A mom walked into the center one evening, daughter in tow, both still in school clothes. “Hi, we want to sign her up for the basketball league,” she said. Her daughter stood half‑behind her, clutching a water bottle, eyes wide at the courts. Ten years ago, I would’ve gone straight to: “Great, here’s the form. We ll add her to a team?” This time, I slowed down. I remembered how this usually goes when I just say yes: - Kid’s never played before. - First game is chaos. - They feel lost. - Parent gets frustrated. - Child becomes intimated and no longer wants to play the sport. So instead, I ran the Right-Fit Pathway Framework I smiled at the daughter first. “Awesome. I’m glad you’re here.” Then I turned to mom. “Before we put her anywhere,” I said, “can I ask three quick questions so we can make sure she’s in the right spot, not just any spot?” She nodded. Dream Check: “What are you hoping she gets out of this season?” Mom didn’t even hesitate. “I want her to learn the basics, build some confidence, and just be around other kids. She’s never really done organized sports before.” That’s not “win the championship.” That’s “please don’t crush her.” Skills Check: “Has she played basketball before? On a team, in a clinic, or just for fun?” “No,” she said. “She shoots around at the park sometimes, but she’s never been on a team.” Brand new. Straight to league would be a baptism by fire. Life Check: “How does your schedule look for practices and games right now? How many days a week can you realistically get her here?” She thought for a second. “We can do 2-3 practices and one game a week. Anything more gets tough with work and homework.” Now I had the picture: - Dream: confidence + basics + friends - Skill: true beginner - Life: 3 days a week available So I said: “Here’s what I recommend. We’ll absolutely get her into the league so she gets that real game experience. But to make sure she doesn’t feel lost, I also want to put her in our Fundamental Basketball 101 class.

Stop Just Signing People Up. Start Putting Them On The Right Path. Most headaches in recreation start at -registration. A parent says, “We want to join the basketball league.” You’re busy. You say, “Great, let’s get her in.” Three weeks later: - The kid is overwhelmed. - The parent is frustrated. - You’re stuck explaining why “this isn’t what we expected.” The problem wasn’t the league. The problem was You didn’t build a Right-Fit Pathway. In Momentum, we use the Right-Fit Pathway Framework any time someone wants to join a program: 1. Dream Check – “What are you hoping for?” - “What are you hoping your child gets out of this season?” 2. Skill Check – “Where are they starting from?” - “Have they played before? On a team, clinic, or just for fun?” 3. Life Check – “What can you actually commit to?” - “How many days a week can you realistically get here for practices and games?” Then you recommend the "path", not just the program. Example: Parent: “She wants to play in the basketball league to learn organized sports.” You run Dream / Skill / Life Check and realize: - First-time player - Wants confidence and basics - Can commit to practice + game So you say: “The best path is Fundamental Basketball 101 + the league. The class gives her skills in a smaller setting; the league lets her use them in real games. That’s how we build confidence instead of frustration.” She came in asking for a league. She leaves with a Right-Fit Pathway. Your move for today Next time a parent asks about a program, don’t jump straight to signup. Use this script: “Before I place you, can I ask three quick questions to maximize her opportunities?” Then do: Dream Check → Skill Check → Life Check. Write those three questions on a sticky note at your desk. Use them once this week. Let’s keep the momentum rolling.

Leaders don’t lose control when things get loud. They listen longer so they can lead better. On Monday, you got the rule: Ask more before you answer. Slow down your mouth, speed up your brain. On Wednesday, you saw the cost of skipping it: One coordinator’s fast decision at a toy giveaway took a good plan and turned it into chaos and injuries. The difference wasn’t caring more. The difference was listening first instead of exploding. Today is where you find out if this stayed a “nice concept”… or actually changed how you lead under pressure. 1. Reflect: Where Did You Prove It? Answer these in the comments or your notebook: 1. Where did you actually lead with listening? Describe one moment this week where you paused and listened before reacting. - What was happening? - What did you ask? - How did the other person respond? 2. What changed because you didn’t react? Compared to your old pattern, what was different? - Less conflict? - Clearer information? - Better decision? - Staff or parents felt more respected? 3. Where did you still react first? Name one time you snapped, defended, or took over. If you could replay it using “lead with listening,” what would you do or say differently? If you can’t name a moment, that’s feedback too: the habit isn’t built yet. 2. Call Out a Win Drop a shout-out: Who on your team modeled real listening under pressure this week? What exactly did they do that showed they listened first and reacted second? Name them and describe the moment. You’re teaching your team what “good leadership” looks like by pointing at real behavior, not posters on the wall. When you listen: People feel safe --> they tell the truth. Truth removes fluff Clear. Direct. Without dancing around it. Lock in that momentum.

The Toy Giveaway That Exploded… and What Saved It This rec center wasn’t known for big special events. No huge festivals. No massive giveaways. Just normal programming. Then we decided to run a Christmas Toy Giveaway. And not just repeat last year. Level it up. We secured 50% more toys than the previous year. We added more activities to actually engage the community, not just stand in line. We redesigned the whole setup. Our old system was built for 150 kids. Now we had 300. On the whiteboard, it looked tight. In real life, it started falling apart at the exact moment it mattered most. When it was time to pass out toys, we had: All toys staged inside the building A line outside Kids walking up to the door to get a toy Then the human element kicked in: Parents started pushing. People complained about the toys they were getting. Tension went up. Patience went down. And all that pressure funneled onto one person: my coordinator. He’s hearing complaints. He’s watching what feels like a slow line. He’s overwhelmed, and instead of slowing down, he speeds up. Without telling anyone, he decides, “I’ll fix it.” He opens a second section and starts handing out toys from there. Predictably, once people see this: They run toward the new section. Pushing. Shoving. Multiple participants get knocked around and injured. We lose track of who has gotten toys. We run out for certain age groups. This is the nightmare scenario: We tried to do more good… and we accidentally created more chaos. And I was pissed. Like, genuinely heated. His one quick, solo decision just nuked the system we built to keep people safe. In that moment, I had two options: Blow up on him and prove I’m the boss. Lead with listening and actually fix the problem. I took a breath. Pulled him aside. No audience. “Hey, you look frustrated. It looks like you decided to take matters into your own hands. Walk me through your reasoning.” He tells me: “The line wasn’t moving.” “Parents were coming at me.”

Most recreation leaders aren’t failing because they don’t care. They’re failing because they’re too fast. Something goes wrong and we jump: ⚫️A parent complains and we start defending the program before we even understand what happened. ⚫️A staff messes up and we correct them in front of everyone just to “send a message.” ⚫️A situation gets messy and we take over, doing it ourselves instead of slowing down long enough to coach. It feels like leadership in the moment. It feels like “getting things done.” But here’s what reactive leadership actually does over time: ⚫️Staff stop telling you the full story, because they expect a reaction, not understanding. ⚫️Parents stop trusting you, because your answers feel rushed and inconsistent. ⚫️You burn out, because every problem still has to run through you. The fix is not more passion. It’s more pause. This week’s rule: Pause, then probe. Listen long enough to see the real problem before you touch it. Your one move for this week Today, pick one situation that normally triggers you: ⚫️A parent complaint ⚫️A staff mistake ⚫️A scheduling or space conflict When it happens, do this instead of reacting: 1. Take a silent 3-second pause. 2. Ask: “Can you walk me through what happened from your point of view?” 3. Ask: “What have you already tried or thought about?” Then decide. Run that play once today. Notice how the conversation changes when you lead with listening instead of speed. Drop in the poll, then comment: “What’s one situation this week where I will practice pausing before reacting?” Let’s keep the momentum rolling.