My Honest Reality
March 19, 2023 | Season 1, Issue 1
Welcome to the 2023 baseball season.
Spring training is coming to an end. Opening Day is around the corner. Reporters are on the beat. Pitchers are almost ready. Position players are getting locked in. Fans across the country are enjoying that beautiful optimism of a new season.
But for me, this isn't just another baseball season. This is likely my last baseball season.
Don't get me wrong, I want to play as long as I can. But when you look at the facts, it's my honest reality.
Let me explain...
When I was drafted in 2013, I was a "can't miss" prospect. For 5 years, the Astros and Phillies gave me countless opportunities to develop. Year after year, I was named a top prospect, but never performed. Because I had the "2013 1st overall pick" title attached to my name, I got to extend my career longer than I deserved.
Then, I left the game after the 2017 season. Burnt out. Depleted. And after 3+ years away, I came back in 2021. Hungry. Excited. But now, the days of endless opportunity are long gone. I face a new reality: Every season from now on will likely be my last.
Not dramatic. Candid.
The general truth is baseball is a hard game. Always has been. And after the COVID-19 pandemic, 42 minor league teams and 1,000 jobs for ballplayers were lost. Standards were raised. No longer can a player float through the minor leagues for 5-7 years without showing an ounce of promise, like I benefited from. Leashes are shorter. You are either moving up or moving out.
And my specific truth is I am a 31-year-old rookie relief pitcher with only 6 MLB appearances to my name. I'm not on the 40-man roster. I'm on the fringe of the depth charts. I'm a career 5+ minor league ERA pitcher with a long history of injuries. I know how fragile a pitcher's health and career can be. And because of a flooded free agent market, I likely won't have a chance to play baseball in 2024 unless I play well this year. So, all logic suggests the odds are not in my favor.
Let's just say I'm right where I want to be.
The reality is I am one of a large number of players that find themselves in this "in-between" space. Good enough to help a big league team (in a small role) if given the opportunity, but too old or lacking experience for teams to be patient. The future is wildly uncertain. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed. So, we all have two options: perform or find a new job.
And this reality must be dealt with. It can't be ignored or avoided. Every day, when I show up to the ballpark and put on a jersey, I'm reminded of it.
I know a day is coming when that jersey is no longer waiting for me. When my days in the clubhouse are over. When I can no longer play this game. And that day is likely coming sooner than later.
So how do I deal with this? From my perspective, there are only two responses: anxiety or gratitude.
Anxiety is the natural reaction. When the future is uncertain, I want to take control, grip tighter, be the master of my destiny. My counselor describes anxiety as having "a focus on the future, but a vision for today." You are are so focused on the future, you lose sight of today.
When anxious, I focus on the fact my career is short, my abilities are limited, and my health is fragile. I focus on the fact that my sinker doesn't sink as much as I want it to, or that I can't command the strike zone like I should. I focus on the future I want but can't seem to create. In short, I focus on everything I shouldn't.
When my focus is on the uncertain future, my clarity for today's work is lost. I spend my days going through the motions. And when I put my head on my pillow every night, I am disappointed I'm not the player I want to be and haven't earned the opportunities I wish I had. Anxiety is a cycle that promotes fear and shame. And it requires perfection.
Gratitude on the other hand is wholly opposite of anxiety. It is having "a vision for the future, but a focus on today." It is an unnatural reminder to slow down and enjoy what I have.
While my career is short, I am thankful I still get to play. While my abilities are limited, I am thankful I am good enough to have a roster spot. While my health is fragile, I am thankful I can still compete. While my sinker and command could be better, I am thankful that I have coaches to help me improve.
Gratitude is a cycle that promotes joy. No longer are the simple and mundane things of life taken for granted. I get to enjoy putting on a jersey every day. Playing catch on the grass. Making jokes in the clubhouse. Competing whenever I get the ball. Winning. Losing. All of it.
Gratitude lets me focus on the little things I get to do every day, despite not knowing what the future holds.
So here I am, embarking on a new season. A season that will likely be my last. But it might not... And that's the point. The future is unknown and I can't control it.
But, I can choose how to respond to this uncertainty:
Will I let anxiety course through me, leading to fear and shame?
Or will I choose gratitude and experience joy?
The answer is obvious, but does not come naturally. And it isn't a one-time decision. I need to choose gratitude every single day. So I pray God will help me be thankful, reminding me of all the beautiful gifts I have today. Because today is all I have.
Welcome to 2023.
