I know that players, coaches, management, and fans enjoyed the season and had fun being part of a new, exciting team. However, more than that I believe that this season proved to be a great learning experience.
I would like to clarify that I am not using the term "learning experience" as a euphemism for a losing season that landed us in last place in the league and I surely don't wish to use the inaugural season factor as a scapegoat for our many losses. Actually, we had one of the most successful seasons out of any Valley League expansion team throughout the league's history, if not the most successful one, according to my reliable sources and all of the information the internet provided me with. Currently we have a record of 14 wins and 29 losses, which puts us four games behind Haymarket, the third place team in the North Division.
Again, I am not trying to make things sound better than they already are, but we lost a lot of close games, could not catch many breaks at all, and lost a number of crucial calls that could have turned games around for us. If we could have gotten some of those calls or had some of those close games fall in our favor, we could certainly be right in the playoff picture or at least above fifteen wins already.
However, looking back at all of our games, it seemed we were somewhat doomed to have a tough season and be dashed of any playoff hopes from the first game. We ended up losing that game to Haymarket 5-3 after the Express' Connor Madden was called out at home after the ball had popped right out of the catcher's mitt on a force play, quelling our 6th inning rally.
I think even the umpire knew this call was not right at all and it definitely proved to be the turning point of the game. This cost us our chance to tie the game by stranding three runners on base. It just seemed like we were not meant to win that game, and the same can be said for a number of other games.
To highlight some of the tougher losses, we ended up losing two games to walk-off hits, dropped a close one to Staunton in the 11th inning, were defeated with a go-ahead homer in the 9th at New Market, and Waynesboro took us down 4-3 on an overturned foul ball home run call. Also, we were ousted again by Waynesboro on a go-ahead hit in the 9th inning, had a 9th inning rally fall one run short versus Winchester, and our final out at our final Winchester game happened to be at home plate and would have tied the game at 6-6.
However, despite too many tough losses that left our season with some "what-ifs," we still have a lot to be proud of for a brand new expansion team. Even with so many close games, we pulled out fourteen great wins. The last expansion team was Rockbridge and they could only manage nine victories. In addition, we played a lot of good baseball, proved to every team in the league that we were equally talented, and did not quit. Sure, we knew fairly early that we would be left out of the playoff race, which could have prompted a lot of players to leave prematurely, but we have kept our guys and kept playing strong baseball in efforts to finish the summer positively and rack up as many wins as we can.
Our perseverance certainly paid off with a walk-off win to end our last home game as the inaugural Strasburg Express team against Haymarket, the team that beat us in our first home game as the inaugural squad. Only 15 (hopefully 15) wins out of 44 games, yet an extremely memorable, joyful and historical summer full of priceless memories.
Myself and my teammates surely realize the uniqueness of the situation and are quite grateful for the opportunity Strasburg provided us with this summer. We know that it was no easy task by a long shot to complete all of the necessary preparation work.
Only a handful of athletes get to be members of brand new teams, make history, and set the bar for future teams. We feel lucky to be the first group of players to represent Strasburg on baseball diamonds all across the valley. We may have shared more downs than ups, but my last hopes are that we all leave as better baseball players and better men and leave Valley League baseball to flourish for years to come in Strasburg.
]]>The U.S. women's soccer team, despite a thrilling and inspiring run through the tournament, dropped a hard-fought World Cup title to Japan. The NBA is in a lockout, which is causing a number of big name players to consider moving overseas to play. Also, I'm pretty sure just about everyone has grown weary of the constant updates on the state of the NFL lockout. I know how important the NFL season is to much of the American public from approximately September to February, but I do not think we need daily briefings on the progress on Sports Center. After something like 130 days of being in a lockout, the information seems to get repetitive, but that's just my opinion.
Thank goodness for baseball, is what I say.
I knocked on wood because I do not want to jinx anything and because baseball players are historically superstitious, but the MLB has been lockout free for 16 years now.
There is no better time to be a baseball fan. Derek Jeter blasted a homerun for his 3,000th hit. The Pittsburgh Pirates are in first place in the National League Central Division. Asdrubel Cabrera is somewhat of a human highlight reel this season. Also, the steroid era is pretty much in baseball's past, but we are still seeing amazing numbers and performances. Jose Bautista is crushing the baseball, Justin Verlander almost threw two no-hitters, and Jared Weaver has been posting a miniscule ERA all year. No matter what, the baseball season will be filled with spectacular games and moments, most of which are not worth missing and you never know when they might show up.
Even if the MLB happened to be in a lockout, there is still plenty of great baseball around. The College World Series offered us some of the best, most exciting games all year. It gave us some amazing walk-off wins, some great pitchers' duels (like two closers battling for five innings), and some incredible storylines overall.
Also, even though the old Rosenblatt will be missed, we got to witness this in a spectacular new stadium. Luckily for those in the Shenandoah Valley, there is the Valley Baseball League, which features some of the best talent in college baseball. Therefore, I implore everyone to make it out to as many VBL as they can before the season ends because the competition is always strong, the games are exciting, and if you happen to be in Strasburg, then the food is guaranteed good as well.
You can always count on baseball; they don't call it America's National Pastime for nothing. Baseball is inescapable in America, and that's beautiful.
Chances are, no matter where you live, there is a good place to watch baseball not too far away. It's always worthwhile to take the time to catch a game with family or friends because it's always guaranteed to be a joyful time. Whether it's the excitement of a big-time Major League game or a Little League game full of players who just play, a baseball game is a great place. It brings people together and always allows for good times to be shared, which is why I'm guessing the season is so long. As they say, you can never get enough of a good thing and baseball sure is one of the best things.
]]>Recently, a very tragic accident occurred at the Texas Rangers' ballpark in Arlington, Texas. During the second inning of a game on July 7, 2011, Ranger fan Shannon Stone lost his balance when stretching to catch a ball tossed by Ranger's centerfielder Josh Hamilton. Stone fell 20 feet to the concrete below. He remained conscious after impact long enough to call to the fans above urging them to take care of his 6-year-old son. His death was pronounced at the hospital before the game even ended.
This is truly a tragic event, especially since it happened at a baseball park, which are often regarded as nearly sacred places where no bad can happen. These beautiful places get to host America's National Pastime, which has been bringing people together and raising spirits for more than a century. Even more than that, going to a baseball game has been a quintessential American father-son bonding experience for scores of years. It just seems so impossible that something so heartbreaking could happen at such a pleasant place during such a great game. Baseball games are occasions of joy and events to look forward to, especially for a young boy and his father who had waited weeks for this game. Originally, the game had been postponed due to rain, so obviously the anticipation had really been growing. The young son had even purchased a new glove in hopes of snagging a ball.
