303. The Real Reason You Feel Excluded | Daddy Ball, Identity & Belonging

⚾ What if exclusion isn't really about you?

Have you ever walked into a room and felt like everyone else knew something you didn't?

Maybe you weren't invited.
 Maybe everyone else seemed to belong.
 Maybe you were left out of the conversation, the meeting, or the decision.

Most of us assume those moments mean we've been rejected.

But what if they reveal something much deeper?

In this episode of The Kathie Owen Perspective, Kathie reads Chapter 7: Daddy Ball from her book, The Truth Bubbles Up, and explores one of the most important human patterns she's ever observed.

Although this story begins on a Little League baseball field, it isn't really about baseball.

It's about identity, belonging, attachment, exclusion, and the invisible patterns that shape human behavior.

As a consultant specializing in Human Diligence™, Kathie has seen these same patterns appear inside founder-led companies, leadership teams, mergers and acquisitions, families, volunteer organizations, and relationships.

The baseball field simply became the first classroom.

This episode will challenge the way you think about exclusion—and may completely change the way you see people.

🎯 In this episode, you'll discover:

⚾ Why "Daddy Ball" has very little to do with baseball

🧠 The hidden connection between identity and exclusion

👀 Why people often exclude others without realizing they're doing it

💬 What communication breakdowns reveal about a family, team, or organization

🏢 How these same patterns show up in workplaces, leadership teams, and mergers & acquisitions

🌱 Why pressure reveals hidden attachments

❤️ How children often carry emotional burdens they were never meant to carry

🔍 Why curiosity is more powerful than resentment

💡 How learning to observe human behavior creates better leaders and healthier organizations

📚 Featured in this Episode

Chapter 7: Daddy Ball
From the book: 📖 The Truth Bubbles Up

This chapter explores the invisible dynamics of belonging, exclusion, status, attachment, and identity through a deeply personal story that eventually became one of the foundational observations behind Kathie's work in Human Patterns Under Pressure.

🌟 A Powerful Reminder

The story isn't about baseball.

It's about what happens when adults attach their identity to roles, status, recognition, belonging, or control.

The setting changes.

The human pattern doesn't.

Whether you're leading a company, raising a family, navigating relationships, or trying to understand yourself, these hidden dynamics influence far more than most people realize.

🔗 Resources Mentioned

📖 Get the book:
The Truth Bubbles Up
👉 www.kathieowen.com/truthbubblesup

📝 Read the companion article (includes additional insights and resources):
👉 https://www.kathieowen.com/blog/daddy-ball

🎥 Watch this episode on YouTube:
👉 https://youtu.be/E7rIZ5tmTjM?si=Q2FWrtkUTzEsQG2d

🌐 Visit Kathie Owen:
👉 www.kathieowen.com

💬 Let's Continue the Conversation

Have you ever experienced exclusion that later helped you understand human behavior differently?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Leave a comment on YouTube or connect with me on social media.

Sometimes the moments that hurt us the most become the moments that teach us the most.

👋 About Kathie Owen

Kathie Owen is a private consultant specializing in Human Diligence™ for founder-led and private equity-backed companies. She helps leaders recognize the invisible behavioral patterns that traditional due diligence often misses—including executive misalignment, attachment, communication breakdowns, culture risk, and leadership dynamics under pressure.

Through speaking, consulting, and writing, Kathie teaches leaders how pressure reveals the truth about people, teams, and organizations—so they can make better decisions before problems become expensive.

⭐ If you enjoyed this episode, please follow the podcast, leave a review, and share it with someone who has ever felt excluded or wondered why people behave the way they do under pressure.

#HumanPatternsUnderPressure #HumanDiligence #LeadershipPsychology #Belonging #Exclusion #ExecutivePresence #OrganizationalCulture #WorkplaceCulture #Leadership #EmotionalIntelligence #FounderLed #PrivateEquity #PsychologicalSafety #TheTruthBubblesUp

The Kathie Owen Perspective

Helping leaders, founders, and professionals recognize the human patterns that shape leadership, culture, communication, and emotional regulation under pressure.

