Almost Too Close

The most impactful leaders, teachers, coaches, and presenters I know and respect spend a ton of time focusing on connection. They study their audiences, try to get a grasp of their language, and do their best to understand and respect their culture. In other words, they do everything they can to get closer to the people they serve. 

But sometimes, you can get to a place where you’re... Almost Too Close. 

I recently arrived at that place when I had the honor of sharing the Game On Nation message with Team Israel as they prepared for the World Baseball Classic. It was an extraordinary opportunity, and it was deeply personal and meaningful to me. 

I was brought up Jewish and I also had a profound love for baseball. You could say that as a kid, those were my two religions, though not necessarily in that order! 

When I was preparing for my Bar Mitzvah at Temple Beth Ami in West Covina, California, I’d bring my glove, cleats, and baseball hat to Hebrew School. The moment class ended, one of my parents would meet me out in from of the Temple and drive me straight to Little League practice. My weekdays during that time consisted of bouncing between studying with Cantor Rosen and Rabbi Krauss and literally switching caps to take ground balls and turn double plays. 

At the time, it never occurred to me those two worlds that meant so much to me, would intersect in such a meaningful and memorable way. Yet here I am, 43 years after my Bar Mitzvah, standing in front of Team Israel as they prepare to play in the 2026 World Baseball Classic. 

In my nearly 30 years sharing the Game On Nation message, I’ve delivered tens of thousands of presentations, but I’ve never delivered a session where I felt this connected to the culture, to the land, and to the people in the room. And that closeness created a unique challenge. 

What I realized was when you present to people who share your background, your traditions, and/or your story, it can be a challenge to stay grounded. The emotional connection runs deeper, the stakes feel higher, and you want to stay emotionally grounded and be present in the moment. 

At the same time, that closeness is also an incredible blessing. There’s something so powerful about having the privilege to stand in front of your people, honor the connection, and serve them. 

That’s exactly what this experience was for me. And just like my only homerun I hit in Little League, as I was presenting, my heart was racing, I was in a bit of disbelief, and I probably went faster than was needed. But in all the excitement, anticipation, and honor, I did my best to remain grateful and present, and I can confidently say this was an experience, just like my Bar Mitzvah, that I’ll cherish forever. 

Just as I did after my only homerun, I headed home after my session, gathered my senses, and reflected on what just occurred. With a bit more experience and wisdom now than I had when I raced around those bases in 1982, here are my takeaways from my time with Team Israel. I hope these reflections and applications help you as much as they have helped me when we find ourselves... almost too close: 

1. Stay Grounded in Your Purpose 

When emotions run high and you’re full of excitement and anticipation, remember why you’re there. You’re not there to impress people you admire or people who know you well. You’re there to serve them well, like you would any other audience. 

2. Let Authenticity Do the Work 

When you share history, culture, and/or personal connection with your audience, you don’t need to be performative. Authenticity resonates much more than polished perfection. As my daughter reminds me on the daily, “Dad, don’t be extra!” 

3. Treat the Moment as a Privilege, Not Pressure 

Presenting to people you care about and/or know intimately can feel like added pressure. But reframing it as a privilege can change everything. Gratitude steadies you and can keep you grounded, while keeping the moment light and joyful. 

With all that said, and my session with Team Israel done, I’m reminded that the most meaningful audiences are the ones closest to your heart. And sometimes the greatest challenge, and the greatest blessing, is realizing you’re not just speaking to any audience. You’re speaking to and honoring your culture, your ancestors, and you’re people. 

And in this case, as I stood in front of these amazing ball players representing Israel, my heart was full. I reflected back to 1982 when I was a 12-year-old, high energy, Jewish kid, who would switch on the fly from a Yarmulka at Temple Beth Ami to a baseball cap at West Covina American Little League, wearing both with connection and pride.

L’chaim and Play Ball.