The Golden Ball

How to Carry a Dream

July 11, 2026

Timothy Phillips

The sounds of children playing “wood chips” in the park brings out the father in me. Wood Chips is the current version of “Keep-Away” or “Lava Monster”. I played those games too when I was nine years old. The group taunted the person who was “it” and the person who was it squealed with accomplishment when another person was tagged.

Childhood. Why were possibilities endless? Because they were. Children don’t need an iPad full of apps they need a stick. A sandlot with the right kids is greater than any amusement park. “I’m going to use my stick to defend my tree from the outside barbarians and you, my friend, can be my scout!” All the kids play on the tree like a Viking forging the open sea.

My parable begins.

The nine year old boy wakes up Saturday morning in that tender time before Dad closes the bathroom door and Mom makes breakfast. He surveys the box of toys in the garage and settles on an over-fist-sized ball. A golden ball.

He plays lazily down the street periodically bouncing the ball. The noise of the bouncing ball grabs the attention of various dogs on the block who are motivated to bark loudly in the boys direction.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce.

Then the ball makes an awkward bounce off a chipped rock and leaps forward down the street. The ball bounced down the street and the boy gave chase with the mighty horse power of nine year old legs. The chase came to an abrupt end as the ball bounced into a cage. A life-size cage, where a mid-thirties hand scooped up the ball.

There in the cage was a man with messed up hair and stubble on his face. When he stood he appeared giant-like. He casually hid the golden ball under his plaid button up shirt.

“Excuse me sir,” the boy asked nervously. “Can I have my ball back?”

The man dismissively answered, “Sure, when you let me out of this cage.”

That answer startled the boy so much that he ran home to the security of his dad and the breakfast of his mom.

A few years go by and the boy of nine is now sixteen. A boy, who just a week ago relied on the availability of Mom or Dad to escort him with any car driving distances, now has a brand new drivers license; his card to freedom. That Saturday morning he woke up early with a loud thought in his head. He remembered the lost Golden Ball.

The young teen made his way down the street. The sun making heavy leaf shadows in the road. A few of the neighborhood dogs stood at attention as he walked by with a few of them barking a warning if he ever decided to approach their lawn. Sure enough at the end of the street the cage still stood, though a bit weathered.

Inside the cage there was no longer a man of thirty-five but a man of forty. His hair has grown down to shoulders with the consistency of a birds-nest. His beard is now much longer and unkept. He did have a newer shirt. The plaid button up shirt was replaced by a light-blue business shirt loosely tucked into his pants. A small wooden desk was on one end of the cage and his hand held something in it but was hidden under his shirt. He watched as the boy approached the cage.

“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but I believe you have my ball. Can I please have it back?”

While holding eye contact he reveals the ball from under his shirt. “If you want this ball then let me out of this cage.” His bark was as aggressive as the neighborhood dogs. With that he re-hid the ball under his shirt.

The teen now scared retreated home and tried to bury the thoughts of this exchange with thoughts of where he and his friends would be going tonight.

Years go by and this teen is now a young man. He is now a college graduate with a degree in accounting. He was getting very excited about his future. This Saturday morning he woke up early and put on his favorite casual outfit. As usual his white t-shirt was clearly seen through the unbuttoned shirt. He chose to go through the garage to get to his car on the drive-way. This time in the garage he noticed his old box of toys up on the shelf. The old toys in the old box reminded him of his lost golden ball. He wondered ….

He made his way down the street. The sunlight cast shadows of the branches and leaves over himself and his path. At the end of his journey was the cage. It appeared somewhat smaller. The cage was more weathered with signs of rust on the welding cracks between bars. The man now in his fifties sat with his back to him behind a wooden varnished desk. He wore a dark blue sport coat. Light silver strands of hair can be seen in his shaggy very overgrown hair.

“Excuse me, sir? Sir? Remember me? I believe my ball bounced into here some time ago and I was hoping to recover it.”

