By Halley Griggs
One of the greatest gifts sports give us is a sense of grounding. They teach us how to show up, how to lead, how to bounce back, and how to stay connected to something bigger than ourselves. They give us friendships, purpose, resilience, and the steady belief that with intention and effort, we can grow through anything.
At the center of all those lessons is one my parents instilled in me from the very beginning: “Control what you can control.”
Growing up, no matter the game or the outcome, the moment the car door shut, my parents would often pose the same question: “Could you control it?”
If I started talking about a referee’s calls, or playing time, or positions, or anything about a teammate’s choices or performance — it didn’t matter how strongly I felt — the conversation ended there. Hard stop. Not because they weren’t listening, but because they were teaching me something more valuable: Your power lives in what you bring to the moment. Not in what anyone else does.
I think back often to those car rides and conversations. There were plenty of times I pushed back or resisted the message — but my parents never wavered. They stayed the course, and I’m grateful they did.
From a young age, they taught me to place my energy in the things that truly belonged to me: my effort, my attitude, my work ethic, the kind of teammate I was, my response to adversity. Those were the things I could control.
Those were the things that shaped me.
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There’s a real freedom in narrowing your focus to what’s within your reach. It teaches you not to spiral into comparisons. It teaches you to celebrate others without losing sight of your own journey. It teaches you that consistency matters more than circumstances. It teaches you that you can thrive even when things don’t go your way.
I didn’t realize then how far that lesson would travel. It’s shown up in college, in work, in coaching, in motherhood — and in the chapters that tested me more than any game ever did.
WHEN LIFE REINFORCES THE LESSON
While I won’t go deeply into this journey again the way I did in our launch article, I’ll say this: welcoming my daughter, Charley, early in 2024 — and navigating the months that followed — reaffirmed every lesson sport had ever taught me.
It was a chapter filled with unknowns. And in those moments, I found myself returning to the same grounding truths:
My presence was in my control.
My advocacy was in my control.
My energy, my hope, my steadiness — those were mine.
Holding onto those things made all the difference.
KEEPING TWO FEET ON THE GROUND
Around that same time, I read something written by Amanda Jones Vaughan — a former Duke lacrosse player whose reflections (and style) I’ve admired for years. She wrote about the importance of keeping two feet on the ground, especially during life’s most demanding seasons. It stayed with me because it named something I had been feeling but couldn’t articulate.
Keeping two feet on the ground, to me, means staying present. Balanced. Rooted. It means allowing yourself to hold more than one truth at once — without tipping too far into one extreme and losing your footing.
Because when you lean too far into disappointment, you can topple.
And when you force yourself too far into positivity, you lose your center — and your balance.
Two feet on the ground means:
You can feel frustrated and grateful.
You can feel fear and hope.
You can be proud of a teammate and hungry for your own growth.
You can want more and appreciate where you are.
It’s not about splitting yourself — it’s about grounding yourself.
WHERE THESE TWO LESSONS MEET
This is where controlling the controllables and staying grounded meet: Control what is yours. Stand with two feet on the ground in what isn’t. Stay rooted in who you are, regardless of circumstance.
Sports lay the foundation. Life layers the meaning. Leadership calls you to live it out loud.
These lessons don’t end when a season does — they build who you become.
To our TTL athletes:
There will be days when things feel unfair, overwhelming, or unclear — in sports and in life. That doesn’t define you. What matters is what you choose to bring to those moments:
Your effort.
Your attitude.
Your heart.
Your work ethic.
Your two feet on the ground.
(Okay… what should we talk about next?)