Rebel Talk: Quiet on the Sidelines

This weekend, I found myself in what has become a familiar place this year—out at the baseball fields, this time for my son’s state tournament. The kind of weekend packed with excitement, dust, cheering, and sunburned foreheads. But it’s also the kind of weekend that brings together the same circle of parents… the ones you see at every game, every practice, every away trip.

You cheer together. You root for the same kids. You share folding chairs, snacks, and the occasional sun umbrella. But outside of baseball? Most of us don’t really know each other.

And for someone like me…
That can be a weird space.

I’ve always admired people who are naturals at small talk—the ones who can effortlessly spark a conversation about the weather, last night’s Twins game, or some player’s on-base percentage. They glide from topic to topic, and it all seems so easy. Comfortable.

That’s not me.

Don’t get me wrong—I’ll talk your ear off if the topic is business, mindset, life, hobbies I take interest in, or chasing your dreams. I’ll lean all the way in when it comes to grit, growth, and the real, raw stuff.
But small talk?
That light chatter about stuff I don’t follow or don’t connect with?
I shut down.

Not because I don’t care about the people around me. I do.
But because my brain doesn’t do “lukewarm.” I’m either on or I’m off.

And this weekend, I found myself off more than once.

There were moments I sat quietly while others laughed over last year’s bracket or compared pitching stats. I stood in the circle, but felt on the edge of it. I watched the game with pride, took in the joy on my son’s face, but also wrestled with my own internal dialogue:

Why does this feel awkward?
Why can’t I just be more like them?
Is something wrong with me for not being more “in” to this stuff?

 

But here’s the truth I keep coming back to—and maybe you need to hear this too:

Just showing up matters.

You don’t need to be the loudest voice in the crowd, the smoothest talker on the sidelines, or the parent who knows every stat and swing.
Sometimes being there, fully present, even if you’re quiet…
That is enough.

I was there.
I watched every pitch.
I celebrated every hit.
I gave high-fives and carried coolers and made memories with my kid.
And in those quieter moments—the ones between the innings and inside my own head—I realized…

It’s okay to not fit the mold.
It’s okay to be a little different.
It’s okay to not “blend.”
Because we weren’t made to.

If you’re like me—more comfortable with depth than small talk, more intentional than easygoing, more observer than extrovert—you’re not broken. You’re just wired to feel deeply.
To think more than you speak.
To listen, absorb, and reflect.

That doesn’t make you less than. It makes you you.

And honestly? I think our kids notice that more than we realize.
They see us show up, support, love—and that’s the connection that matters most.

So to the other quiet Rebels on the sideline…
To the ones who feel like they don’t quite fit in with the crowd chatter,
To the ones who show up in silence but love loud in action—

You’re doing just fine.

You aren't "weird". It doesn't need to be awkward.

Keep showing up.
Keep being you.
Because presence isn’t about performance—it’s about being there when it counts.

Keep showing up, even when the words don’t come easy.

You’re a Relentless Rebel. Not a talk show host.
And that’s more than enough.

Stay Relentless,

Ryan