Even though he did not experience as much emotional pain as the Stone family, Hamilton hurt too. He said he seemed to watch the fall in slow motion and could hardly fathom what had occurred. It's not easy having the accidental death of a young child's father weighing on one's mind, especially when it's caused by such a harmless, simple and common gesture. Hamilton was heavy hearted and left with the screams of the young son replaying in his mind, but he also said that "there's nothing I can do by not playing" and managed the courage to play the following day.
Oddly enough, a moment of pure exuberance occurred at another game that same night. In Cleveland, the bases were loaded in the bottom of the ninth with one out. The Indians trailed 4-1. Travis Hafner, the Cleveland Indians best power hitter, stepped up to the plate to face rookie left-handed reliever Luis Perez of the Toronto Blue Jays with one out. On the first pitch he saw from Perez, Hafner unleashed a furious swing that delivered the pitch deep into the right field bleachers. It was a walk-off grand slam that sent the Indians home as 5-4 winners that night. It is truly an unbelievable way to win a baseball game. Not often is the stage set to allow a walk-off grand slam and even when the opportunity arises, it is exceptionally difficult to capitalize on the circumstances in such a manner. Brooks Conrad actually accomplished the feat last year for the Braves, but other than those two, there have only been 23 other instances of walk-off grand slams, according to my research. Roger Connor was the first to do it back on Sept. 10, 1881.
It is amazing that a moment of such despair, quite possibly the saddest moment of the season, was coupled with such a rare, exciting phenomenon, possibly one of the highest moments of the season. I guess that is just the way of the world, unpredictable and nearly unbelievable. One players' potential greatest career moment may now always be associated with, or at least remembered alongside, one of the more tragic moments in baseball history and certainly the most tragic for that family. I guess that is also part of the allure of sports, tragedy and triumph together.
Whether it's the greatest victory, such as Hafner's heroics, or the impenetrable spirit of the 1980 U.S. men's hockey team that carried them to gold, the toughest loss, such as the loss of a great fan and father or losing the Super Bowl by a mere yard - just ask the Titans, you can always count on surreal victories and heartbreaking defeats. There will always be moments of great highs that untie and inspire people as well as moments of great lows that seemingly do the same.
When tragedy and triumph are tied together, you have the recipe for the most memorable and meaningful sports moments as well as a big reason for the pervasiveness of athletics in American culture. Some excellent examples that come to mind are those following 9/11. Mike Piazza of the New York Mets hit the first home run in the first game following the event, sparking great cheers and many tears. Also, baseball legend Jack Buck delivered an emotional speech during a pre-game patriotic ceremony in St. Louis, which probably brought everyone to tears. It may have lost some of its luster, but at the time it could not have been more powerful. Also, I may have only been 3 years old, but I am very aware of the power of Jimmy Valvano's 1993 ESPY speech. He was a sports icon and with that speech that cemented his legacy, he will be in the hearts of sports fans forever.
I would also like to point to that unforgettable track and field moment of the 1992 Olympics when Great Britain sprinter Derek Redmond, who seemed to have an injury curse, went down halfway through the 400-meter semi-finals. He attempted to hobble to the finish, but struggled. Luckily, his father came to his side and guided him to the end. The anguish and misery became apparent when he broke down on his father's shoulder. It was clear how emotionally invested Redmond was in this one race. However, one athlete's most tragic moment became defined by the triumph of love and the human spirit.
I know I have probably written too much, but I want to end on a baseball note. That would be Lou Gehrig, one the most influential and inspirational icons across all sports throughout history. He was a man of excellence, passion, and seemed to embody all things good, but was met with a tragic exit from this world. However, his legacy lives on stronger than ever. These are all triumphant characters who faced tragic moments and events, but approached them with great resolve, which made for meaningful, enduring memories that make us realize why sports are so very special to us.
Lou Gehrig's speech
Jack Buck's poem
Jimmy Valvano's speech
Derek Redmond
Considering that this is my first entry for nvdaily.com, I thought it would be best if I wrote about the lifestyle of a player on the Strasburg Express, as well as what it's like to be a member of a new team.
As players, most of our time here revolves around a fairly strict routine. On a basic level, that routine consists of waking up, eating, working out, eating, relaxing for a little while, going to the game, going back to our host homes, and repeating.
Even though such a fixed schedule would seem to be quite mundane, we manage to keep it more than bearable. Whether it's working out together or meeting for lunch before we head to the field, we make sure to plan some activities that keep our schedule a little less predictable and stringent. On multiple occasions some of us have met at Jalisco's Mexican Restaurant and Anthony's Pizza before driving to the field. Even after some games, players may meet at the always-open Denny's Restaurant before going to sleep and starting the process over again.
This lifestyle is repetitive and can be tough to maintain day in and day out, but luckily for us we have good team chemistry and enjoy spending time together off the field, which allows us to make this summer all the more fun.
Also, we sometimes find the need to entertain ourselves before, during, and after games and especially during weather delays. When the glow of iPods and Smart Phones becomes too much of a strain (or just lack battery power) we have turned to a number of different games.
A pre-game pastime is fungo golf, in which the players select a hole, which is usually a sign on the fence or a pole, and the player to hit it in the least amount of hits wins the hole. We use fungo bats and baseballs instead of clubs and golf balls.
On a couple of occasions we have also played Frisbee before batting practice begins. Some less-active games we play are Green Glass Door, the Stick Game, Destinations Game, and many more. During a couple rain delays, we actually played tic-tac-toe with the opposing team by drawing the board on a baseball and after we make our move, toss it over to their dugout so they could make theirs. If anyone would like more details about the variety of games we play, I would be more than happy to write another post about the most popular one's accompanied by some pictures and videos.
I will not deny that many of us shared a certain level of skepticism and hesitance about spending our summer in Strasburg, Va., in the Shenandoah Valley. With the exception of a few players, no one was very familiar with Strasburg before signing with the team, even players that come from in-state. Some guys had reservations about what their host families would be like, how far they would have to drive every day, what there would be to do, or if there would be good places to eat, among other concerns. Granted, some of these concerns are probably shared with all other players that spend their summers in collegiate baseball leagues around the country, but the fact that we would be playing for a brand new team seemed to amplify our worries and create some new ones.
