Believing in the Untouchable: Never Let Someone Else Decide What You Can Become
From 121 Losses to Postseason Dreams: How the Chicago White Sox Taught Me That the Impossible Is Just Waiting for You to Become Ready
There is something powerful about believing in something that everyone else thinks is impossible.
Not difficult.
Not unlikely.
Impossible.
There is a difference.
When something is difficult, people may encourage you to try. When something seems impossible, people begin explaining why you should stop trying.
They tell you to be realistic.
They remind you of the odds.
They point out what you do not have.
They tell you who has more experience, more money, more education, more connections, more talent, or simply a better chance.
Sometimes they laugh.
And sometimes, if you hear those voices long enough, you begin to wonder whether they are right.
But what if they aren't?
What if the thing that looks untouchable today is simply something you have not reached yet?
That thought has been on my mind lately, and strangely enough, baseball brought it into focus.
More specifically, the Chicago White Sox.
The Team Nobody Expected
If you wanted a symbol for being counted out, you wouldn't have had to look far on Chicago's South Side.
In 2024, the White Sox lost 121 games, setting the modern Major League Baseball record for losses in a 162-game season. Then came another 100-loss season in 2025. By the beginning of 2026, expectations were understandably low. FanGraphs noted that preseason projections gave the White Sox only a 1.1 percent chance of reaching the playoffs.
One percent.
Think about that.
If someone gave you a one percent chance of accomplishing your dream, would you keep going?
Would you still show up?
Would you still practice?
Would you still believe?
Or would you decide the experts must know something you don't?
The White Sox kept showing up.
They weren't built around the idea that they needed to look like everyone else's version of a championship contender. The organization had spent years developing younger players and rebuilding its foundation. Going into the season, much of the emphasis remained on developing that young core rather than trying to solve everything through enormous long-term free-agent contracts.
They were young.
They were underestimated.
And from the outside, they probably looked a little like a bunch of kids who hadn't yet learned they were supposed to be intimidated.
There is something wonderfully Sandlot about that.
A group that doesn't necessarily look like the team everyone expects to win.
Kids playing because they love the game.
Players believing in one another.
People figuring things out together.
And maybe, sometimes, not knowing enough to fear what everyone else says is impossible.
By September 2026, the White Sox had done what almost no one expected: they reached the postseason. MLB reported that they became the first team to make the playoffs after consecutive seasons of at least 100 losses, and they had actually endured three such seasons.
Then they kept going.
They swept Houston in the Wild Card Series, earning the franchise's first postseason series victory since the 2005 World Series.
And as I write this, they have opened the 2026 postseason with four straight victories and hold a 2–0 lead over Cleveland in the American League Division Series.
The team everyone could dismiss suddenly became the team nobody could ignore.
And watching that story unfold made me think about something much bigger than baseball.
It made me think about my own life.
I Know Something About Being Told What Is Realistic
When I look back over my life, there are moments when the person I am today probably would have seemed untouchable to the person I was then.
I am a single mother.
I have raised three amazing children.
I have built a career as a Technical Project Manager.
I am a teaching aide.
I am pursuing my master's degree in Project Management.
When I put those things together in one paragraph, they sound very neat.
Life was not neat.
No perfectly organized project plan showed me exactly how to get from where I started to where I am today.
No beautiful roadmap identified every milestone.
There wasn't a risk register telling me what would happen next.
There certainly wasn't a stakeholder meeting where everyone agreed with my decisions.
And there were plenty of times when the future I wanted seemed very far away.
Sometimes almost untouchable.
But I kept reaching for it.
Three Reasons I Never Stopped
Before the degrees, titles, projects, meetings, and professional accomplishments, I had three reasons to keep moving forward.
My children.
Three amazing human beings who have been part of every version of me.
They saw the mother.
They saw the student.
They saw the exhausted version.
They saw the determined version.
They saw the woman trying to figure things out.
They saw me succeed, and I am sure they saw moments when I wondered whether I could.