🌐 Website: https://www.kathieowen.com

📖 Articles & Bonus Resources: https://www.kathieowen.com/blog

🎤 Human Patterns Under Pressure Live
Join an upcoming live event to explore leadership psychology, nervous system regulation, and the hidden patterns that influence performance, relationships, and workplace culture.

📱 Connect with Kathie:
 • LinkedIn
• YouTube
• Facebook
• Instagram
• Pinterest

If this episode helped you see something differently, please follow the podcast, leave a review, and share it with someone who could benefit from the conversation.

Pressure doesn't define us. It reveals the patterns we've yet to observe.

Transcript

Kathie (2) 0:00

Have you ever walked into a room and instantly felt like everyone else knew something you didn't? Maybe everyone was laughing about something you weren't invited to. Maybe the meeting happened without you. Maybe everyone had the matching coffee mug. Maybe everyone knew where dinner was except you. It hurts, but today I wanna suggest something that completely changed how I see these moments. I no longer think exclusion is the real story. I think attachment is, and once you see that, you'll start recognizing the same pattern everywhere. Welcome to the Kathie Owen Perspective Podcast. My name is Kathie Owen, and I study what pressure reveals about people. I help leaders, founders, and private equity firms recognize the invisible human patterns that financial statements never show. I call it human diligence. One of the patterns I see over and over again is what happens when people become attached to an identity, because attachment quietly changes behavior. It changes communication. It changes leadership. It changes families. It changes companies. And today, I want to show you one of the first places I ever saw that pattern. It wasn't a boardroom. It was on a Little League baseball field. Today comes from the chapter seven of my book, The Truth Bubbles Up. The chapter is called Daddy Ball. The names have been changed to protect everyone's privacy, but the human patterns are exactly as they happened. If you'd like to read the entire story, I'll put a link to the book in the description and show notes below. But even if you've never watched a baseball game, I think you're gonna recognize yourself somewhere in this story Chapter seven, Daddy Ball. "Baseball is like church. Many attend, few understand," Leo Durocher. I have loved baseball for as long as I can remember. My father loved sports, especially football, but baseball became my game. Some of my earliest memories involve dusty Little League fields, snow cones, long summer evenings, and chasing friends around the ballpark while our brothers played baseball. Most people think baseball is boring. I understand why. If you're only watching the ball, it can be. But baseball was never just about the ball. Every pitch matters. Every decision matters. Every situation matters. The game rewards patience, observation, and understanding patterns. Looking back, that probably explains why I loved it so much. Long before I studied psychology, long before I worked in corporate wellness, long before I advised leaders, I was already studying human behavior from the bleachers. I just didn't know it yet. When Kevin started playing Little League, it quickly became obvious that he had a gift. He was only seven years old, but he looked completely natural on a baseball field, like he had been born with a glove on his hand. I was amazed and excited. I thought I was entering the world of youth baseball. Instead, I entered a world I would later call Daddy Ball. Daddy Ball has very little to do with baseball. Daddy Ball happens when adults become more invested in what the game means about them than it means for the child playing it. The stated purpose is baseball. The real game is identity, status, recognition, belonging, control. I didn't understand that at first. I learned quickly. This particular league was legendary. Several teams had advanced all the way to the Little League World Series. Many parents treated youth baseball as a pathway to something bigger, scholarships, recognition, success, pride. Some lived through their children so completely that it became difficult to tell where the child ended and the parent began. Kendall fit perfectly into that environment. Ironically, he had always hated baseball. When my brothers invited him to Astros games, he complained constantly about how boring it was. Suddenly, however, he loved the sport, or maybe he loved what the sport represented. He became a coach, his wife became the team mom, and before long, I started seeing familiar patterns emerge. The first clue appeared when Kevin's first game of the season. Every mother on the team carried a matching canvas bag embroidered with baseball mom. They had all been given as gifts. Every mother except one, me. At the time, I felt