During my senior year of high school, I was cut from the lacrosse team.

I was deemed expendable, replaced in the starting lineup by a freshman — never to play lacrosse, or any other sport for that matter, again.

POOF — went my pride, yanked through the bright green thistle where it had once frolicked in camaraderie.

Okay, it wasn’t that dramatic, and to be precise, I actually quit—for a variety of reasons. But the experience didn’t feel great. Having just made varsity the year prior, the achievement meant a lot to me. The prestige and thrill of the game had become part of my identity.

Losing my starting spot was a crosscheck to the head.

However, it wasn’t merely losing the starting position to a first-year that damaged my self-esteem, that freshman who took my spot might have indeed deserved it.

No, the real sting came from the lack of communication and transparency around the decision. One game I was a starter; the next, I was benched with no explanation. Weeks passed in silence, my playing time minimal. Eventually, I had enough and decided to quit.

Looking back, I wonder if I should have just worked harder, voiced my frustrations and sought clarity on what it would have taken to regain my spot before making the decision to quit.

The answer is yes. I should have.

However, I also believe that an open and honest discussion would have made a world of difference in my adolescent self.

A conversation along the lines of,

“Look, Sean, we know you had a decent season last year. But this year, you’re struggling, and we can tell you’re not fully engaged. The team has some young talent and is preparing for the next generation. So here’s what we’re gonna do:

We’ll honor your last season by giving you a chance to demonstrate your abilities, but you’ll be sharing time with the new kid. With college on the horizon, we see this as an opportunity for you to push yourself, enhance your teamwork and time management skills, and build mentoring capabilities.

Lets figure out the best solution here for you and the team.”

What if my coach had this conversation with me? Would I have felt respected, fought harder, balanced my commitment to the team with my other responsibilities, learned new skills, and proved my worth?

Honestly, I’m not sure. I was a young, stubborn kid with other priorities at the time.

However, I do know this: if that conversation had happened, I would have felt better than I did when I quit — perhaps saving a bit of face, forever so subtly fettered within the pigments of that turf-infested field.