Being a single mother teaches you things no textbook ever could.
You learn how to prioritize when everything feels like a priority.
You learn resource management when the resources are limited.
You learn risk management because someone is always sick at the least convenient possible time.
You learn scheduling because school, work, appointments, activities, homework, and life do not magically coordinate themselves.
You learn change management because children have absolutely no respect for your carefully constructed plans.
And you learn resilience.
Not the inspirational quote version of resilience.
The real version.
The version where you get up because people depend on you.
The version where you don't have the luxury of quitting just because you are tired.
The version where you cry, regroup, make another plan, and keep moving.
Long before I knew all the formal terminology of project management, life was teaching me some of its most important lessons.
The Path Doesn't Have to Look Traditional
We spend a lot of time comparing our paths to other people's paths.
That can be dangerous.
Someone else graduates at 22.
Someone becomes a manager at 28.
Someone earns a master's degree at 30.
Someone buys a house before you.
Someone reaches the executive level while you're still figuring out your next move.
And suddenly you start asking yourself:
Am I behind?
Behind whom?
There is no universal project schedule for life.
No baseline says you failed because your milestone came five years later than someone else's.
That is one of the greatest lessons I have learned.
Your timeline belongs to you.
My path wasn't always traditional, but it was mine.
Every experience prepared me for something else.
Motherhood taught me patience and adaptability.
Work taught me responsibility.
Challenges taught me resilience.
Education challenged me to think differently.
Project management gave language and structure to instincts I had already been developing for years.
Teaching gave me another perspective entirely because there is something extraordinary about helping another person understand something they didn't understand before.
And now, pursuing my master's degree in Project Management is not about proving that I should have done it sooner.
It is about recognizing that I am doing it now.
That matters.
Becoming a Technical Project Manager
There was a time when the title "Technical Project Manager" would have sounded like something untouchable.
Technical.
Project Manager.
Leadership.
Responsibility.
Teams depending on you.
Stakeholders expecting answers.
Executives wanting updates.
Problems arriving without instructions.
But eventually you learn something.
You do not have to know everything to lead effectively.
You have to be willing to learn.
You have to ask questions.
You have to listen.
You have to know when you don't know something.
You have to bring the right people together.
You have to create clarity when things are confusing.
You have to keep moving when the plan changes.
And you need the courage to walk into a room without pretending to have all the answers.
That last one took time.
Someone will always know more than you about something.
Someone will always have more technical experience.
There will always be someone with another certification or degree.
There will always be someone willing to tell you why you aren't ready.
If you wait until nobody can find a reason to doubt you, you will wait forever.
Eventually, you have to decide that you are willing to learn while moving forward.
That is what growth looks like.
Being Underestimated Can Become Fuel
Another part of this story matters to me.
I know what it feels like to be underestimated.
I am not always the loudest person in the room.
For a long time, I thought leadership was supposed to look a certain way.
The person who speaks first.
The person who commands the room.
The person everyone immediately notices.
But leadership doesn't always announce itself.
Sometimes leadership listens.
Sometimes leadership watches.
Sometimes leadership asks the question everyone else overlooked.
Sometimes leadership notices that a team member has stopped participating and quietly asks why.
Sometimes leadership creates an environment where other people can succeed.
You can be quiet and strong.
You can be thoughtful and decisive.
You can be compassionate and still hold people accountable.
You can lead without becoming someone else.
Being underestimated taught me something important:
Someone else's inability to see your potential does not determine how much potential you have.
They may simply be looking at an unfinished version of you.
The Sandlot Lesson
That brings me back to baseball.
I love the image of a team that feels a little like The Sandlot.
Not because professional athletes are actually neighborhood kids playing behind someone's house. Obviously, they aren't.
But because of what that image represents.
Joy.
Belief.
Youth.
Friendship.
Playing together.
Not being overly impressed by reputations.
Not realizing you are supposed to be afraid.