excluded. Today, I see something else. Systems reveal themselves quickly. The bags weren't really bags, they were signals. Who belongs? Who doesn't? Who is included? Who isn't? Every group has them. Corporate cultures, families, friend groups, leadership teams. Little League was no different. What fascinated me wasn't the exclusion, it was how normal everyone acted. That's another pattern I've noticed throughout my life. The longer people live inside a system, the less they notice its rules. One Easter weekend, I arrived at one of Kobe's games, ready to watch him play. I couldn't find him. A mother I barely knew approached me. "Are you looking for Kobe?" she asked. I nodded. "He's not here. They're out of town for Easter." I stood there stunned, not because he was out of town, because no one had told me. A stranger knew more about my son's whereabouts than I did. At the time, I left in tears. Today, I see something different. Communication failures reveal a great deal about a system. The people closest to the situation weren't communicating. A stranger became the bridge. The pattern would show up repeatedly throughout my life, at baseball fields, in families, and eventually in workplaces. One season ended with a large awards ceremony. Hundreds of children crowded the field. Parents lined the sidelines. I searched for Kevin among the sea of uniforms. One father approached me. "Are you looking for Kevin?" he asked. I nodded. "He's at the Astros game with Kendall, watching Roger Clemens pitch." Again, no one had told me. Again, a stranger knew more than I did. Again, I drove home in tears. For years, I thought those moments were about exclusion. Now, I think they were about ownership. Who gets to claim the experience? Who gets proximity to success? Who gets the photograph? Who gets the story? The pattern is far bigger than baseball. It shows up everywhere human beings attach their identity to achievement, and nowhere was that more obvious than with Kevin. By twelve years old, he had become one of the best players in the state. The baseball world revolved around tournaments, travel, private coaching, summer leagues, all-star teams, endless practices. Kendall invested heavily in his development. The best coaches, the best opportunities, the best exposure, and Kevin thrived. He genuinely loved the game. That mattered because many children trapped in daddy ball don't. Kevin did. Baseball lived inside of him the way psychology lived inside of me, the way kindness lived inside of Kobe, the way teaching lived inside my father. Some passions are simply part of a person's nature. One summer, Kevin's team advanced to the state championship in Waco. The winner would move to the Little League World Series. The game was televised on ESPN. My parents came to watch. We sat down the left field line because I was never able to sit in the parent section. Not with the other families, not with the crowd, just together, watching baseball, watching Kevin. During the game, Kevin hit not one, but two home runs. It was one of the proudest moments of my life for Kevin. Then something happened that I still remember. The television cameras focused on the family section. The announcer began identifying everyone. "There's Kendall, his dad, Kobe, his brother, and Kathie, his mom." Yet it was not me sitting next to Kendall. It was Jenny. The announcers also noticed something else. We were all K.O. Kendall, Kathie, Kevin, Kobe. They joked about whether that had been intentional. It had. For years, K.O. had been more than initials. It was part of our family identity. Sitting there on that hillside listening to strangers describe my family, I realized something. Families can change. Marriages can end. Narratives can be rewritten, but some truths remain stubbornly intact. I was still Kevin's mother. I was still Kobe's mother, and no amount of conflict could change that. And for one brief moment, reality matched reality. No politics, no narratives, no competition, just truth. Kathie, his mom. I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that until I heard it. We lost the game. Oddly enough, I was relieved. Had we won, the entire circus would've moved to Pennsylvania, and by then, I was exhausted by everything surrounded the game that wasn't baseball. Because the longer I watched youth baseball, the less interested I became in the game itself. I was fascinated by the adults. The children were playing baseball. The adults were playing something else entirely. One evening after practice, another lesson arrived. A parent invited the boys and me to dinner after the game. I was excited, not because of the food, because I thought maybe I might finally have a chance to connect with some of the other families. After practice ended, we waited in the parking lot. No one arrived. Eventually, hungry and confused, we left, and we pulled into another restaurant