When people hear my younger son attended three different schools in high school, most assume something went wrong — that he couldn’t handle adversity or was always chasing an easier path. But sometimes, what looks like instability is really growth in disguise — the process of finding the right environment, the right leadership, and the right belief.
His journey wasn’t a straight line. But it’s the one that built him into the player and the person he is today..
Freshman year started with flashes of promise. He played JV, showed potential, and had moments that made people take notice. But the coaching wasn’t great, and even though the top JV players usually got called up to varsity at the end of the season, he didn’t. I told myself his time would come, but I could tell something was off. There wasn’t much communication or belief. And when belief is missing, development slows down.
Sophomore year brought a new staff, but the same story. He got stronger, smarter, and more confident, but even though he was still on JV, the varsity coach often worked with their team. There were constant stories of him and the varsity coach clashing. The coach was young in his early 20s, first head job and looking back, I think it was just immaturity on both sides. He played well that season but still wasn’t called up to varsity. It wasn’t about talent it was about fit.
Off the court, things started to feel even more concerning. Some of his close friends the same boys he’d grown up with began drifting into trouble. They were good kids, just making bad choices, and that hit harder than anything basketball-related. As parents, we could see the environment shifting, and not in a way that would help him grow.
By the end of that year, it was clear he needed a change. Not just a new team, but a new environment one that matched the kind of player and person he was becoming.
We transferred him to a nearby school that wasn’t known for basketball but had strong academics and a coach I trusted. The team had struggled for years, but that season, things changed. My son broke out. He became the leader, the guy. That team went on to win more games than any group in school history. When they faced his old school, he lit them up. It wasn’t about revenge anymore; it was proof of what belief and the right coaching can unlock. That year built his confidence. He learned what it meant to lead, to carry a team, and to change a culture.
Heading into senior year, another coach I knew, a guy I respected, had just taken over a new program and recruited my son to play for him. The main reason we made that move was exposure. He promised to build a schedule filled with showcase tournaments and top-level competition opportunities the previous school simply couldn’t provide. It felt like the next step, the right soil for what we were trying to grow.
He talked a great game, pushed the boys hard, and made them believe they were building something special. But a month into the season, he was suddenly fired. Just like that. The math teacher took over as head coach. One of the best players transferred, and the fired coach tried convincing others to leave too. I spent days calling parents, explaining that my son was staying, he was going to finish what he started. He had learned how to stand tall in chaos, and this was the test.
With only seven players left, they could’ve folded. Instead, they found a rhythm and started to win. That run carried them into the playoffs. They won their first playoff game easily, setting up a matchup against a powerhouse, one of the two favorites predicted to go to states.
That night turned into a magical moment I’ll never forget. In a packed gym, with the game on the line, my son hit the game winner right in front of me. I’ve watched him make a lot of shots, but that one meant more. It wasn’t just a basket; it was everything we’d been through every transfer, every setback, every tough decision coming full circle.
Then came the next round against the other top team predicted to reach the state tournament. This time, the defense loaded up on my son, doubling him on the final possession. Instead of forcing a shot, he kicked it to his teammate for a corner three – swish. Another game-winner. Different hero, same result and that moment said just as much about his growth as the first. He’d gone from being the one taking the shot to being the one trusting others to hit it.
That win sent them to the regional championship before they eventually fell short. He earned First Team All-County that year, but what mattered most was how he grew: into a leader, a believer, and a young man who finished what he started.
Looking back, every stop taught something different. The first built patience. The second built belief. And that senior year? That built leadership. It’s easy to think success comes from staying in one place, but sometimes, growth means moving until you find the right soil.
If you’re a parent or athlete walking a similar path, don’t judge the journey by how many stops it takes. Judge it by who your athlete becomes along the way. Because sometimes, the long, winding road is exactly the one that builds the strongest foundation.