Release the Wolves
April 13, 2023 | Season 1, Issue 4
"It's hard to explain what I'm actually grieving. Over the last two years with the Phillies, I was part of this beautiful ecosystem. An ecosystem that was complex, dynamic, and healthy. It allowed me, and others, to thrive. It was teeming with life. And I don't have that anymore."
Ben listened to me as I shared during our regularly scheduled Thursday afternoon counseling session. He's a good listener.
We talked for the next 45 minutes about this idea of a "beautiful ecosystem." For some reason, that phrase came bubbling out.
Why did I use those specific words? What does this ecosystem consist of? How do I move on now that it's gone?
It is a few weeks later and I can't stop thinking about it...
A Beautiful Ecosystem
Ecosystems are complex. There are living components, like plants and animals. And there are non-living components, like temperature and the natural environment. When all conditions are right, ecosystems are dynamic. Full of life. Full of color. Full of beauty.
That is what I felt during my last two seasons.
Since coming back in 2021, I invested in relationships with my teammates, coaches, and staff. I worked to keep my arm as healthy as I could. I put in the work and saw success.
But I was also the product of a healthy habitat. When the culture is strong, there is a common goal greater than any one individual. This promotes growth. And I wasn't the only one who benefitted from this.
As far as I was concerned, I was home. I was happy to be a small piece of this beautifully complex ecosystem, full of healthy people and healthy environments. So, I thrived. And I felt like I had an impact on others too, helping them thrive. I got purpose from being a part of this system. That purpose was being fulfilled every day.
But now?
"Unexpected change isn't easy," Ben expressed. "And I know it hurts right now. But it can be an opportunity for something new, something better to come."
Then, he asked me a question that flipped my perspective on its head:
"What if we look at it like this... Instead of seeing yourself as a piece of the Phillies' ecosystem, what if the Phillies were a piece of your ecosystem?"
"What do you mean?" I questioned.
"I mean... what if we considered what it takes for Mark's ecosystem to be beautiful? You're in grief. You wish you were fully healthy, playing well. You wish you were still in the clubhouse. But those things are only one component of your ecosystem. What else do you need to be full of life? Full of color? Full of beauty?"
The Yellowstone Experiment
From 1995-1997, the United States government released 41 wolves into Yellowstone National Park. Nobody could've predicted their effect on the habitat over the next 30 years.
Prior to this, the wolves' absence had been a disaster. When the region's wolves became extinct in the 1920s, the elk population grew. Elk eat grass, shrubs and trees. But this overconsumption had a tragic domino effect on Yellowstone:
Grizzly bears had less food for hibernation, leading to a declining population.
Rabbits and other critters had less places to hide from their predators, also resulting in decreased populations.
Bees and hummingbirds had fewer flowers to pollinate.
Songbirds left without trees to nest in.
Additionally, the elk drank from the river more often, eroding the riverbanks and clouding the soil. This resulted in even more damage:
Beavers need clean water and trees to build dams. They had neither.
Fewer dams meant the fish, amphibians and otters began to suffer.
But... in 1995, the wolves came back.
Since the reintroduction of wolves, the elk population has decreased from ~17,000 to ~4,000 today. And the ecosystem's balance is being restored.
(Note: I'm simplifying here. Obviously, there have been other factors that have helped restore the ecosystem, but the wolves have been the most obvious and significant change. For the sake of the illustration, I am reducing these changes simply to: wolves.)
Grizzlies are back, better than ever. Scavengers, like coyotes and bald eagles, have returned with more elk carcasses to pick at. Songbirds, bees, and hummingbirds have their trees and flowers.
The riverbanks have a stronger root structure, due to maturing trees and less soil erosion. Beavers now have trees and clean water to make dams. These changes create habitats for fish, reptiles, amphibians and otters.
Also, the elk population is more robust because only the healthiest elk survived generation to generation.
This is called a "trophic cascade." When one key piece of an ecosystem is brought back, the longterm effects can be widespread.
Mission accomplished.
Elk and Wolves
When I consider my own personal ecosystem, I think about the places I've lived. Houston, TX. The East Bay in California. Stanford. Minor League towns all over the United States. Clearwater. Philadelphia. Each of them a kind of home.