Just like the first few days at a new school or a new job is generally the most stressful and nerve-wracking, so are the first few practices and games of a brand new team. Sure, the team had been created, but because the Express had not been established in the VBL like the other teams, there was a certain amount of uncertainty and unfamiliarity that loomed for a while. It raised questions such as: Will the community receive and accept us? Will they support us? Or wish we were never created? Will it be a good place to play and live? Will we have adequate equipment and facilities? Will anyone even come to our games?
Little did we know how awesome the community of Strasburg would be. Scores of locals volunteered to help install improvements at First Bank Park. Local businesses donated resources and sponsored us in order to see us start strong and remain strong. A wonderful mother-daughter-led team always ensures that we are well-nourished (many times pre- and post-game and even when the one road to the field is closed). Just as amazing as our food providers is our grounds crew, which is something most VBL teams cannot say they have. Also, we always have good crowds, even on the weekdays. It is a brilliant organization that is truly exceeding expectations.
So far Strasburg seems to love the Express, and the Express sure seem to love Strasburg, making the future of VBL baseball in Strasburg quite promising. Overall, we realize that it is pretty special to be part of an inaugural team that competes in such a prestigious league. It is pretty neat to be able to represent a great town like Strasburg, especially after all they have done for us.
Seeing as most of us have never been a member of an inaugural team, it is quite a different and unpredictable experience. For instance, due to struggles early in the season and a large number in the losses column, many VBL followers simply credited our lack of success to the fact that we were a first year expansion team. However, we actually have great talent playing in Strasburg this summer and have showed it more and more as the season has progressed. There are definitely certain expectations that other teams are not associated with since we are brand new and for the most part, they have been low. It can be quite a challenge to overcome such low expectations, but we have adjusted to playing on a new team and managed to continue to improve and play at a higher level than had been anticipated. It really helps when you have such a supportive group as the Strasburg community staying behind you, even when the losing streaks won't leave.
We are proud to be the first Strasburg team in VBL history and look forward to winning many more games, breaking more expectations, and setting a challenging goal for the next Express team to work toward.
]]>In only a few hours, thousands of high school and college-aged baseball players will have their lives completely changed. Tonight is the 2011 Major League Baseball Amateur Draft.
The MLB Draft is different than those of the other major American sports. In 2006, for example, the drafts for these respective sports were the following lengths:
The MLB Draft in 2006...50 rounds, 1,503 picks.
Why so many selections? Well, baseball is the only sport to have an extensive minor league system, where very few draft picks go straight from amateur baseball to the Major Leagues (only four players since 1990 have done so). Organizations draft players in order to put them into the minor leagues and develop them into the future Major League stars they hope to be.
There is also largely a lack of fanfare surrounding the Major League Draft. If you turn on ESPN during the months of March and April, you probably can't go more than five minutes without hearing about the NFL Draft (I like football, but it starts to get really annoying in my opinion). However, most people probably didn't even know that the MLB Draft kicked off tonight. This is most likely a result of the aforementioned fact that players do not go directly to the majors in most cases. The typical instant gratification that Americans are so fond of and used to (myself included, of course) isn't met in this scenario. Most people don't really care to know about the young men who are drafted and going to be sent to the small minor league stadiums around the country where they'll toil for a few years in hopes to get a shot at the big stage. It's just not that appealing.
But truth be told, it's a big deal for many, many people. 2009 and 2010 were revolutionary years in the MLB Draft ... each saw two of the greatest prospects to ever live get record-breaking signing bonuses and more hype than probably any other amateur player in the history of baseball. In 2009, Stephen Strasburg broke onto the scene out of San Diego State University and earned himself a $15 million signing bonus from the Washington Nationals. Six-feet, five inches and armed with a 100+mph fastball and a great curveball, Strasburg was a "can't miss" prospect. He burst onto the scene in the big leagues last summer after a brief stint in the minors and dominated ... until he blew out his elbow and got Tommy John Surgery (see my past blog post titled "From Mount Everest to Death Valley in the blink of an eye").
In the late summer of 2009, a 16 year old rising high school junior made the decision to get his GED, skip his last two years of high school and enroll in a junior college called the College of Southern Nevada. Nine months later, he was the most heralded hitting prospect in the nation, a 6'3" strapping left-handed swinger with incredible power. The Nationals drafted him once again first overall and signed him to a $10 million bonus. Last week, I took a drive to Hagerstown, Md., with my fellow Express teammate Trey Such to catch a minor league game. I videotaped that prospect's second at-bat on my phone and put it on the Internet... Watch it here.
This is an interesting time for amateur baseball. Most states are just finishing up their high school tournaments. The NCAA Division I Regionals have just finished up. Most collegiate wood bat summer leagues are just getting under way. And of course, as I mentioned, the draft is being held tonight (7 p.m. EDT June 6) through Wednesday.
Just as the college season comes winding to an end for most, the Valley League season has begun. While there are many distractions that deter onlookers from the VBL season (things such as the draft, the NCAA tournament, or high school state tournaments...Strasburg has advanced to the state quarterfinals and plays tomorrow night), many people still manage to come out to the parks throughout the valley in support of the college athletes who have come to town to play some ball.
Last Thursday, June 2, was the opening night for the Strasburg Express and there was a fabulous turnout. It seemed as if the entire town showed up to First Bank Park to commemorate the celebration of the opening night and to participate in the festivities. The pregame festivities consisted of a memorable appreciation of United States military veterans, and ended with the grandson of Jack Marsh, the former Secretary of the Army, throwing out the first pitch.
Today is an off-day, and most of us will be getting together and watching the draft on television before starting up again tomorrow night against Haymarket at home.
See you all at the park!
]]>If you spoke to me at this time last year, I wouldn't have expected to be living on a 300-acre hay farm overlooking a mountain in Toms Brook, Virginia, for an entire summer. I'd look at you like you had two heads.
I grew up just outside of New York City ... where people ride subways and work in skyscrapers. I'd never been on a four-wheeler, or went hunting, or river fishing, or rode a John Deere through the cornfields.
Well lo and behold, that's exactly where I am and what I'm doing.
