If I were to write a thank-you letter this Thanksgiving, it wouldn’t be to a person.
It would be to my beloved sport.
To the thing that has shaped me, stretched me, humbled me, and carried me farther than I ever imagined.

Thank you, Bowling.

Thank you for the life lessons, because almost everything I understand about discipline, patience, resilience, and growth came from the lanes. You were my first teacher, long before I knew I was learning anything. You taught me how to show up, how to lose, how to adjust, how to start over, how to keep going when it feels impossible.

Thank you for the people.
The friendships, the cultures, the places, the stories.
Thank you for introducing me to people from around the world who opened my eyes to how big and beautiful life is outside my little bubble. You gave me a passport to humanity, different ways of living, thinking, and competing. You made the world feel both bigger and smaller at the same time.

Thank you for the struggle.
That part doesn’t get enough gratitude.
The early mornings, the doubts, the defeats that sting, the slumps that feel endless. All the moments I questioned myself, you were the one shaping me. Without the struggle, success would feel hollow. Without the hard parts, I wouldn’t have learned who I really am.

And thank you for giving me a vehicle to do good.
Through the Elite Youth Tour, through coaching, through Beyond the Lanes, I discovered that my talent wasn’t just mine. It could touch other people. It could lift them, guide them, remind them of what they’re capable of. Bowling helped me realize that the real win is impact.

Bowling has shaped me far beyond the lanes.
It taught me patience, the kind you can’t fake, the kind you only earn through repetition and humility. It taught me that anything worth having requires more work than you think. And it taught me that sometimes you have to take a step backward to move forward with purpose. Progress doesn’t always look like progress in the moment.

And if there’s one thing I wish young bowlers understood, it’s this:

The struggle is not a detour. It’s the path.
The defeats, the frustrations, the moments where nothing makes sense, they’re not signs that something is wrong with you. They are the very moments that are growing you. You don’t get to skip to the good part. You earn the good part by walking through everything that comes before it.

So this Thanksgiving, when I think about what I’m grateful for, I land here:

Thank you, Bowling,
for the people, the places, the lessons, the battles, the breakthroughs, the purpose, and the chance to give something back.

Thank you for turning a simple sport into a lifelong teacher.

And thank you for shaping me into who I am—on the approach, yes, but even more so far beyond it.