing.

Maybe that's why I've missed writing the last couple weeks.

I've been running.

Trying to be a dad.

Trying to be a partner.

Trying to run businesses.

Trying to build things.

Trying to finish things.

Trying to prepare for what's next.

And somewhere in there, I needed the reminder that life isn't only the things we're trying to finish.

Life is also what's happening while we're finishing them.

There will always be another deal.

Another project.

Another piece of equipment that needs to be put away.

Another building to finish.

Another list waiting tomorrow morning.

But there won't always be another first year of tackle football.

There won't always be another afternoon fishing with Dad.

There won't always be kids living under our roofs, needing rides to practice, leaving cleats by the door and filling up calendars that sometimes feel impossible to manage.

Someday, we might actually miss the chaos we're trying so hard to keep up with right now.

That's something I'm trying to remember.

The seasons keep changing whether we're ready or not.

Summer turns into fall.

Baseball turns into football.

Kids become teenagers.

Parents get older.

Dreams that once seemed far away become projects sitting right in front of us.

And eventually, the things we're building today become the memories we look back on.

So keep building.

Keep showing up.

Take the hit.