Sometimes experience tells us all the reasons something can't happen.
Sometimes being new allows us to ask:
Why not?
Why can't we?
Why can't this team win?
Why can't I change careers?
Why can't I go back to school?
Why can't I earn that degree?
Why can't I lead that project?
Why can't I teach?
Why can't I write?
Why can't I learn something completely new?
Why can't I begin again at 30, 40, 50, 60, or 70?
Who decided there was an expiration date on becoming more than you were yesterday?
One Percent Is Still a Chance
I keep coming back to that preseason projection.
About a one percent chance.
Most people hear one percent and think, No chance.
I hear one percent differently.
It means there is a chance.
Small does not mean nonexistent.
Difficult does not mean impossible.
Unlikely does not mean unattainable.
And projections are not outcomes.
That is true in sports, and it is true in life.
A projection is based on what is known today.
But it cannot completely measure who you are becoming tomorrow.
It cannot measure every hour you will spend studying.
Every mistake you will learn from.
Every mentor you will meet.
Every opportunity you will create.
Every difficult conversation that will make you stronger.
Every time you will get knocked down and decide to stand back up.
People make predictions based on the person they see today.
They cannot always see the person you are working to become.
Success Rarely Happens All at Once
The White Sox didn't go from 121 losses to postseason baseball because someone gave a motivational speech and everything magically changed.
Rebuilding takes time.
People change.
Processes change.
Leadership changes.
Skills develop.
Young talent gains experience.
Small improvements accumulate.
Eventually, something that once looked impossible starts to look possible.
That is how most meaningful growth happens.
We want transformation to look dramatic.
Usually, it looks boring while it's happening.
Read another chapter.
Submit another assignment.
Take another class.
Finish another project.
Ask another question.
Have another difficult conversation.
Try again.
Apply again.
Learn another skill.
Get up tomorrow and do it again.
Then one day you look backward and realize you have traveled an extraordinary distance.
The destination that once looked untouchable is beneath your feet.
My Children Are Watching
Something else pushes me.
My children are watching.
Maybe not every minute.
Maybe they don't notice every assignment I complete or every professional challenge I navigate.
But children notice more than we realize.
I want mine to know learning doesn't stop when you reach a certain age.
I want them to know your circumstances don't have to dictate your future.
I want them to understand that you can change direction.
You can struggle.
You can fail.
You can doubt yourself.
You can have days when you aren't sure you have anything left.
And then you can keep going.
I don't need my children to believe that their mother never struggled.
I would rather they know that she did struggle and kept moving anyway.
Because someday they will face their own version of impossible.
And when that happens, I want a small voice somewhere in their memories to say:
I've seen someone do this before.
Education Has No Expiration Date
Being a master's student at this point in my life has reinforced another belief I carry strongly:
Never stop learning.
You will always know something you don't.
Good.
That means there is still something waiting for you.
Ask questions.
Be curious.
Read.
Take the class.
Earn the certification.
Listen to someone younger than you.
Listen to someone older than you.
Learn the new technology.
Try the tool you don't understand.
Walk into the classroom where you feel intimidated.
Raise your hand.
Ask the question you think everyone else already knows.
You might discover they were afraid to ask it too.
Education isn't an admission that you weren't good enough before.
Education is an acknowledgment that you are not finished becoming.
I hope I am never finished.
What Project Management Taught Me About Dreams
Maybe this is why project management fits me.
At its heart, project management is believing that something that does not yet exist can exist.
Think about that.
Every project begins with an idea.
A future state.
Something that isn't real yet.
Then we ask:
What would it take to get there?
What resources do we have?
What are the risks?
Who needs to be involved?
What are the dependencies?
What could stop us?
What is our next milestone?
Maybe we should occasionally manage our dreams the same way.
Instead of asking:
Can I do this?
Ask:
What would it take?
That is a completely different question.
"Can I?" invites fear to answer.
"What would it take?" invites a plan.
Maybe you need education.
