He Said, “I Made a Mistake Today.” A Parenting Lesson About Accountability
A school referral turned into a bedtime conversation about mistakes, accountability, and one of the most important life skills kids can learn: how to own it and move on.
The Two Circles That Changed My Life
Yesterday, my son looked at me from the pitcher's mound with tears in his eyes.
He made a small gesture toward the dugout.
"Take me out. I'm done."
A couple of routine plays hadn't been made behind him. Nothing that showed up as errors in the scorebook, but anyone who has played baseball knew they were outs that should have been recorded.
If you've watched enough baseball, you know what happens next.
One missed out becomes another baserunner.
Then another pitch.
Another hit.
An inning starts to snowball.
But I wasn't watching the inning unravel.
I was watching my son unravel.
Over the past year, he's become increasingly frustrated when his teammates don't make plays behind him. As a pitcher, I understand the feeling. It can feel like you're trying to hold back an avalanche by yourself.
The problem is that frustration doesn't help him.
It hurts him.
When Gio gets angry, he stops pitching.
He starts throwing.
His mechanics speed up. He tries to overpower hitters instead of trusting his pitches. His command disappears.
After the game, I asked him a simple question.
"When you get angry on the mound, does it help you pitch better?"
He didn't hesitate.
"No."
"What happens?"
"I try to throw harder."
Exactly.
The frustration wasn't solving the problem.
It had become part of the problem.
The next morning, I realized he was ready for one of the most important lessons I've ever learned.
The Two Circles That Changed My Thinking
If I'm honest, I wish someone had taught me this when I was 13.
When I look back at my twenties and even parts of my thirties, I spent an incredible amount of energy fighting reality.
I'd replay conversations.
I'd get angry when life felt unfair.
I'd worry about what other people did.
I'd waste emotional energy on situations I couldn't change.
Looking back, I think that was one of the biggest reasons I was genuinely unhappy.
Not because difficult things happened.
But because I kept trying to control things that were never mine to control in the first place.
Then, years ago, I came across an idea rooted in Stoic philosophy that completely changed the way I look at problems.
I grabbed a piece of notebook paper and drew two circles.
One was labeled Things That Matter.
The other was labeled Things I Can Control.
Where they overlapped, I shaded the middle.
"This," I told Gio, "is where your energy belongs."
It seems almost too simple.
But it's become the filter I use to make decisions, handle setbacks, and protect my peace of mind.
Putting Yesterday's Baseball Game Through the Filter
Then we walked back through yesterday's inning.
"Could you control whether the right fielder got a better jump on that bloop?"
"No."
"Could you control whether the shortstop charged that slow ground ball?"
"No."
"So why spend your emotional energy there?"
He nodded.
Then I asked another question.
"Does it really matter?"
He thought for a second.
"No."
"I love that you want to win," I told him. "Don't ever lose that. Competing matters. But yesterday's baseball game isn't going to define your life."
Then we looked at the other circle.
"What can you control?"
"My response."
Exactly.
That's the moment we're really trying to teach. The goal isn't to avoid mistakes or frustration. It's to respond well when they happen. I wrote previously about teaching kids to learn from mistakes, and this conversation felt like another chapter in that lesson.
His breathing.
His breathing.
His body language.
His attitude.
His next pitch.
Trusting his teammates.
Competing even when things weren't going his way.
Those things were inside the overlap.
Those things mattered.
Those things were worth his energy.
Why This Lesson Goes Far Beyond Baseball
The more I reflected on that conversation, the more I realized this isn't really about baseball.
It's about life.
This year has given me plenty of opportunities to practice the same lesson.
I couldn't control how long the county took to review our permits.
I couldn't control inspection delays.
I couldn't control our commercial refrigerator dying days before our health inspection.
Those things mattered.
But they weren't mine to control.
I had two choices.
I could spend my energy wishing reality were different.
Or I could spend my energy replacing the refrigerator, preparing for inspections, communicating with my team, and moving the project forward.
Only one of those responses improved my situation.
The overlap never changed.
Only my response did.
A Simple Framework for Making Better Decisions
Whenever life starts to feel overwhelming, I come back to two questions:
- Can I control it?
- Does it matter?
If the answer to either question is no, I try to let it go.
If the answer to both questions is yes, that's where I invest my time, attention, and energy.
It seems almost too simple.
But it's become the filter I use to make decisions, handle setbacks, and protect my peace of mind.
I wrote previously about protecting the flame that keeps us grounded through difficult seasons. This framework is one of the ways I protect that flame. When I keep my energy inside the overlap, I have more to give to my family, my work, and the people who depend on me.
Once you accept that much of life is outside your control, you stop wasting energy arguing with reality.
Instead, you start improving the small part that belongs to you.
The Real Reason I Love Coaching Youth Sports
One of the reasons I love coaching youth sports is that baseball constantly gives kids opportunities to practice accountability, leadership, and resilience. I've written before about how youth sports teach accountability, and yesterday reminded me that some of the biggest lessons happen after the final out.
Sports create small moments that prepare kids for much bigger ones later.
Sports create small moments that prepare kids for much bigger ones later.
A teammate misses a play.
An umpire misses a call.
A coach makes a decision you don't like.
Years later those same moments become a delayed permit.
A difficult coworker.
A layoff.
A customer who lets you down.
Life has a lot more bloop singles and missed ground balls than we wish it did.
We don't get to choose whether they happen.
We get to choose what we do next.
Looking back, I don't think what changed my life was discovering that the world isn't fair.
I already knew that.
What changed my life was realizing I didn't have to spend my energy fighting reality.
I just had to keep returning to those two circles.
If my son can learn that lesson at 13 instead of 48, yesterday's difficult inning may end up being one of the most valuable games he'll ever pitch.
“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”
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