I drove back to Oneonta to spend the beginning of Memorial Day weekend with my girlfriend and her family to celebrate her college graduation. She received a bachelor's degree in nursing and walked to get her diploma on Saturday afternoon. Sunday at 8 a.m., I crammed everything I had into my '99 Civic and headed west toward Binghamton. Then once I got to Binghamton, the GPS told me to make a right and get onto I-81 South and don't stop until I reached my destination.
I really had no expectations for my experience coming into Strasburg and playing in the Valley League. My main objective of the summer was to rehab my arm back into shape, and hopefully being on a field and actively participating with a talented group of guys will help me succeed in doing just that. I wanted to make new friends, meet new people, and get to learn the area that I'd be calling home for the next few months. Most of all, I wanted to completely maximize the pleasurable opportunity I have to play in my last official season of summer collegiate baseball.
Here's a short list of things I've learned since arriving into Strasburg, things that throw me off from my typical life I've become accustomed to:
1. Everyone owns at least one gun.
2. Everyone likes NASCAR.
3. There are bugs everywhere.
4. It's really hot.
5. You can see Signal Knob from just about anywhere in the valley.
Let's face facts. Life in the Shenandoah Valley is different than it is in Westchester County, New York. Gone is the hustle and bustle of the city, the high profile corporations and the busyness of the environment. Now, I don't even have to lock my car door at night.
I am thoroughly enjoying the change of pace and new environment that I have found myself in here in the valley. The area is absolutely beautiful. It provides a wide array of topography and a myriad of picturesque views. The town of Strasburg is a very pretty small town that avails its residents and visitors a large variety of opportunities for entertainment, whether it be a small shop, a corner store or a historical museum chronicling the town's lengthy and quite interesting history.
The one thing that has stuck out to me thus far is the tight-knit aspect of the community. Being that I grew up in a city in the New York Metropolitan Area, which has a population well into the tens of millions, I am not used to seeing so many people rally around local events. From a sporting perspective, New York has the Yankees, Mets, Giants, Jets, Knicks, Nets, Rangers, Islanders, Devils and Red Bulls all within an hour from each other as major professional sports teams. Combined with an enormous economic headquarters and a lot of other things, there isn't too much "town pride" as I call it.
I went to the Strasburg High School baseball game last night at First Bank Park to watch them compete in the Virginia state regional tournament and was completely blown away. The stands were almost completely full! Everyone was donning white or purple attire, and everyone was involved in cheering for the game and for the high school players. At my high school baseball games, the crowd consisted of some sets of parents and maybe a girlfriend or two. There was certainly no band of people from the surrounding area that came to cheer us on.
After speaking with several residents of Strasburg, I found out that this is the norm for all the local sports. Wrestling, football, basketball, volleyball... you name it, they have a fan base.
From this angle, I am extremely jealous. I wish I had this kind of support from my hometown, this kind of pure love for the place that I live and the happiness that it brings for people to come together and enjoy an event for a singular purpose. But it also excited me very much. For the next few months, I will be a temporary resident of this place, a surrogate fan if you will. I will be fully entrenched in the town's love and desire to seemingly be a singular family, and I am looking forward to it very much.
As a member of the Express, I am elated to be able to be a part of something that seems so special for the people of the town. A Valley League team seems to be an important thing to the town to have and to be a part of that is thrilling. I hope to see every one of you out at First Bank Park throughout the summer. Our first game is this Thursday night, June 2, at 7 p.m. I am looking forward to meeting as many people as I can during my visit, and very excited to start the season!
If you happen to be at the park or hanging out in town, I wear No. 31 for the Express. Please don't hesitate to come introduce yourself to me, as part of the pleasure I get from being a part of this team is the opportunity to create new relationships and friendships ... especially with the people that I now call my neighbors ... the extended family that is the town of Strasburg.
]]>1. Being a college student is a lot of work.
2. Holding a part-time job while you are a full-time college student is even more work.
3. Holding a part-time job while you are a full-time college student and playing an NCAA competitive sport is practically suicidal.
Well, welcome to my life.
Let's start with No. 1. A typical college workload consists of taking 15 credit hours per semester. This means that each week, a student is scheduled to be in class and learning for 15 hours. Generally speaking, professors suggest that for every hour you spend in class learning, you should spend two hours outside of class doing work for the learned material. For those who haven't experienced a collegiate environment this seems a bit much ... the inclination that one actually has the study material and the time to do something like this. In reality, there are some weeks where that amount of work isn't required. But the majority of the time, more is required. So let's say that it's safe to assume that the two hours outside of class rule is truthful and followed by the majority of students (I am no 4.0 student, but I would say most of my peers and I spend at least this much time studying and doing assignments). that equates to 30 hours of work outside of the classroom. Combined with the 15 hours in class...that's 45 hours a week. If you work a 9-5 job every Monday-Friday, you'd be five hours short of the time that is required of a typical college student weekly.
No. 2 is more of a personal preference and partially a necessity. Fortunately or unfortunately, I am not afforded the financial comfort that some people are, and I don't have the ability to attend college on my parent's dollar or live off what I've made over the summers (this will be explained later more in depth). Therefore, when I arrived on campus as a freshman, I thought that getting a job was a necessity. I work 12 hours a week in the basement of the library renting out laptops to students and filling printer paper. Sometimes I am able to pick up hours from other coworkers who request their shift be covered, but 12 hours is what I'm scheduled for every week. Added to the numbers in part one, that gives me a 57-hour week thus far.
No. 3 is far and away the biggest time commitment of all three responsibilities I mentioned. As a collegiate student athlete, I estimate that I devote 25 hours a week to baseball during the fall semester (the off-season) and 55 hours a week during the spring semester (in-season). This takes into account the extended amount of time involved in playing games and the frequency of practices in the spring, as well the amount of time spent traveling on buses/planes and nights spent in hotels. If I were to take the average time commitment I've estimated from the fall and spring semesters, it comes out to a cool 40 hours a week.
No. 1 - 45 hours
No. 2 - 12 hours
No. 3 - 40 hours
Total - 97 hours
I am not writing this to complain, nor am I writing this to brag about my ability to time manage. I am writing this to help you, the reader, try to get a glimpse of a typical life of a college baseball player. The Valley League season is coming close (Strasburg opening day: nine days!), and many of you will hopefully be enjoying America's pastime at the local ballpark as you watch these college baseball players perform nightly in front of you. The dedication that is involved in being a student athlete is seemingly impossible. It is a lifestyle commitment, a looming time that can make or break a person's future.