Maybe you need experience.
Maybe you need financial preparation.
Maybe you need a mentor.
Maybe you need three years.
Maybe you need ten.
Fine.
Build the plan.
You don't have to reach the destination tomorrow.
You have to stop calling it impossible.
Stop Handing Other People the Pen
People will have opinions about your life.
They will tell you what they think you should do.
Some will genuinely care about you.
Others will project their own fears onto you.
Some will look at your circumstances and calculate your odds.
Some will look at your age.
Your education.
Your finances.
Your family responsibilities.
Your past.
Your failures.
Your personality.
And they will make a prediction.
Let them.
But don't hand them the pen.
They don't get to write the ending.
Maybe you are the single mother who goes back to school.
Maybe you are the quiet employee who becomes the leader.
Maybe you are the person who changes careers later than everyone expected.
Maybe you are the student who struggles and eventually graduates.
Maybe you are the team everyone laughed at.
Maybe you are sitting at the bottom of the standings today.
That doesn't tell me where you will finish.
Sometimes the Impossible Just Needs More Time
We abandon dreams too quickly because they don't happen on our preferred schedule.
We confuse "not yet" with "never."
Those are very different things.
Maybe you aren't ready yet.
Maybe the opportunity hasn't appeared yet.
Maybe you still need to grow.
Maybe you need another skill.
Maybe you need to heal from something.
Maybe you need to fail once more and learn something important.
None of those things mean never.
They mean the story isn't finished.
The White Sox didn't erase 121 losses.
Those losses are part of their history.
My difficult chapters don't disappear either.
They are part of mine.
The goal isn't to erase where we came from.
The goal is to refuse to remain there.
Look Again
Sometimes we need to look back at ourselves.
Not to criticize.
To remember.
Look at the version of yourself from five years ago.
Ten years ago.
Twenty years ago.
Tell that person where you are today.
Tell her what she survived.
Tell her what she learned.
Tell her what she became.
Tell her about the children she raised.
Tell her about the career she built.
Tell her she became a Technical Project Manager.
Tell her she became a teaching aide.
Tell her she went after her master's degree in Project Management.
Tell her she kept learning.
Tell her she didn't quit.
Would she believe you?
Maybe not.
Maybe today's reality would have seemed untouchable to her too.
And that is precisely the point.
Never Say It Is Unattainable
There will always be something beyond your reach.
Reach anyway.
There will always be someone more qualified.
Apply anyway.
Someone will always think your idea won't work.
Build anyway.
Statistics will always suggest the odds aren't in your favor.
Try anyway.
Someone will always look at where you are standing today and believe they know where you will finish.
Surprise them.
Or better yet, stop living to surprise them.
Do it for yourself.
Do it for the people you love.
Do it for the person you haven't become yet.
I look at my three children.
I look at my career.
I look at the projects I have managed.
I look at the people I have had the opportunity to teach and learn from.
I look at the master's degree I am working toward.
And then I look at a baseball team that lost 121 games only two years ago and is now playing October baseball while the world suddenly pays attention.
And I am reminded again:
Today's standings are not tomorrow's outcome.
Your current circumstances are not your final identity.
Other people's opinions are not your destiny.
And "unlikely" is not another word for "impossible."
Sometimes the people who accomplish extraordinary things are not the people everyone expected to succeed.
Sometimes they are simply the people who kept showing up after everyone else stopped believing.
So dream about the thing that feels too big.
Reach for the thing that seems untouchable.
Go back to school.
Change careers.
Lead the project.
Write the book.
Take the chance.
Learn the skill.
Start over.
Believe in the team nobody expects to win.
And most importantly, believe in the person in the mirror when nobody else understands what she sees.
Because if my life has taught me anything, it is this:
Never say something is unattainable simply because you cannot touch it yet.
Keep growing.
Keep learning.
Keep reaching.
You may discover that the impossible was never impossible at all.
It was simply waiting for you to become the person capable of reaching it.