The man swiveled his chair around to face him. His silver laced beard matched his hair. His eyes had more steel in them than before. He pulled out the golden ball from under his sport jacket. It’s been many years since I saw the ball, it never aged. “This ball?” He placed the ball on his desk on top of a bunch of loose papers and manila folders. “You want this ball? Let me out.” His voice commanded. Without lifting his gaze he picked up the ball and put it inside the top right drawer of the wooden desk.

These encounters always unsettled and scared the young man and this time was no different. He scuffled away awkwardly all the while he kept thinking to himself why did he bother. He made it home and was looking to distract himself from that encounter. He thought about his big plans this year. “I’m getting married this year.” That was a good thought. “My wife and I better find a house soon and lock in a good mortgage rate.” That was a good thought too because of how timely it was. “I am starting my new job next week.” It was a job he was thinking about for quite some time that finally came through. With all his distracting thoughts in place he was ready for the day. He last thought was to button up his light-blue dress shirt as he crossed the garage.

Time flies when you have responsibilities and he sure did. This seasoned father had two kids that were entering sixth and ninth grade. His wife did the majority of chauffeuring for the family, but he made sure he helped out too. His new promotion will take some time to get used to but he knew the price he would have to pay for the expected results. This weekend was especially time consuming as the family lumbered to get the final boxes packed for the big move. His wife made sure that any item in the house that wasn’t used in the last few years would make it to the curb and not the moving van. Some of the old boxes in the garage didn’t make it to the van.

He went for one last stroll in the neighborhood before the sun set. Most of the leaves have already fallen and only the long crooked edges of the branches were visible in the sunlight. He forgot about the caged man that made him nervous so many years ago. He forgot him until he didn’t. Sure enough he came across the cage, but there wasn’t much of a man inside. The man sat at a big wooden desk. This time he could make out a red tie through his shaggy but thinning beard. His grey hair now grew out of his head like crab grass, but much longer. His desk had two sets of picture frames opened towards the old man. This detail stood out for the seasoned father because he picked out the same frames for himself. The old man now in his seventies didn’t even make eye contact but acknowledged his presence with a slight nod.

The seasoned father looked at the old man longer than before. “Let him out,” was all he could think of. He surveyed the cage. It was very weathered and tarnished. The welding that held the cage together was cracked wide and rust randomly patterned the bars. The lock on the door stood firm but the hinges did not. The seasoned father tugged at the door…three…four…five times and the door ripped off. The seasoned father let gravity do it’s work and let the rusted door fall to the ground.

The old man sighed and stood up. His body lost whatever enthusiasm it once had. He reached into the top desk drawer and with a wrinkled hand retrieved a golden ball. It took a little time for him to shuffle from behind the desk to the open door, but he did. The old man placed the ball in the seasoned father’s hand. Then brushed passed him and disappeared down the street.

We all have a wonder, purpose, possibility, life and the will to chase it. The Golden Ball. If we lose it, we will spend the rest of our lives hoping it comes back.

Distractions get in the way of being passionate. Very justifiable distractions. Two car payments, a mortgage, a reputation to protect and the proper raising of our children. Our carefree spirit starts giving way to fear, self-consciousness, and the opinions of others.

Good news. Just the fact that we recognize that a golden ball exists greatly increases your likeliness of getting it back.

I met men and women in their thirties, forties, and fifties who had somehow found their golden ball again. They smiled differently. They laughed easily. They were excited about tomorrow. They weren't simply making a living—they were alive.

That's one of the reasons I built my business.

I've never discovered a meaningful dream that didn't require discipline. We all have to spend eight hours a day fulfilling our responsibilities, but it’s the few who spend another four hours a day on their golden ball, their dream. Their worthwhile dream. Your dream is worthwhile and God-given. Your Dream is Anointed.

My dream is to travel the world with me watching my wife's hand turn tan in mine.

I want to experience things we had never experienced before. Skydiving, different foods, and listening to the stories from across fences.

More than anything…

I wanted to play with my golden ball again.

I wanted to laugh like a little kid.

The kind of laughter you see when someone in their forties or fifties jumps off a bridge on a bungee cord—not because they're reckless, but because somewhere along the way, they found their golden ball again.

sunlit-leadership.com. your worthwhile dreams need to be realized.