Summer collegiate wood bat leagues are a blessing for us in many ways. It enables us to do what we love ... play baseball ... every single day. It rids us of some of the other responsibilities our lives throw at us on a daily basis and rewards us, for a few months, for the hard work we've put in. It allows kids like me, a northerner from suburban New York City, to experience living in a new place, like rural northern Virginia, or coastal North Carolina where I played last summer. It avails us the opportunity to meet new people, make new friends, learn new cultures.
But summer wood bat leagues are tough on us as well. From the time the spring semester of 2010 started in mid-January until the end of July, I spent a total of 14 hours at home with my family. I skipped out on February break from school because we had practice, and missed spring break because we had games. I got home on May 23 from the NCAA tournament at 5 p.m. and hit the road at 7 a.m. on May 24 for Morehead City, N.C. I'd stay there until Aug. 7, when I went home for two more weeks before heading back up to school to assume my prior listed responsibilities until my next break ... a week for Thanksgiving.
A few days ago I was at my sister's high school softball game when I struck up a conversation with one of the parents of her opponent. They asked me why I do what I do ... why do I spend so much time away from home and "chasing a dream?" It was an innocent enough question. And the answer is a one-sentence, simplified answer that could be analyzed for days.
"Because I love it."
I encourage you to approach a baseball player in the Valley League this summer, or any other collegiate student athlete that you may come across and pose that question to them. "Why do you do what you do?" I can pretty much guarantee, with 100% confidence, that they will give you an answer that is some form of a variation of "because I love it."
The dedication and time commitment that is required in becoming a collegiate student athlete is immense and troublesome. It is as if you have two full-time jobs. The difficulty of a baseball player's inclination to leave his home life behind and travel to an unknown place with unknown people for an entire summer is questionable and at the surface, odd. But it is what we do. It is what we want to do, it is what we have done, and it is what we will continue to do.
The life of a college baseball player is rarely glamorous. Many people have had the opportunity to enjoy the jubilation of their favorite team winning an exciting game, or the agony of a tough loss. Not many people fully comprehend the going-ons behind the scenes of a college baseball player's life. When you turn on the television and watch U.Va. play on immaculate fields in front of thousands of crazy ACC baseball fans, it is beautiful at the surface. When you witness David, VCU, beat up on every Goliath in front of them en route to the Final Four, it is beautiful at the surface. When you have the opportunity to see Va. Tech football players drafted into the NFL every year after performing in front of tens of thousands of fans at Lane Stadium (three draft picks for the Hokies in '11), it is beautiful at the surface.
This is an invitation inside the other side of college athletics, the unpublicized, undocumented journey through final exams, morning practices and summers away from home. The glamour on display in all the specified examples above (my apologies if I failed to acknowledge your favorite team, or acknowledged your rival) comes with a price. A price few are willing to pay. It is a long winding road to success, and for some reason, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow always seems a lot bigger after the work ethic is carried out.
A friend of mine from Connecticut recently wrote a book that somewhat highlights the intricacies of the college baseball game and all that it comes with. He was fortunate enough to enjoy a four-year career at a Division I institution in New York, the very well-respected Binghamton University. It is very difficult to understand the time commitment that is required to compete at this level, but I believe he did so very well. For more information, I encourage all of you to visit the webpage for Ken Jacobi's new book, www.goingwiththepitch.com. It provides an in-depth look at some of the things I've discussed here, and provides real life examples of the four-year roller coaster that is college athletics.
So please, come out and watch some Valley League games this summer. Bring your family and friends, grab a hot dog and a Coke. Sit back and relax and enjoy the festivities in front of you. The entertainment fans get from the game is what is ultimately the most gratifying for the players, because all the hours of work that we have put in for all those years is finally starting to pay off. It is truly a fabulous aspect of America's pastime, a blue-collar game for the pleasure of those who desire it. And after all, that's why we do it..."Because I love it."
]]>On the afternoon of Thursday, May 15, 1941, the Yankees and the White Sox squared off in a fairly typical Major League Baseball regular season day game. In the wake of World War II, baseball had very much become an incredibly popular event for many Americans to enjoy as a nation. The starting pitcher for the White Sox, Eddie Smith, stifled the superstar lineup of the Yankees for that afternoon and ended up on the winning end of a lopsided 13-1 victory. Perhaps the biggest star on the Yankees' roster was their strapping 26-year-old centerfielder, the immensely talented Joe DiMaggio. That day, Joltin' Joe went 1 for 4 off of Smith, earning his only hit of the day in the first inning via a single.
For more than two months, from May 15 on, the Yankees played in 56 more games. And Joe-D had a hit in every single one of them. From May 15-July 16, there was not a single game that DiMaggio and the Yankees played that he did not reach base safely with a hit. During this streak, his batting average was .408; he hit 15 home runs and had 55 RBI. He faced four future Hall of Fame pitchers (Lefty Grove on May 25, Ted Lyons on July 13, Hal Newhouser on June 5 and June 22 and Bob Feller on June 2 and June 14).
Seventy years ago, on May 15, 1941, Joe DiMaggio hit safely in 56 consecutive games, a record that still hasn't been broken. As a matter of fact, no one has even come close to breaking it. The second longest hitting streak of all time is held by Pete Rose, who hit safely in 44 games in 1978 (not so ironically, Rose also holds the record for the most career hits with 4,256). Rose and DiMaggio are the only two players to ever have hitting streaks over 40 games. Here are some more facts:
I witnessed, just like most of the baseball-watching people in this country, Andre Ethier's hitting streak come to an end last week for the Dodgers. Ethier was on fire, and seemed to be able to hit every single pitch thrown at him, and hit it hard. It was very difficult to get him out. His streak was at 30 ... and would have had to continue for more than a month just to even come close to DiMaggio's.
Other records in baseball have been impressive and magical and thought to be "unbreakable." Babe Ruth hit 60 home runs in 1927, a feat unmatched until Roger Maris's 61 in 1961. However since 1998, that number has been surpassed six times by three different individuals (Sammy Sosa three times, Mark McGwire twice and Barry Bonds once), culminated by Barry Bonds' record 73 in 2001.
Seventy-three could be an unbreakable number, but it is a very young record and remains to be seen. The speculation of the "Steroid Era" combined with the present regularity in home runs causes me to believe that this number can be broken in the future (for all those Nats fans in the Valley who are reading this ... there's a pretty decent 18 year old in the minors that you guys drafted last year named Harper who can hit it a long way...).
