A note from the editor: welcome to Sport Passport

Providence Park under the lights during some Thorns Academy work from my days with Providence Sports Medicine.

If you spend enough years in one industry, you inevitably meet professionals who want to carve a new path, but without abandoning their direction or destination.  I’ve been working in and around sports in some form or another since 2004 and I don’t see that changing any time soon, however it may be time for my own detour along the journey. 

In late spring of 2025, I received news alongside roughly 140 coworkers at Providence Health System that our positions and programs were being eliminated. Executives cited cost-cutting during difficult times for healthcare, and would refer to the same rationale during more mass layoffs during the rest of 2025. It’s news no one wants to hear, but in the months since, I’ve found a silver lining in the turbulence. 

Transitions like these create space to reflect and take stock of where things are, how someone gets to a point in their career,—and why their career mattered in the first place.

When did my journey in sports even begin?

Flashback to 2004 where I was a senior in high school and wanted to cap my athletic career with a strong track season. I set an aggressive but realistic goal: run 10.90 in the 100 meters. The year prior, I’d run 11.34 and trained consistently through football and strength work. I also began working closely with my mentor and longtime friend, strength coach Mark McLaughlin in the off-season from football to prepare myself.

When track season began, our school’s newly hired head coach assured me I’d hit 10.90—if I followed his program exactly. I won’t name any names, but those that know him are aware of him citing past success with elite Oregon sprinters during that time. Mark McLaughlin, an accomplished performance coach in his own right, had concerns about the plan and wanted to prioritize my health heading into the season. Once competition started though, the track program would take full control.

I followed the plan precisely: every rep, every lap, every lift. Despite that commitment—and some inevitable, deserved headbutting—I wasn’t getting faster. I struggled to match my previous personal best and qualified for the district final in the 100m finishing in second place with an 11.55- a time that wouldn’t exactly stir confidence in me miraculously reaching my goal at the state meet I had fortunately just qualified for.

That state track meet down at University of Oregon felt like my last chance to salvage the season. The coaching staff promised a shift in focus, but those of us who qualified for state sensed the outcome before we arrived.

Even as an Oregon State grad-school alum, I’ll admit there are few venues as memorable as Hayward Field in spring. The setting was stunning—and, in hindsight, the scenery was the saving grace of the experience.

In my preliminary heat, I started well but felt flat. Between the 40 and 50 meter mark, I could start to see sprinters in my peripheral vision. It was almost like running in slow motion for me; either they were creeping ahead or I was falling flat- probably a bit of both. When I crossed the line and looked up at the scoreboard at the top of the curve, I caught a glimpse just in time to see my name slide down the standings. The time—11.79—was the second slowest of my career.

Ouch.

Reality setting in for a 17-year-old me after my preliminary heat of the 100m dash at the 2004 OSAA State Championship meet at University of Oregon's Hayward Field.

Give credit where it’s due, the OSAA did an awesome job having professional photography at the event to capture memories for competitors.  I found a few photos of myself from that moment: head down, walking off the track, discouraged. It captured something important. Not my best performance—but a turning point.

How many of us have a snapshot of the exact moment we discover a new purpose?

Walking off the track, I felt certain I was capable of more: running faster, getting stronger and more powerful. I also knew the training I’d followed during track wasn’t the answer.  I wanted to understand performance—not blindly comply with it. Track had been a tool to enhance my football prospects, and I wasn’t done chasing that goal.

(As a fun exercise sometime- ask me about the training program I had to follow as a sprinter under that track staff, and see if explaining it still makes my heart rate race.)

After graduation I trained independently, coached high school football, and eventually reconnected with Mark McLaughlin to begin training with him again. By the next spring after several great months working with Mark, I walked on at Portland State and had a great spring ball.  My 40yd dash time during winter testing with Vikings?  4.44- a big leap from the 4.77 PR I had struggled to achieve during track season.  

Remember cellphone cameras in 2005? From the Portland State University Spring Game, 2005. Left: Mark McLaughlin in his powerlifitng days, Center: myself trying not to give thought to 51 being a strange number for a safety, Right: my high school football coach Sean Cease.

By the next year I transferred to Western Oregon University to continue playing and focus on my degree path in Exercise Science.  I encountered new obstacles that led to a medical retirement of sorts, but those experiences served to deepen my resolve to understand performance from the inside out.

Years later that pursuit has taken many forms. I’ve worked as a strength and conditioning coach and sports scientist at multiple levels of sport from youth to professional, worked in clinical sports medicine, led research programs, lectured at the university level, and co-founded and consulted for sports tech and SaaS companies—all while continuing to coach. 

Circa 2014- pregame on the sidelines at Oregon State standing with a cast of legendary characters.

Circa 2016 during my days with Falcon Pursuit heading up the Sport Science research team, pictured with researcher/former classmate JD Welch down in the lab at Oregon State.

2018, a photo likely taken by Craig Mitchelldyer (Instagram @craigmdyer), after a very good day at the office during my days with the Timbers.

I’ve lived the pain points that stall progress for athletes and teams at every level, and that's something that has always kept my fire burning to push the boundaries in helping athletes and teams.

So when my position with Providence was eliminated in 2025, after the initial shock wore off, I quickly returned to my “why.” I reconnected with the same questions that pulled me into this field years ago.

Throughout my career, I’ve encountered professionals who reminded me of my old track coach—people with all the answers, despite results that didn’t support them. Across youth, high school, collegiate, and professional sport, there are moments that force us to ask: How did this happen? And why?

This Sport Passport platform is my way of exploring those questions. It’s more than a platform—it’s an attempt to peel back the layers of sport, performance, and sports technology from both the front lines and the sidelines. There are excellent resources already doing this work, from platforms like Simplifaster (where I’ve written before) to podcasts, social channels, and industry events.

My goal is for Sport Passport to blend frontline experience with honest, balanced commentary. Coaching the X’s and O’s, player development, team performance, sports science, athletic training, strength and conditioning, product development, program leadership, technology and innovation—I want all perspectives represented and elevated.

Maybe my focus on silver linings means my head is in the clouds about what’s next. But I hope Sport Passport isn’t just part of my journey through sport and performance—I hope it becomes part of yours as well.