One of the greatest sports moments of my life happened in a sport I never coached or played. Yet it probably taught me more about myself, and about the psychology of athletes, than any other lesson in my career.

We were enjoying a family day out (a rare thing for a high school athletic director) at one of those go-kart and sports amusement parks. My two sons were around 13 and 15. We slammed karts into each other and the tire barriers (”Rubbin’s racin’, Cole!”), shot baskets on those thieving, non-regulation rims, climbed rope obstacles, and ate horrible food at even less savory prices. We loved every minute of it.

As we walked past the batting cages, my boys began to talk about how well they could each hit (ignoring the fact that neither had ever swung a bat in their lives). Talk turned to challenge; pride turned to motivation. I swiped my credit card in the machine to get a $5 bucket of 10 yellow softballs to drop into the mechanical pitcher and see which one could back up his bravado. Both boys were very athletic. Each arrived at success differently, however.

My oldest watched a couple of yellow streaks blow past him, insulted and embarrassed. Surely this machine was like the basketball rims, some kind of trick or cheat. He began to swing aggressively as his younger brother started teasing him. Then he began to swing angrily. A fun day started to go south. My oldest is very good at things. Actually, everything. He’s just a perfectionist who usually works at something until he is proficient, and only then is he comfortable performing in front of others.

His younger brother is quite different. He has no issue failing miserably in front of others. In fact, it might fuel him. He strolled into the netting cocky and still talking. He swung and missed a few times, but it didn’t bother him. He laughed more and swung away as fast as his mouth was moving. Finally, he made contact and sent one back into the metal and netting. He felt like he had just won the World Series. And he made sure his brother knew it.

The next 20 minutes were spent trying to gather the family back together to have a fun day. It was no small feat. That stupid park with the stupid food and the stupid moms hanging upside down on the ropes, and the stupid, cheating games, and stupid brothers, and…

SuperDad to the rescue! I began to explain to my boys that there are things in life we are not going to be good at. Some things we have to admit we can’t do. Some things we need to practice before we preach. I implored my oldest to understand that failing should not embarrass us. It should challenge us and motivate us to learn and get better. But it certainly does not DEFINE us, nor should it change how we act or treat people. I tried to get the younger one to understand that boasting and gloating do not win supporters. Sometimes in life you have to step into difficult situations and fight, fight, fight until you find success. A positive attitude will win out in the end. It was a great speech.

Then I did what every dad in America would do. I said, “Watch this.” I told my boys that their dad, who never played baseball in his life, was going to step into the MLB batting cage and demonstrate a great attitude and resiliency to show them how life works.

I swiped my card for $5 and watched 10 streaking white vapors blow past me. “See how I am not letting it affect me? I will focus and begin to find success! That’s what winners do!” My boys forgot their differences and united in heckling me. Even my wife and young daughter joined in. I swiped that card again. Ten more Rawlings remained in pristine condition after being sent my way. “Sometimes you have to get angry and focused to be good, boys. Righteous anger is okay. I’m just not focused.” I was growing furious. I was shouting those family-friendly words that replace curse words but don’t have the same impact or effect. Card swipe! $5 more. My family was growing disinterested. My wife was growing economically concerned. It sounded like jets were shooting across the sky. It was just baseballs flying past me. Another angry $5 swipe. My family was now trying to act like they didn’t know me.

Right before security and our Visa company had to be called, I caught a tiny piece of a ball. I was probably still swinging at the previous pitch, but I hit it! Sort of. I hit it with the bat about six inches from my hands, sending the ball grounding foul, the bat catapulting end over end into the netting, and my hands vibrating in pain. It hurt so bad! But it felt SO GOOD! “See, boys?! You have to keep fighting in life and not let failure beat you.” I want to believe they heard me over their laughter. That foul ball cost me nearly a tank of gas, but I want to think it was worth it.

Their dad had just proved that sports psychology is a billion-dollar business for a reason, and that not being able to afford dinner that night was a small price for a valuable lesson about facing challenges.

The truth I took away is that we all will face difficulty and challenge. Some of us need to get focused and intense. Some of us need to relax. Some need reassurance and positive support. Every athlete is different in what they need to find success, but our job as coaches is the same: help each of them find it.

The key for all of them is never giving up. That is the only real failure. A fighter keeps fighting. Keep throwing punches until the bell. Never quit. Step into that batter’s box and keep swinging with all you have until you start hitting it out of the park. (Just leave your credit card at home.)