Rebel Talk: When the Jersey Doesn't Fit

Parenting is hard. Not in the “we don’t sleep much” or “there’s too much on the calendar” kind of way. Hard in the way where your heart breaks with your child’s, and you realize there’s no playbook, no “right words” to make it better.

My oldest son just had basketball tryouts. Seventh grade. That age where kids start to separate into “teams” — literally and figuratively. His school has a JV team and a Varsity team. Last year, he was a solid player, often first off the bench. This year, his friends — four of them, all short, quick guards — made Varsity. He made JV.

Now, I’m his dad. Of course I’m biased. He’s tall, he’s grown a ton this past year, and his coordination is still catching up. But when the email came in, it stung. Not because JV is bad. Not because he won’t get better. But because I knew how much it would hurt him to feel “left behind” while his friends moved up. And I had to be the one to sit with that, and then eventually break the news.

That night, I was angry. Not at him — never at him. Angry at the system, the politics, the whispers you hear in the bleachers. I saw one of the coaches the next day, and the way he talked… it was like the decision had been made before tryouts even began. That burned me up. Every instinct in me wanted to fight back, to demand answers. But I didn’t.

Then, the very next weekend, travel ball tryouts came around. My son wanted to try out, so we did. And sure enough, the gossip machine started spinning: “He can’t play both.” “What are they doing?” Parent politics, again.

Here’s the truth: I don’t care about politics. I care about my son. About his development — not just in basketball, but in life. Because this moment, this “setback,” is bigger than a roster spot.

Life will hand him more of these. Times where others get the nod. Times where he feels overlooked. Times where things don’t go the way he thinks they should. And as much as I want to clear the path for him, that’s not my job. My job is to teach him how to walk it anyway.

Here’s what I know:

• Being on JV this year might give him more playing time, more reps, more chances to grow into that tall frame.

• Playing travel ball might sharpen his skills against tougher competition.

• And most importantly, learning to stand tall — even when you feel cut down — builds a kind of resilience that no coach can hand you.

As parents, we want so badly for our kids’ journeys to be smooth. But the truth is, it’s the bumps, the rejections, the “not yet” moments that shape them into something greater.

So yes, it hurt. For him, and for me. But I told him this: You are not defined by the name on the jersey, or the level of the team. You are defined by what you do when the jersey doesn’t fit your expectations.

And that’s the lesson for all of us. Life doesn’t always put us on the team we think we belong on. But if we keep working, keep showing up, and keep playing the long game, we end up exactly where we’re meant to be.

Because champions aren’t made by being handed the spotlight. They’re made in the shadows, when no one’s watching, when it would be easier to quit.

My son is going to be just fine. In fact, he’s going to be more than fine. And so will you — if you take the setbacks in stride, and use them as fuel for your fire.

Stay Relentless,

Ryan