Turning Setbacks Into Comebacks How We Keep Helping Young Athletes
Some days teach you more than you wanted to learn.
Our 1st Annual Family Day and Car/Vendor show was one of those days. We planned, prepared, worked, prayed, and hoped. We pictured families showing up, kids laughing, people gathering around for a good cause, and money being raised to help young athletes chase goals that matter to them.
Then the weather had other plans.
It kept people away. It changed the energy of the day. It turned what we hoped would be a strong fundraiser into a hard lesson. By the end, we had taken a loss.
I want to be honest about that part, because nonprofit work is often shared after the success story is neat and polished. People see the smiling photos, the thank-you posts, the final donation totals, and the scholarship moments. They do not always see the long hours, the stress, the worry, or the quiet drive home when you are asking yourself what you could have done differently.
That day crushed me.
Not because people did not care. The people who came cared deeply. The volunteers who stood with us were incredible. The people who gave their time and their hard-earned money deserve every bit of gratitude we can offer. They showed up when it would have been easy to stay home.
It hurt because this foundation exists to help children. When an event does not turn out the way I hoped and prayed it would, I feel like I failed the young athletes we are trying to support.
But then I remember Derreck.
My son was never a quitter. So I will not quit either.
When the day does not match the dream
Anyone who has planned a fundraiser knows the work starts long before the event day.
There are calls to make, supplies to gather, people to coordinate, posts to write, schedules to build, and last-minute problems to solve. There are questions about food, tables, prizes, setup, cleanup, volunteers, timing, and weather. There is excitement too, because every detail connects back to a bigger purpose.
For us, that purpose is young athletes.
We want to help children who have the drive but may need support to reach the next step. That might mean help with fees, equipment, travel costs, training opportunities, or the kind of support that tells a child, “You are worth investing in.”
That is what I see when we plan an event. I do not just see tents and tables. I see a young athlete getting a chance. I see a family feeling less pressure. I see a child stepping onto a court, field, mat, track, or rink knowing someone believes in them.
So when Family Day did not bring in what we needed, it felt personal.
The weather was out of our control, but the disappointment still landed hard. I had worked with amazing event helpers who gave their time, ideas, and energy. We all wanted the day to do well. We all wanted the work to turn into real help for children.
When that did not happen, I felt the weight of it.
There is a kind of heartbreak that comes from caring so much. It is not about pride. It is not about wanting an event to look successful from the outside. It is about knowing what the money could have done.
That is the part people do not always see.
Gratitude still belongs in the hard story
A setback does not erase the good that happened.
Even though Family Day did not turn out the way we hoped, I will never overlook the people who came. They chose to spend part of their day with us. They donated. They helped. They encouraged us. Some may have stood in bad weather, offered kind words, or simply reminded us that the mission still matters.
That matters more than I can explain.
When you are standing in the middle of a day that feels like it is slipping away, one kind person can give you enough strength to keep going. One volunteer asking, “What do you need me to do?” can steady the whole team. One family showing up in the rain can remind you that the work is not wasted.
We are grateful for every single person who supported us at each and every event we have.
Thank you to the people who donated their time.
Time is not a small gift. People have jobs, families, bills, errands, and their own struggles. When someone chooses to spend their time helping a foundation serve young athletes, that is love in action.
Thank you to the people who gave their hard-earned money.
Every dollar represents effort. We know that. We do not take it lightly. When someone gives, they are trusting us with something meaningful. That trust pushes us to keep going, keep learning, and keep using every opportunity we can to support the children this foundation was created to help.
Thank you to the event helpers who kept showing up.
No event happens because of one person. It takes people who are willing to lift, carry, organize, clean, answer questions, solve problems, and keep smiling when the day gets hard. Those helpers are a gift.
Family Day was painful, but it was not empty. It showed us who was willing to stand with us when things were not easy.
The quiet pressure behind helping young athletes
When families apply for support, or when we hear about a child with a goal, I feel that responsibility deeply.
Young athletes work hard. They practice when they are tired. They balance school, family life, and competition. They learn discipline, teamwork, confidence, and resilience through sports. For many children, athletics become more than a hobby. Sports can become a source of identity, purpose, friendship, and hope.
That is why access matters.
Talent and determination can take a child far, but costs can stand in the way. Registration fees add up. Equipment wears out. Travel is expensive. Training has costs. Even small expenses can become heavy for a family trying to make ends meet.
This foundation was created to help lift some of that weight.
So when a fundraiser takes a loss, it is not just a bad event result. It feels like fewer chances to say yes. Fewer chances to help. Fewer chances to make things easier for a family that is doing everything it can.
That is why the disappointment hit so hard.