Ted Williams hit .406 in 1941, and is the last player to hit .400 in a season in the Major Leagues. However, there were 27 other instances that a player hit over .400 prior to Williams's feat in '41. The closest since was Tony Gwynn's .394 in 1994, a season that was ended abruptly due to a strike. (Note: Prior to DiMaggio's 56, the longest hitting streak in history was Wee Willie Keeler's 44 consecutive games in 1897.)
For a single season, the most acknowledged hitting records are batting average, home runs and hits. In 2004, Ichiro Suzuki broke George Sisler's single-season hits record by recording 262 hits for the Seattle Mariners. However, none of these records, in my opinion, match up to DiMaggio's accomplishments. These records don't require 100 percent success day in and day out. Of course, these players are some of the most talented to ever play the game...but as Paul Molitor put it, "If you don't hit a home run, it's not like you don't have another chance tomorrow. But with a hitting streak, it's now or never. Every night."
In my eyes, the only record that comes close to Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hit streak is Cal Ripken Jr. The "Iron Man" shattered legendary Lou Gehrig's consecutive games played record by appearing in 2,632 over 17 seasons. This is an unbelievable feat (as was Gehrig's 2,130 games that was set 56 years before Ripken broke it). But it does not require Cal to be successful. Was he a great player? Absolutely. But he had hitless days, plenty of them. He had slumps, made errors, etc. It didn't require an incredible sense of focus and daily measure of success. Cal's accomplishment is one of baseball's greatest ever, but it's not Joe D's.
Seventy years ago, Joe DiMaggio began his hitting streak that lasted for 56 games. In history, no other Major League player has even completed 80 percent of this streak. In my opinion, this is the greatest single-season accomplishment in baseball. The man, 26 years old, played centerfield in the vast Yankee Stadium, in the heart of the media capital of the world. He was the best player on the best player in the league. He was the most popular player in the game, an American icon (Note: He was married to Marilyn Monroe during the 1950s). He was under the most excruciating spotlight there could have been, and he completed the accomplishment with grace and style. There have been many records set in the game, and some that have still yet to be broken (there are currently eight single season record that have been in tact for longer than DiMaggio's hit streak). But none have the magnitude, the enormity, the mystique that DiMaggio's does. None have the unbelievability. None have the requirement of daily successful consistency. None are quite as impressive.
I don't know who originally said that "records were meant to be broken." But whoever said that was maybe wrong. For the past 70 years, no one has really come close to The Yankee Clipper's record. And I don't see anyone doing it in the future either.
]]>As an 11 year old, I was diagnosed with a staph infection in my blood and spent some significant time in and out of the emergency room throughout four months of my life. I missed a good chunk of sixth grade and spent the majority of my time in an arcade down the hall from my hospital room.
At around 8:30 a.m. on a Tuesday morning during my hospital visit, my mother thought it would be a good idea to watch a movie. I had just discovered a liking for dramatic thrillers, and wanted to experience watching a "real movie" (being 11 years old, anything rated PG-13 and above was a big deal). She went to Blockbuster and rented a copy of Air Force One. Air Force Ones to me were a type of sneaker distributed by Nike, not an airplane that flew around the president of the United States. I didn't know the name of the man who starred in the movie was Harrison Ford, only that I'd seen him in Star Wars and Indiana Jones. And I had no clue that a movie about a Russian terrorist group hijacking the president's airplane would alter my life as much as it was about to.
A few scenes into the movie, someone knocked on the door to my room. A lady was there to delivery the daily newspaper, and explained to my mother that she might want to turn off the movie and turn on the news. Curious as to why the lady was so serious, Mom obliged. As she changed the channel to NBC, we watched as a camera from Jersey City panned across the sunny sky and watched a commercial airliner speed unusually low across the New York City skyline. Seconds later, the plane disappeared, exploding into a cloud of smoke, much like the one that the camera displayed right next to it.
It's been nearly 10 years since the newspaper lady at White Plains Hospital told my mom to turn off Air Force One and watch as United Airlines Flight 175 sped 600 miles per hour into the 80th story of the south tower of the World Trade Center. The disaster that ensued was surreal. 2,752 lives were lost in the crash on September 11, 2001, the largest non-military death toll in the history of the United States on American soil. Officials dug around the site that is now known as Ground Zero for weeks, scrounging up various body parts and materials from the fallen buildings. The physical massacre was enormous, and the emotional aftermath was indescribable.
The anger that I have toward those involved with the September 11 attacks will never subside. How could people be so cruel that they feel it is necessary to brutally kill thousands of innocent people? What did these victims do to deserve this punishment? How could these families ... the men, women and children who lost loved ones at the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, possibly continue to live happy lives after their well-being was gruesomely and abruptly taken from them by these tyrants? For years I have searched for an answer, a peaceful proposition. Trouble was- I couldn't find one. Not in the media, not in my friends, not in my heart. Not in my visits to firehouses around New York City that documented the brothers and sisters they had lost in the tragedy. Not in my visits to the 16-acre plot of land in downtown Manhattan that houses the Ground Zero monument for the thousands who perished. I just couldn't come to a personal justification, a satisfactory reason to cool my permanent anger just a bit.
I sat in my room on May 1, 2011, watching a movie when suddenly my friend's Facebook statuses began quickly changing, all having the same theme. I quickly turned to the news. CNN was reporting that they'd received word ... American troops had found Osama bin Laden, and he was dead. My heart sunk. The name Osama bin Laden had become a devilish term in my head, a person who I'd compared to Hitler or Mussolini. A person who'd become somewhat of a folklore, a ghost hiding in a mountainous land thousands of miles away. He was responsible for all those emotions over the last decade, and we couldn't find him.
President Barack Obama came onto the TV at 11:35 p.m. and delivered a 10 minute speech. It was true. Osama was dead. He was found in a mansion outside of the Pakistani capital of Islamabad and shot by a covert operation brought out by the Navy SEALS. His corpse had been covered in traditional Muslim attire and laid to rest at sea.
The death of an icon like Bin Laden brings about mixed emotions. For one, it provides an incredible sense of pride for my country. A man who'd caused so much hurt to myself and my people was finally caught and killed. I am proud to be able to say I am indirectly associated with the military personnel who have dedicated their lives to make ours safer...and done it with great levels of success. I feel proud to be able to see the relief and happiness displayed by the families of those that lost their lives on September 11, 2001. Yet at the same time, the angry emotions still come raging back to the forefront of my mind. Why? What is going to happen now? How do we recover? What do we do?
