Curveballs, Courage, and a Backyard Lesson

It was just a regular Sunday afternoon. Backyard. Glove in hand. My daughter and I were out throwing the ball, getting in a few reps before her high school softball tryouts the next day. The kind of moment I always treasure.

She was doing great. Focused. Fluid. But I could feel something under the surface.

Then she looked at me and said, "I don't know why I'm so nervous."

The Words We All Need to Hear Sometimes

I knew that feeling all too well. The nerves. The pressure. The voice in your head reminding you that you're about to be judged.

So, I shared what I’ve come to believe over the years:

"Nerves mean you care. That this matters to you. But they also come from that place of being evaluated. And no matter what happens tomorrow, your work speaks for itself. Be proud of what you’ve put in. A decision—positive or negative—doesn’t change your goal. It just shapes the journey."

She nodded. Quietly sitting with it.

But I could see she was still struggling with the words I had just shared.

Funny thing was—I was sitting with something myself. Something I hadn’t yet shared with anyone.

The Talk That Wont Happen

Many of you know I was selected to speak at TEDxSouthCongress. It was a moment I was incredibly proud of. I poured myself into it—writing, refining, rehearsing. I shared the announcement, as I was asked to do. So many of you rallied behind me. Some even planned to fly to Austin.

What no one knew up to this moment was that, just a couple of weeks prior, I received a tough call.

Due to oversubscription and miscommunication, I was informed I was no longer on the main speaker list. I was being moved to a backup slot.

No stage. No red dot. No moment to share my “idea worth spreading”.

It was a gut punch.

I hadn’t told anyone. Not yet. I was still processing it myself. It wasn’t just the loss of the opportunity. It was the feeling of having to walk back something I had been proud to share.

But there I was, telling my daughter.

A Response I’ll Never Forget

Before I could get to my own punchline—the lesson I was about to offer—she stopped me.

"Wow," she said. "That… Is Their HUGE loss! …NEXT!"

Just like that.

I laughed. And I felt this quiet exhale in my chest.

Because she got it.

A disappointment, yes!

A setback, yes!

But the goal doesn’t change.

And she helped me more than she realized.

First, it felt good just to say it out loud. To not carry it alone. But more importantly, in that very moment, it crystalized something for us Both.

You don’t stop because something didn’t go your way. You don’t shrink just because the world doesn’t hand you a stage or a spot on the team. You keep showing up. You keep saying the thing that matters. And if the mic isn’t handed to you, you find another way to speak.

That night, the lesson went both ways. I was trying to help her prepare for a moment where she might be judged. She ended up helping me navigate one I had just gone through.

Leadership in the Backyard

It once again, underscored for me that leadership—real leadership—isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about showing up, sharing the truth, and being willing to walk through the tough stuff out loud.

Whether you're standing on a red dot or in your backyard under a porch light, the message still matters.

The moment still matters.

And maybe the people who need to hear it most are closer than we think.

The Talk Will Still Happen

So no, I won't be speaking at TEDxSouthCongress. Not this time. But the talk I wrote? The message I believe in? It’s still coming. The journey just shifted. And maybe, in some ways, it got better.

To those of you who supported me, thank you. That belief means more than you know.

And to my daughter—thank you for being my mirror that night.

Sometimes the best lessons aren’t the ones we give. They’re the ones we receive.

Oh—and by the way? She made the team. (Uh…the chills!)

Here’s to curveballs, courage, and showing up anyway.

With Absolute Sincerity,

Ed Clementi, Founder & CEO of Inspired Fire, LLC

Make an Impact.  Feel an Impact.