nearby. Immediately, the boys recognized all their teammates' cars. Everyone was already inside. The location had changed. No one told us. Kevin started crying. I felt the tears coming, too. Not because of dinner, because exclusion hurts. Whether you're eight years old or 40- I eventually pulled the truck over to calm down. The boys sat quietly, then we drove home. As I parked in the garage, Kevin stormed into the house. Koby stayed behind. The sweet boy looked at me and said something I will never forget. Don't cry, Mama. When I grow up, I'm gonna be a lawyer and fix all of this." I smiled through the tears. Then I told him the truth. "Koby, by the time you're grown up, all of this will be over." At the time, I thought I was comforting him. Today, I hear something else, a child trying to repair a system he did not create. Children do that all the time. They carry burdens that don't belong to them. They try to heal conflicts they didn't cause. They become peacemakers, protectors, fixers, not because they should, because they love the people involved. Looking back, Daddy Ball taught me something profound. Adults often attach their identity to things that were never meant to carry that weight. Children, titles, teams, roles, success, status, and when they do, everyone around them feels the pressure, especially the children. The baseball field taught me far more than baseball. It taught me to watch human behavior. It taught me to notice systems. It taught me to recognize belonging, exclusion, status, and attachment. Most importantly, it taught me that the real game is almost never the one happening on the field. The real game is the one people are playing inside themselves. All right, that's chapter seven, Daddy Ball, from The Truth Bubbles Up by Kathie Owen, and there are several lessons I wanna unpack from this episode with you today. Lesson number one, the bags were not about the bags. They were membership badges. Every system creates symbols. Some are intentional, and some are not. Companies have them. Families have them. Leadership teams have them. Friend groups have them. They answer one silent question: Who belongs? Lesson number two, people rarely wake up trying to exclude someone. Instead, they're protecting something. Maybe it's status, maybe it's certainty, maybe it's their role, maybe their identity. That's a very different way to look at human behavior Lesson number three: communication reveals the health of the system. One of my favorite lines in this chapter is, "A stranger knew more about my son than I did." That isn't simply poor communication, that's diagnostic information. That is human diligence. Whenever outsiders know more than insiders, pay attention, because something underneath the surface is not functioning well Lesson number four: pressure makes attachment visible. Nobody notices attachment until pressure arrives. Competition, promotion, inheritance, mergers, divorce, sports, leadership succession. That's when identity starts protecting itself. That's why pressure is such an incredible teacher Lesson number five, children often become emotional caretakers My youngest son saying, I'm gonna grow up and become a lawyer and fix all of this," that wasn't just a sweet moment. That was a child trying to repair a system. Children do this constantly. Some become peacemakers, some become comedians, some become perfectionists, some become invisible. They aren't choosing personalities, they are adapting Lesson number six. This is why I teach human diligence. Financial diligence finds numbers. Legal diligence finds contracts. Human diligence finds invisible attachments. Those attachments eventually become conflict, communication breakdown, leadership struggles, culture problems, and enterprise risk. Long before the numbers change, the people already have You know what's interesting is I've experienced versions of this pattern many, many, many different times in my life. I've seen it in corporate leadership. I've seen it in relationships. I've seen it in business. I've seen it in mergers and acquisitions. I've seen it in volunteer organizations. Different people, different settings, same human pattern. That's one of the reasons why I wrote this book The stories aren't the point, the patterns are So here's what I hope you take away today. If you've ever been excluded, I know how much that hurts. But what if you become curious instead of defensive? What identity might someone else be protecting? What attachment might they be carrying? That doesn't excuse hurtful behavior, but it changes the way we understand it, and understanding human behavior gives us choices. The moment we stop making everything personal, we begin seeing patterns, and once you see the pattern, you are no longer trapped inside of it. You are observing it, and that's where freedom begins. All right, I'll see you in the next episode.