Much of the somber emotions surrounding the events that are associated with the notions of September 11 can be personified in a few events. Baseball has been a pleasant escape from the hardships of reality for nearly two centuries for millions of Americans. However, due to the events of September 11, the Major League Baseball season schedule had to be modified. In the days following the tragedy, no games were played.
In fact, the city of New York had been, for lack of better words, shut down in the days following the tragedy. Mayor Rudy Giuliani ensured that the city would remain a safe place, and security was excruciatingly tightened. It took 10 days for any professional sporting event to occur anywhere around the New York metro area. That game occurred on September 21, a baseball game between the Mets and the Braves.
The game was rather uneventful until the 8th inning, when Edgardo Alfonso of the Mets reached base against Braves' pitcher Steve Karsay. On an 0-1 pitch, Mets All-Star slugger Mike Piazza drove a fastball deep to left centerfield, off of the camera stand for a two-run home run, to give the Mets a 3-2 lead and what would be the game winning run. The place erupted. People jumped up and down and screamed and cheered and hugged and clapped. It was as if they'd found it, a nirvana-like peace. It was as if New York City breathed a sigh of relief, a load off the shoulders of the nation. It was the first time in 10 days that New York had something to smile about. As Mike Piazza crossed home plate, Shea Stadium burst into a chant of "USA, USA!" The game was halted for a long moment, as Steve Karsay stood on the mound and the rest of the players assumed a position of amazement, gazing around the stadium as tens of thousands of Americans joined together in jubilation.
After watching President Obama's speech on May 1, 2011, I turned on ESPN to watch an extra inning battle between the Phillies and Mets in Philadelphia. While hitters attempted to hit the sliders and changeups the pitchers from each team were throwing at them, the crowd quickly grew louder with each passing moment. It wasn't exactly a situation during the game that warranted cheers, yet they grew louder. Soon, the announcers grew quiet and the audio focused in on the stands at Citizens Bank Park. At that point, much of the stadium had received the news of Bin Laden's killing. And the same chant grew louder. "USA, USA!"
There are many different types of people who make up the 300 million-plus population in the United States of America. These people are all made of different DNA, different body parts. These people were all raised in different places, in different ways. These people all have different ideals, values and beliefs. But on the nights of September 21, 2001 and May 1, 2011, it seemed that the people of America recognized the one thing they do have in common: their nation. The pride and camaraderie displayed in Queens and in Philadelphia on those two nights are moments that will have a lasting impact on me, and will forever remain on my mind.
Today, I can comfortably say this: I am more proud to be an American than I have ever been.
YouTube: Piazza's Healing HR
]]>Baseball is a humbling sport. It is a sport that requires its participants to master the ability to rebound and progress through failure.
Last season, Major League baseball's season batting average was .257. That means that every single time someone stepped up to the plate, that player would record an out nearly 75 percent of the time. If a Major League player's batting average is above .300 (meaning that they make an out 70 percent of the time they have an at-bat), they are generally considered an All-Star and one of the best players in the game. If anyone knows of another profession that is willing to pay a hefty salary for a successful performance 3 out of every 10 attempts, please send me a direct e-mail and point me in the right direction of that employer.
As a pitcher, it is my job to ensure that the hitters I am facing remain as unsuccessful as possible. Hitting a baseball is considered arguably the most difficult thing to do in any sport, and it is my responsibility to make that a true statement when I am competing on the field. The ability to do so lies within the preparation one puts into their craft.
Throughout the offseason, I made it a point to make myself the best possible pitcher I could, both mentally and physically. I worked incredibly hard to perfect all aspects of my game and allow myself for the optimum levels of competing once the season rolled around. And frankly, I think I have been doing a pretty good job of it up until a few days ago.
I am a junior, and knew coming into the year that I'd be assuming a role in the starting rotation this year after two solid years in the bullpen. Coming into my start on Friday, April 22, I was undefeated and had an ERA of 1.44 through 50 innings pitched. Four of my wins came against teams that were nationally ranked or had been in the NCAA tournament last year. I'd had five starts and two relief appearances, and had never failed to pitch into the 8th inning in any of my starts (9 IP, 7 1/3 IP, 8 IP, 9 IP, 8 2/3 IP respectively).
The game on April 22 was a big one. We were tied for first place in our conference with the team that finished as the national runner-up last season. It was me against their ace, in what was supposed to be a 9-inning pitcher's duel at their place. The local media hyped the game up a bit, and the place was lively upon game time.
I felt great in the bullpen before the game, and great when I stepped on the mound for the bottom of the 1st. I never had as much confidence in myself and my ability to perform at any point in my life as I did going into that game. I KNEW I was going to pitch great. I KNEW my team was going to come out on top, one step closer to a conference championship. I was aware that this game probably had big implications on Conference Pitcher of the Year and All-America awards for each respective hurler. And I was loving every second of it.
I retired the first batter of the game and then surrendered a double to the two hitter. The third hitter worked the count full, and I came set with the intention to throw a curveball, hoping to backdoor a good hitter and buckle him for the second out of the inning. I took a look back at the runner leading off of 2nd base and lifted my leg to deliver the pitch home. My mechanics felt smooth and easy, just like I'd felt in all the pitches I had previously thrown throughout the entire season. I drove forward toward the plate and began the rapid descent down the mound. I positioned my fingers appropriately on top of the ball, getting the seams in alignment to get the maximum spin and break I could get on a curveball. I released the pitch just like I'd always released every other pitch.
And I heard an explosion.
I watched as the ball went behind the batter and trickled toward the backstop. Before I had the opportunity to react and attempt to take the customary action of a pitcher's responsibility to cover home plate on a wild pitch with a runner on second, I got dizzy. It felt as if someone cut my forearm from the rest of my arm. I fell to the ground in agony, holding what was left of my arm and trying to muster up enough courage to save face and stand up. The trainer, head coach, pitching coach, umpire and infielders were at my side in what seemed like a second. The trainer began to do some therapeutic stretching methods, but I knew deep down that nothing would help. I finally caught my breathe after about 30 seconds and walked off the field to a polite applause from the crowd.
I got in my parent's car that night, holding my head in my hands and quietly sobbing. What was left of my left arm ... which didn't feel like much of anything at that point ... was throbbing. I was headed to New York City, where an orthopedic surgeon would be scheduling an MRI to determine the fate of my baseball future.
