“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

Jeremiah 29:11

Living a dream

At 12 years old, I was living a dream.I had been selected to the All-Star team to represent East Vale Little League, and I was a catcher—starting catcher. I felt proud, grateful, and ready to give everything I had for my teammates.But one moment during that tournament changed the way I saw baseball for a long time.

The day my body said “not today”

One day, I wasn’t feeling well. My knees were hurting, my body felt off, and I could tell something wasn’t right.So I did what I thought was the responsible thing.I went to my coach and told him, “Coach, I can’t catch today. My knees hurt. I don’t feel good. I don’t feel well.”I wasn’t trying to be dramatic. I wasn’t trying to get out of work. I was trying to be honest.

The words I didn’t expect

Out of nowhere, the coach started berating me.He belittled me. He told me I needed to “step up for the team,” that I needed to “suck it up,” and he said things no adult should ever say to a 12-year-old kid.I remember standing there feeling shocked—like I had done something wrong just by speaking up.I told him again, “Coach, I can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t play.”That day, he benched me.And he didn’t just bench me for that game.He benched me for the rest of the tournament.

The heartbreak that almost made me quit

I was crushed.I felt discouraged, embarrassed, and confused. I honestly remember feeling like life wasn’t fair—like I tried to do the right thing, and it backfired.And I’m not going to lie: I almost felt like quitting the game right then and there.When you’re 12, you don’t have all the words for it. You just know something inside you got hurt.

My dad’s story: a different field, the same pain

I shared what happened with my parents, and my dad opened up about something that happened to him when he was a baseball player.

He told me that when he was 17 years old—back around 1990—he was a talented player withbl a promising future in baseball.

He played for a Travel Ball team and competed at a high level, and they made it to a championship game in Ohio.

In that final championship game, the starting catcher got hurt around the third inning.My dad was the second-string catcher, so he started putting on his gear—mask, chest protector, everything—thinking, “This is my moment. I’m going in.”

But instead of calling him, the coach called a different player to catch.A player who had never caught before.

My dad said he felt stunned. Angry. Humiliated. He couldn’t understand why a coach would make that decision in the biggest moment—especially when a trained catcher was ready.

And that moment didn’t just hurt.It changed his life.Because of that coach, my dad quit baseball.

For years, he carried resentment and anger. And even more than that, he carried regret—regret that he allowed one coach’s decision to destroy his dreams.

But then he told me something that stuck with me:Years later, he forgave that coach.Not because what happened was okay.But because he didn’t want anger and bitterness to keep owning a piece of his heart.

Everything has a reason- and a purpose

My dad also shared something deeper with me over time.

He told me that later in life he came to understand and accept that everything happens for a reason—and that even painful moments can have purpose.

He said he realized it wasn’t his destiny to be a professional baseball player.

God had a different plan.

God’s plan was for him to become a father to an MLB player—and to raise up a man of God.

And my dad constantly tells me that someday I will make it to the Big Leagues because God has gifted me with many gifts and talents.

He tells me I’m destined for great things.

Not because life is easy.Not because coaches always get it right.But because God is faithful, and He can redeem what hurts

The moment I realized I didn’t want to carry this forever

Hearing my dad’s story helped me see something:

Pain in sports is real. Words from leaders can cut deep. And sometimes the people who are supposed to build you up can be the ones who break you down.

But it also showed me something else.I didn’t want to let one moment dictate my future.And here’s the part that still surprises me:

Recently, I ran into that coach.And you know what?I didn’t feel anger.I didn’t feel bitterness.I chose forgiveness.Not because he needed it.

Because I needed to let go.I needed to heal.

What I learned (and what I hope coaches remember)

This experience taught me a few things I’ll never forget:

• There’s a difference between toughness and cruelty. Real toughness is built with truth, patience, and love—not humiliation.
• Kids are still kids. You can demand effort without destroying a child’s confidence.
• Speaking up matters. If you’re hurt, if you’re not well, it’s okay to say something. Your health is not weakness.
• Forgiveness is freedom. Forgiveness doesn’t rewrite the past—it releases your future.

My message to the player who feels benched in life

If you’ve ever been unfairly benched—on the field or in life—don’t let that moment become your identity.Don’t let one person’s lack of empathy become the story you tell yourself about your worth.God can take what was meant to break you and use it to build something stronger in you.And I’m choosing to believe this:That one moment will not dictate my future.

A short prayer

God, heal the places in us that were wounded by words we didn’t deserve. Give us wisdom to lead with compassion, strength to keep going when life feels unfair, and the courage to forgive so we can be free. Amen.