Three Lessons from the Mound
Part Four — And a Different Jersey
A FOUR-PART SERIES · PART FOUR OF FOUR
We have walked the three domains — the declared self, the narrated self, the embodied self. Now, as promised, back to the diamond one last time. I told you I would not lose the story in the theology.
Three Lessons from the Mound
So let me bring us back to the diamond, and to the three lessons that were planted in me that week — lessons I did not fully understand until I became the father and the coach, the teacher and the mentor, that I was apparently destined to be.
Lesson One · Everyone needs a “One.”
My father was my ONE. Not because he was perfect. Not because he had a five-step pitching development program. But because he showed up. He put his old glove on his hand and stood across from his scared kid and said, “Let’s do this together.”
The research on mentorship is sobering. Study after study demonstrates that people who had at least one consistent, invested mentor figure — a parent, a coach, an aunt or uncle, a teacher, a pastor — demonstrate significantly better outcomes across nearly every measurable life domain: career stability, relationship quality, mental health, faith retention, community engagement. The “One” is not a luxury. It is a lifeline.
If you had a “One” in your life, pause right now and thank God for that person. Their investment is still bearing fruit in you — perhaps in ways you have not even recognized yet.
If you did not have a “One” — if you came up without that kind of presence — then you have been doing something quietly heroic just by still being here and still fighting. And it also means you know better than most what that absence costs. Which means you are uniquely qualified to be that presence for someone else.
Everyone reading this is either being shaped by a “One” or is being called to become one. Probably both.
Try this: Name your “One” — the person who showed up for you. Write them a note, make a call, or simply say a prayer of gratitude. Then ask yourself: who needs me to be their “One” right now?
Lesson Two · A good coach sees what you cannot yet see in yourself.
My Little League coach saw something in me that I was entirely convinced was not there. He called my name for the mound not to embarrass me, but because he had been watching me and believed I was ready for a stretch assignment — whether I felt ready or not.
The word “coach” comes from the Hungarian word kocsi, meaning a carriage — a vehicle that carries people from where they are to where they need to be. The best coaches in your life are not the ones who flatter you. They are the ones who assign you to the mound when you think you are only capable of third base.
Psychologist Lev Vygotsky called this the “zone of proximal development” — the space between what you can do independently and what you can do with the right support and challenge. The best coaches in every domain — parenting, leadership, discipleship, athletics — operate in that zone. They do not park you where you are comfortable. They position you for growth.
The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is safe.
— Proverbs 29:25
Who is that person in your life right now? Who is the one looking at you and saying, in effect, “I see more in you than you see in yourself”? And are you willing to trust them enough to take the mound?
Try this: Identify one person in your life who has been calling you toward a stretch assignment you have been avoiding. Have an honest conversation with them about what is holding you back.
Lesson Three · Fear is a liar, but it is a very convincing one.
Fear told me I would fail on that mound. Fear told me my love for the game would be destroyed. Fear had a whole catastrophic Saturday mapped out before we ever got there. And fear was wrong about almost all of it.
This is not to say that fear is useless. Physiologically, fear is a signal — it alerts the nervous system to perceived threat and prepares the body to respond. But in the domain of identity, fear almost always overestimates the threat and underestimates the person.
The fear of inadequacy, the fear of failure, the fear of exposure — these are the snares that keep us stuck at third base when we were built for the mound. The antidote to fear is not bravado. It is not pretending the stakes are not real. The antidote to fear — as that week of schoolyard pitching practice taught me — is preparation, presence, and a decision to act in spite of how you feel.
That first strike is what breaks the fear. Not the idea of the strike. The actual, physical, real-world experience of stepping in and discovering that you are more than fear said you were.
Try this: Name the mound you have been avoiding. Write it down. Then write one preparation step you can take before the end of the week — not to eliminate the fear, but to shrink it.
A Different Field, a Different Jersey
I never wore a Major League jersey. The dream I carried as an eight-year-old did not come to pass in the way I imagined it would. But somewhere along the way, I discovered something better — a different field, a different game, and a different kind of jersey.
The spouse. The parent. The coach. The teacher. The encourager. The one who shows up for others the way my father showed up for me on a backyard mound, decades ago, with an old leather glove and everything that mattered.
I believe every one of us was put on this earth with a purpose that transcends our performance and outlasts our fear. I believe that a life lived at its highest expression is not about dominance or detachment or stoic silence. It is about a person who knows who they are — spiritually declared, mentally renewed, physically present — and who uses that identity in service of others.
The world does not need more people who are impressive. It needs more people who are integrated. People who know the difference between third base and the mound — and who have the courage to make the long run when the coach calls their name.
We could talk for hours about every stage of life — from the early-years version of you still figuring out your footing, to the legacy-years version thinking carefully about what you leave behind. About relationships and purpose, mental health and spiritual formation, leadership and service. We can hold both the biblical text and the findings of psychology in honest tension, because truth does not need to be afraid of itself.
But it always comes back to this: identity first. Everything flows from knowing who you are.
“You were made for the mound. It’s time to take the ball.”
NEXT TIME · A NEW STORY
We began at the heart of the map — the Inner Three. Next we move outward, to where identity is exchanged. The next story takes us to a boy’s workbench and a plastic helicopter that became the spine of an adult life. I hope you’ll bring your coffee and join me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Life, Leadership, Legacy & Marriage Coach · 30+ Years of Leadership Experience
Nate Parsons is a life, leadership, legacy, and marriage coach and mentor with over 30 years of leadership experience spanning military, ministry, business, and personal development. He and his wife Noemi are the founders of S3 Leadership Solutions and On-Fire Marriage, dedicated to helping people across every life stage discover and fulfill their God-given purpose.
