This player flew in from Alabama this weekend. Something interesting happened. Every time he made a bad swing... he had something to say. Every time he missed a ball... he had an explanation. Every time something went wrong... he gave it attention. But every time he smoked a line drive... nothing. No reaction. No acknowledgment. No credit. After our session, we went to grab lunch. And while we were talking, I asked him: "Do you feel confident?" He said: "I don't know. I haven't played a game yet." That answer stopped me. Because he was waiting for a game to tell him how to feel about himself. The truth is: He wasn't his biggest fan. He was his biggest critic. And my coach at UCLA used to say: "You cannot outperform your self-image." If you spend all your time talking about what's wrong... don't be surprised when you stop seeing what's right. So I gave him one assignment: The next time you do something well... say it. Out loud. -Good swing. -Good take. -Good adjustment. -Good barrel. Most athletes are comfortable criticizing themselves. Very few are comfortable encouraging themselves. Try this tonight. Every time you catch yourself saying something negative... find one thing you did well and say it out loud. You might discover the conversation holding you back isn't coming from a coach, a parent, or an opponent. It's coming from you. Thank you for reading, Jermaine Curtis P.S. - if you enjoyed this, share it. This tells me you want more content like this.

I signed to UCLA my junior year of high school and was told I was going to start Day 1. Opening Day at UCLA? I was sitting the bench. 😭 I had 2 choices: 1. Complain, pout, and blame the coaches OR 2. Find the holes on the team and become valuable. So for 3 weeks, I sat the bench. I showed up early. Stayed late. Cheered for my teammates. Dragged the field every 3rd inning. Meanwhile, I studied the team. The middle infielders were doing well. Third base wasn’t. So I told the coaches: “I can play third.” Then I noticed something else: Offensively, we were either hitting home runs or getting out. I saw the gap. If I could become a tough out, get on base, and bring energy to the team… I could create value. Then we played Miami. The starting third baseman was hitting .115. They gave me a shot. I went 2 for 3 with a walk. Played solid defense. Brought energy. I never sat the bench again. Eventually, I became team captain… and we were ranked #1 in the country. One thing baseball taught me: Opportunities don’t always go to the most talented player. Sometimes they go to the player who becomes the most valuable.

Excited to attend the military appreciation bowl in Dallas,TX this weekend. @JeffHecklinski thank you for the invite, and I look forward to working with you and the coaches there. @GenoaSports @GenoaCometsFB @GenoaBasketball

The Parent Poison… Most parents want the best for their kids. But sometimes, without realizing it, they slowly poison the very team their child is part of. It rarely starts with something dramatic. It starts small. A comment in the car ride home. “Why didn’t the coach play you more?” A comparison. “You’re better than that kid.” A quiet complaint at the dinner table. “That coach doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Kids hear everything. And when they hear it, something changes. Doubt creeps in. Blame grows. Trust fades. The mindset shifts from team first to me first. What begins in the living room eventually shows up in the locker room. You see it in body language. You hear it in conversations. You feel it in the culture. Instead of unity, there are whispers. Instead of accountability, there are excuses. Instead of growth, there is resentment. Great teams cannot survive that environment. Because the best teams are built on three things: Trust. Sacrifice. Shared purpose. When players start believing the problem is everyone else, those things disappear. Parents play a powerful role in a team’s culture whether they realize it or not. The healthiest teams have parents who: Support the program. Encourage resilience. Teach their kids to handle adversity. They remind their children: Work harder. Be a great teammate. Control what you can control. They don’t feed excuses. They build character. And here’s the truth most people miss: A parent’s influence extends far beyond their own child. It affects the locker room. It affects the culture. It affects the entire team. Great teams require unity, not whispers of criticism. So the challenge for parents is simple. Be the adult in the room. Guard your words. Model respect. Support the team. Because what starts at home always finds its way onto the court, the field, or the locker room. And the best parents don’t poison the culture. They protect it.

It’s out there now. Zach Werenski’s Olympic Gold Medal on display in the concourse at @nationwidearena #CBJ

@CoachBrianMetz @JSandwisch13 @GenoaCometsFB @GenoaSports @GenoaBasketball @CharlotteFTBL