Does Your Child Suffer from Affluenza: Coaching, Mentorship & Leadership

Mighty Oak Athletic Podcast S2:E60 - Does Your Child Suffer from Affluenza: Coaching, Mentorship & Leadership

There’s a saying that’s always stuck with me:

the thief knows to look behind the door because he’s hidden there once before.

It means the person who’s been there before recognizes the signs.

They see what others might miss because they’ve lived it.

That’s how I feel when I meet a certain kind of kid at Mighty Oak Athletic.

They remind me of me.

The ones who come in quiet, uncomfortable in their own skin.

The ones who shuffle through the warm-up like they’d rather be anywhere else.

The ones who’ve already started to lose confidence before they’ve even had a chance to find it.

When I see them, I see the 12-year-old version of myself.

I grew up in a loving, supportive, upper-middle-class home — parents who gave me everything I needed and, honestly, most of what I wanted.

They meant well, and I’m grateful for it, but that comfort came with side effects.

Call it affluenza.

I didn’t have to ride my bike anywhere because rides were always available.

I didn’t have to think about food because it was always there.

Free time meant Mario Kart, not movement.

Somewhere between all the convenience and comfort, I got soft — literally and figuratively.

Marshall Field’s called it “husky.”

By the time I hit middle school, my confidence had disappeared right along with my athleticism.

Sports stopped being fun because I stopped feeling capable.

Then, my freshman year at Fenwick, I wandered into the weight room.

That’s where I met Ray.

He didn’t say much at first — just handed me a bar, showed me how to grip it, and told me to breathe.

He had that quiet presence great coaches have.

You could feel that he knew.

He’d been there before.

Ray wasn’t loud, but he was steady.

He showed up.

He led by example.

Marcus Samuelsson once said,

“You can only inspire when you work hard yourself. You can’t fake that.”

That was Ray.

He never had to convince anyone he cared — we saw it in how he worked, how he paid attention, how he expected the same effort from us that he gave himself.

Those lessons stuck with me long after the soreness faded.

And now, as a coach, I try to do the same for the kids who remind me of who I used to be.

When the already-focused, already-driven athletes walk in, I love training them.

But the truth is, a monkey could coach the kids who already want it.

The ones who don’t — the ones who need a spark — that’s where the magic happens.

Those are the athletes I lean into hardest.

Because I know what it’s like to be them.

I know how it feels to doubt yourself and to believe, even for a second, that maybe you’re just not an athlete.

I also know how quickly that can change once they feel the bar move for the first time — once they realize they did it.

That’s agency.

That’s confidence being born in real time.

When I’m coaching those kids, I think of Larry King’s line:

“I never learned anything while I was talking.”

That’s the heart of good coaching — knowing when to step back and listen.

To see what they need instead of just telling them what to do.

Sometimes the best thing a coach can do is create the space for an athlete to figure it out on their own.

That’s when mentorship happens.

It’s not about commanding.

It’s about connecting.

At Mighty Oak, we build that kind of environment — disciplined, structured, focused, but full of heart.

We challenge athletes, but we listen.

We teach them to trust themselves and each other.

Because leadership isn’t about being in front — it’s about bringing others along.

When I meet a kid who reminds me of that 12-year-old version of me, I know what’s possible for them.

The thief knows to look behind the door because he’s hidden there once before.

I know what’s waiting on the other side of the barbell — confidence, purpose, joy.

The iron changed me, and I’ve seen it change them too.

So to borrow a line from the Statue of Liberty:

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

At Mighty Oak Athletic, that’s exactly who we want — the kids who need belief the most.

Because when they find it, they don’t just build muscle.

They build character.

They build courage.

We Build Better Athletes — and better humans.