I do not want to fail those children. I do not want their dreams to depend on whether the weather cooperates or whether an event brings in enough people. I know we cannot control everything, but I also know we have to be wise with our time and energy.
That means learning from the hard days.
It means asking honest questions.
What worked, even if the day was difficult?
What did not work?
What can we change next time?
Which events bring in the most support for the athletes?
Where should we put more of our energy?
How can we better protect the foundation from losses?
Those questions are not easy, but they are necessary. They help turn pain into direction.
Regrouping is part of the mission
After a hard event, the easiest thing to do would be to stop.
Stop planning. Stop trying new things. Stop taking risks. Stop putting so much heart into something that might not turn out the way we hoped.
But helping young athletes requires more than one good idea. It requires commitment over time. Some efforts will work. Some will not. Some events will grow. Some may need to change. Some may need to be replaced by something stronger.
That is not failure. That is learning.
We can still honor the effort that went into Family Day while admitting that we need to regroup. We can still be proud of the people who showed up while being honest about the loss. We can still feel disappointed and choose to keep moving.
Regrouping means we do not waste the lesson.
For us, that means putting the same level of effort and time into what does succeed. If another type of fundraiser brings in more support for the athletes, we need to pay attention to that. If certain events connect better with the community, we need to build on them. If people respond more strongly to direct giving, sponsorships, tournaments, raffles, or memorial events, we need to listen.
The mission stays the same, but the methods can grow.
That is one of the hardest parts of nonprofit work. You have to care deeply, but you also have to adapt. You have to hold the dream close, but you cannot be afraid to change the plan.
Family Day may not have gone the way we hoped, but it taught us something important. It showed us that effort alone does not guarantee the outcome. It also reminded us that support can show up in smaller numbers and still mean the world.
Derreck’s example keeps us going
When I think about quitting, I think about Derreck.
I think about his spirit. I think about the way he lived. I think about the kind of determination he carried. My son was never a quitter, and that truth has become part of the foundation’s heartbeat.
There are days when grief and purpose sit side by side.
Sometimes purpose gives grief somewhere to go. It allows love to keep moving. It turns memory into action. It gives us a reason to show up for children who need encouragement, help, and belief.
But purpose does not mean the work is easy.
There are days when it feels heavy. There are days when the numbers hurt. There are days when the effort feels bigger than the result. There are days when I wonder if I did enough, planned enough, asked enough, prepared enough.
Then I come back to the reason.
I did not create this foundation to quit after one hard day. I did not create it only for the easy events, the sunny weather, or the full parking lots. I created it to help as many children as I can.
Derreck would not have wanted me to stop because one day was hard.
So we keep going.
We keep choosing the children. We keep choosing the families. We keep choosing the mission. We keep choosing to believe that even setbacks can become part of the comeback.
That does not mean we ignore the loss. We face it. We learn from it. We adjust what needs to be adjusted. Then we move forward with the same heart and a little more wisdom.
What this setback taught us
A difficult event can teach lessons that a successful one never would.
Family Day taught us that planning has to include backup options. It taught us that weather can change everything. It taught us that we need to be careful with events that require a lot of upfront cost. It taught us to measure not only how much work an event takes, but how much support it can realistically bring back to the athletes.
It also taught us something softer but just as important.
The people who show up on the hard days are part of the foundation’s strength.
They may not fill a crowd, but they fill the gap in a different way. They remind us that the mission is seen. They remind us that community is not only measured by numbers. They remind us that there are people willing to stand beside us, even when the day is not perfect.
That kind of support builds courage.
Going forward, we will be more thoughtful. We will put our time and effort where it can do the most good. We will keep working with people who believe in the purpose. We will keep looking for ways to raise money that truly help young athletes attain their goals.
We will not let one loss define the foundation.
A setback is a moment. The mission is bigger than that.
The comeback starts with showing up again
Turning a setback into a comeback does not happen all at once.
It starts with telling the truth. Family Day was hard. The weather hurt us. The turnout was not what we hoped for. We took a loss. I felt crushed.
Then it continues with gratitude. People came. People gave. People helped. People cared. Those gifts mattered.
Then it moves into action. We regroup. We learn. We put our energy into what works. We plan with more wisdom. We keep the foundation focused on the children.
Most of all, we refuse to quit.
That is the promise I come back to again and again. As long as we can help young athletes, we will keep trying. As long as there are children working toward goals, we will keep looking for ways to support them. As long as Derreck’s spirit is part of this foundation, giving up is not an option.
Some days do not go as planned. Some events do not bring the result we prayed for. Some losses hurt more than we expect.
But a hard day is not the end of the story.
We will carry the lesson. We will honor the people who stood with us. We will remember why we started. And we will keep helping as many children as we can, because Derreck was never a quitter, and neither are we.
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