25 Jul From Soccer Cleats to Tennis Sneaks
Reinvention Doesn’t Have an Age Limit
Published August 2026 • 6 minute read

@call_me_bbk
“One of the hardest things to do isn’t learning something new. It’s letting go of something that defined you.”
For most of my life, if you asked me what I enjoyed doing outside of work, the answer was simple: soccer.
I played for years. Built friendships on the field. Competed. Won. Lost. Celebrated. It wasn’t just exercise—it was part of my identity.
Along the way, the game took a toll: six knee surgeries, including four ACL repairs. Each time, I did the work, completed the rehab, and fought my way back onto the field. For years, my determination to keep playing was stronger than what my body was trying to tell me.
Then my body had a conversation my mind wasn’t ready to hear.
Recovery took longer. Nagging injuries kept popping up. The next game required more preparation—and more recovery—than the last one. Eventually, I realized I wasn’t enjoying the game the way I once had.
Walking away was one of the hardest things I’ve done.
When you’ve defined yourself around something for decades, letting it go feels like losing part of who you are.
But that’s exactly when something interesting happens. Space opens up. I picked up a tennis racquet. And suddenly, nothing felt natural. My timing was off. My footwork was awkward. My serve was awful. It was frustrating. It was humbling. And it was exactly what I needed.
Most successful people hate being beginners. We’re used to competence. We like knowing the answers. We enjoy being the person who can help everyone else. Then I stepped on a tennis court.
What surprised me wasn’t how difficult it was. It was how familiar the feeling became. I’ve experienced this before. When we built Careflow. When Magnus was acquired. When I joined SchoolSims. Every meaningful chapter of my career started with uncertainty. With not knowing. With asking for help. That’s when I realized something that changed how I think about growth.
“Confidence isn’t built by already knowing what you’re doing. It’s built by continuing anyway.”
The best leaders I’ve worked with share something unusual: they’re not afraid to admit what they don’t know.
They ask questions. They listen. They stay curious.
The moment someone stops being a beginner—the moment they think they’ve figured everything out—that’s usually when they stop growing. I see this in every mentee I work with. The students who ask the best questions aren’t the ones with all the answers. They’re the ones willing to be vulnerable enough to learn.
Tennis taught me that the same principle that makes great leaders also makes good athletes: staying humble enough to improve.