I also think about the people I spend time with. My parents. My brother and sister-in-law. Teammates. Doctors and physical therapists. Coaches. Church. Each of them a kind of community.
Sometimes I can control where I am and who I'm with. Sometimes I can't. Either way, those places and people always play a role in creating my ecosystem. Healthy places and healthy people create healthy habitats.
But the external isn't the only factor.
I know the man I want to be. I want to be physically strong, mentally healthy, emotionally mature, and spiritually rooted. I want to eat clean, sleep well, read and write consistently, and serve people. I want my relationships to be of the highest quality, with God and others.
What do I need inside me to become this person?
As I reflect, an initial list of principles and traits emerge. Purpose. Faith. Discipline. Love. Joy. Grace.
There are many more, but these seem to be some of the most obvious and important pieces of my ecosystem. These are the characteristics deep inside me that affect everything else. When one is missing, all others are worse off.
And ever since my conversation with Ben, I've been asking myself which of these is extinct and which is overpopulated?
In essence, I'm asking, "What are my elk? What are my wolves?"
I've been home for 3 weeks. And one thing that is clear is I still have purpose. I'm going to step on the mound again. That's for sure. I am filled with love for the game and the people that I get to do it with. Even when I'm not in a clubhouse, joy is present. Even when I'm going through times I wouldn't choose, my faith feels stronger than ever.
That leaves grace and discipline. My elk and wolves.
"Ben, I am great at negotiating with myself. I can point out my emotions and honor them. But I feel like when I do that, I give myself a pass and develop bad habits. Why do I do that?"
"When grace stops being grace, it becomes enablement," Ben responded. "It's understandable to give yourself a break when you've had a bad day. That is a good thing. But you need discipline in your life. When that 'break' feeds your bad habits, you are enabling yourself. This isn't what we want."
And just like that, I realized that the indulgent kindness I show myself is not actually kindness. It is excuses. It is enablement wearing kindness's robes. It is deceit; subtle, but absolute.
How did I get here?
Discipline and Grace
I work hard. I'm disciplined. I'm hungry to get better, to improve, to accomplish my goals. This part of me made me a 1st round draft pick in 2012 and 2013. It took me from injured and out of baseball in 2018 to the Big Leagues in 2022. Without it, I do not have success. Without it, I would probably give up and move on with my life when I face tough times. My discipline leads to my success.
But, when expectations are high, perfection masquerades as the goal. And no matter how well I play, I could always play better. The fear of failure helps me, at times. But over the long haul it destroys my self-esteem. When I constantly tell myself how much better I should be or how bad I have been, failure becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If perfect discipline can't make me perfect, why try at all?
To cope, I've learned to be a friend to myself. A friend that is kind, understanding, compassionate, gracious. A friend that is honest about the hard realities of life. A friend that is understanding when I fail, that doesn't beat me up. A friend that honors my emotions. A friend that looks at me when I'm in the dumps and says, "It's okay. I'm with you." And grace is needed, until it overcorrects. Until it goes too far.
Here's the issue:
Grace without discipline is enablement of bad habits in the name of "compassion."
And discipline without grace is perfectionism that leads to self-sabotage.
Both are necessary. Without one, the other will become overpopulated and destroy my ecosystem. They need to keep each other in check.
Release the Wolves
Released. Injured. Out of baseball.
Again.
It's not where I want to be, but it's where I am. My ecosystem is out of balance. So, it's time to release the wolves.
For me, "releasing the wolves" is not overwhelming myself with discipline. It's not looking at perfection and saying, "Anything less is failure." It's not abandoning kindness. It's not ignoring the hard realities of life.
But... it is a choice.
It's a choice to try. It's a choice to work. It's a choice to give a s***. It's a choice to get better, even though I'll fail. It's a choice to wake up every single day and care deeply about my life. It's a choice to want to keep going. It's a choice to not give up. It's a choice to refuse enabling behavior. It's a choice to do the right thing, even when it's hard.
It is a choice.
And when I choose to let the "wolves" of discipline storm into my ecosystem, the "elk" of indulgent grace will shrink. In time, this grace will become healthier and healthier as it balances out. The kindness I show myself will be legitimate kindness. It will not enable, but will pick me up when I fall, like it's supposed to.
Balance creates beauty. And beauty creates joy.
It's time to release the wolves.
“We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
