You Don’t Know What You Don’t Know
Why I Started Specialist Consultation
I have already spoke with several families here locally.
I can still see that parking lot in Texas.
Three hundred kids. Bags slung over shoulders. Parents trying to look calm. Directors and staff moving fast. Whistles blowing. Energy buzzing.
And I remember thinking …
We are behind.
When Trace first said he wanted to start doing showcases, I didn’t hesitate.
“Alright. Let’s give this a shot.”
That was it. No master plan. No recruiting blueprint. No five-year roadmap.
Just a dad trying to support his son.
So I started looking for information.
And quickly realized there wasn’t much that made sense.
What’s a training camp?
What’s a showcase?
Who runs the best ones?
Which ones matter?
Which ones are development?
Which ones gets a Star?
Which ones are cheaper cost?
It felt like stepping into a world with its own language and I didn’t speak it.
The First Go…
We started local. A training session.
Nothing huge.
But Trace was kicking with seniors and college guys — and he stood out. Not just surviving. Competing.
Afterward, a coach asked me,
“Are you headed to the Texas showcase in a few weeks?”
We weren’t.
Because honestly… we didn’t even know what it was.
He explained the difference between a training environment and a showcase environment. Evaluation. Ranking (Stars). Exposure. Pressure. Different animal entirely.
So, I signed up.
Texas.
The Setup for Failure
The moment we arrived; I felt it in my gut.
This was bigger than I understood.
Travel? Poorly planned.
Hotel? Not ideal location.
Schedule? Confusing.
Number of players? Easily 300.
And then the moment I’ll never forget —
We didn’t have a leather football.
We had been training with synthetic balls. Those weren’t allowed.
I drove quickly to Dick’s Sporting Goods, grabbed two brand new leather balls, paid, flew back, slapped Trace’s name on them, and handed him a ball that had just come out of the box.
Unbroken in. Barely pumped.
And he was in his first kickoff group.
That’s not dramatic storytelling.
That’s exactly how it happened.
If you ever want to talk about being unprepared, that was it.
An absolute setup for failure.
But here’s the thing.
You don’t know what you don’t know.
And he went out there anyway.
Smiling.
Competing.
Talking with other players.
Holding his own.
That day wasn’t about perfect kicks.
It was about exposure to reality.
The Shift
Standing there watching, I had a choice.
Feel overwhelmed because I’ve failed.
Or get to work.
So, I got to work and I started talking.
“Hey, what year is your son?”
“What other camps are there? What camps have you liked?”
“Which ones would you skip?”
“What’s the worst thing to do?”
“What was the best thing to do?”
I probably talked to 10–15 different families that weekend. I wasn’t looking for definitive answers. I was looking for experience from parents with older athletes who had already walked through the fire.
And here’s something beautiful about the specialist world:
If you ask honestly, people will help you.
I took notes. Names. Camps. Directors. Philosophies. Exposure versus development. Money grabs versus meaningful evaluation.
I started to hear patterns.
But even then, I still didn’t fully understand the “why.”
We were told to avoid certain camps.
We went anyway.
I was thinking exposure equals opportunity.
And maybe I could’ve saved a thousand dollars here or there if I had understood the strategy instead of just chasing the stage.
That’s the difference.
Information is helpful.
Understanding is powerful.
The Real Investment
Here’s what nobody tells you at the beginning.
This isn’t just about showing up and kicking or snapping perfect.
It’s travel.
It’s time.
It’s organizing.
It’s networking.
It’s evaluation pressure.
It’s missed weekends.
It’s real money.
It’s sacrifice — from the athlete and from the family.
And depending on the level you want to reach?
It multiplies.
The specialist path is incredible. But it is not casual.
It is intentional.
And when you step into it blind, it’s expensive. Financially and Emotionally.
Why I’m Offering Specialist Consultation
If I could go back to our second event — not even the first year — just the second event… and sit down with someone who had already done it and really pick their brain.
I would’ve.
Not to skip the grind.
But to remove the unnecessary confusion.
I will not tell you:
“Go here.”
“Don’t go there.”
“Do this and you’ll get a scholarship.”
That’s not real.
What I want to do is sit down with you and help you understand what’s out there.
What camps are designed for.
What exposure really means.
What development should look like.
What level fits your athlete.
What timeline makes sense.
What questions you should be asking before you ever book a flight.
This isn’t about selling you a path.
It’s about helping you see clearly before you step onto it.
Final Word
That first showcase in Texas could have shaken us.
Instead, it woke us up.
I’ll never forget standing there, watching my son walk onto a field with a brand-new, barely pumped football. Knowing I had missed things and I didn’t even know to look for.
That gutted feeling.
That’s the one I want to save you from.
Not the nerves.
Not the pressure.
Not the work.
Those are part of it.
I’m talking about the avoidable confusion.
The unnecessary expense.
The quiet drive back to the hotel wondering, “Did I miss something?”
You and your athlete are already going to sacrifice.
Time. Money. Energy. and Emotional Comfort.
Make sure you’re sacrificing for the right reasons.
You don’t need someone to promise you a scholarship.
You need someone who’s been in the parking lots.
Who’s bought the football.
Who’s asked the awkward questions.
Who’s made the mistakes.
And kept going anyway.
If I can help you walk into this world with clarity instead of guesswork, that’s worth the conversation.
Schedule the time.
Let’s make sure when your athlete steps onto that field for the first time or next time…
You’re not hoping you did enough.
You know you did.
If You Want to sit down and chat: Sign Up