I began drowning myself in the sorrows of my own self-pity. I figured that my career was pretty much over. This infamous "pop" that so many ballplayers spoke of happened to me. I just knew it. My ulnar collateral ligament - what held my elbow intact - was blown to pieces. I'd need an operation.
The first reconstruction of a UCL was performed in 1974 by Dr. Frank Jobe on a talented Major League left-handed pitcher who had elbow pain. This procedure became a success and no longer was known as UCL reconstruction, but rather took the name of the pitcher who'd received the operation. Today, it is famously known as "Tommy John Surgery."
Tommy John Surgery is a term that is synonymous with a career-threatening, monotonous, painful battle with physical therapists, surgeons and one's own mental toughness. The rehabilitation process for Tommy John generally takes a minimum of 10 months, but it is generally understood that pitchers take nearly two years to fully recover from the surgery if their rehab went appropriately. It truly is a life-changing procedure, and being a college pitcher with one year of eligibility left, it loomed like Godzilla in the face of my baseball career.
I spent the night of April 23 at a bar in my hometown of White Plains, N.Y., with my girlfriend and my best friend to commemorate what was supposed to be a great night in my life ... my 21st birthday. I sat at the barstool with hip-hop music blaring and people dancing all around me, attempting as best I could to resist the temptation to drown away the excruciating pain in my elbow with the "celebratory" free drinks that were being thrown my way. Once again, falling into a pit of emotional misery and nightmares.
I have had a huge range of emotions throughout the last five days. I left a puddle of tears in a locker room. I've thrown quite a few haymakers at the punching bag in the basement of my off campus house. I've engulfed myself in self-pity, and suffocated in the terror I feel. I've had dreams of walking through Times Square and seeing "TOMMY JOHN SURGERY. YOU'RE DONE" flashing on the big screen in front of me.
And then this afternoon, while I stood on the side of the field as I watched my team practice without me, my cell phone rang. It was the orthopedic surgeon. My MRI results were in.
After review, he claimed that he saw no conclusive evidence of a torn UCL. In fact, the UCL looked strong and healthy. There was a lot of inflammation and swelling, and a partial tear of a muscle called the flexor digitorum profundus, a muscle that is part of the forearm system that helps connect the elbow to the fingers. He proclaimed the injury is an acute injury and is incredibly painful and weakening (I responded with a sarcastic "Yeah, I'm aware," which caused him to chuckle). However, there is no surgical procedure required. In fact, what he described as "hardcore" physical therapy could get me back to the mound in as quickly as four weeks.
Unfortunately, it seems as if that ill-fated curveball last Friday is the last pitch I'll be throwing for the Oneonta State Red Dragons this spring. But the glimmer of hope just got a little brighter with the news. With proper rehab and work ethic, I'll still be able to don a Strasburg Express uniform this summer, with complete health. I'll still be able to enjoy the game that has given me so much pleasure throughout my life, without having a 4-inch scar on the inside of my elbow to tell a year's worth of a story. And God-willing, my health and enjoyment will stay with me into my senior season, and much further, and continue to carry me into many future endeavors of my life.
]]>After finding out that my team's game was cancelled yesterday, I decided to take it upon myself to make the afternoon a lazy one. After all, it is my spring break, and I feel a sense of cabin fever setting in being that I am confined to the city of Oneonta, N.Y., while my friends are enjoying their hometowns or various beaches around the world. But as Mother Nature strikes yet again and doesn't allow us to continue our spring season (she doesn't seem to enjoy letting us see sun up here too much), I decided to take advantage. I grabbed a snack, a cup of Arnold Palmer (if anyone meets me over the summer in Strasburg or any other town in the Valley League and shares an Arnold Palmer with me, I'll be your best friend...best drink in the world!) and sat on the couch to be a bum and watch TV all day.
Being rather one-dimensional in my television tastes, I took it upon myself to determine that C-SPAN wasn't really my cup of tea and quickly flipped to ESPN. I began watching a documentary on Carl Crawford, the newly signed Red Sox outfielder, and his life growing up in the slums of Houston. He was explaining that part of the success that he has been blessed with over the years started at an early age, when he had the opportunity to join a Little League team in a neighboring area of the city, outside of the largely low-class socioeconomic area he'd grown accustomed to. The predicament that had been brought upon him availed him to enjoy certain aspects of life that he said he'd not previously had...things like a two-story house, a front yard, and a comfortable set of trustworthy friends. He exclaimed that even today, as the Sox pay him $142 million to play balls off the Green Monster and steal bases at Fenway for the next seven years, the most memorable experiences of his baseball career are from his younger years, his Little League experience.
The Little League season is commemorated at an event in the end of August every year in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, called the Little League World Series. It truly is a "world" series in the truest sense of the word, hosting teams from every continent except Antarctica (note: Neither Africa or Australia has ever sent a team to the Little League World Series, although the opportunity for a team to qualify for the tournament is there for countries in the region). These games are broadcast on ESPN and ABC and viewed by millions all over the world. In fact, there have been several Major League players that have donned uniforms at a young age and had enough success to be fortunate enough to play in the LLWS. People like Jason Bay, Derek Bell, Charlie Hayes, Carney Lansford, Jason Marquis, Gary Sheffield, and Jason Varitek all won LLWS championships and have either won a Major League World Series ring or been awarded a nomination to a Major League All-Star team.
For those of you who have never watched the Little League World Series during those late weeks in August, I highly recommend it. Thousands of people show up to the event to cheer on the 12-year-old ballplayers in their quest for amateur baseball immortality. Like one would expect from a boy or girl that age, emotions run high. You can see them laughing, frowning, screaming and crying ... seemingly all at the same time. The competitive drive and team comeraderie that is evident in these players is unparalleled and is unbelievably enjoyable to witness. The physical talents and abilities on display for the few weeks is breathtaking.
Baseball, as some may know, is a game that can be highly emotional. I never had the level of success that those kids that make the trip to Williamsport have (could never seem to get past the state tournament). But Little League had a very similar effect on me as well. The comeraderie with your peers I noted that was so evident in the Williamsport tournament was also something that I was exposed to at these early ages, and has continued to assist me further into my life. The competitive nature that drove us to attempt to achieve those levels of success has also helped me to continue to strive for specific goals throughout different aspects of my life. And the roller coaster of emotions that is on display in Williamsport was also extremely apparent during my early playing days as well.
The first time I cried after a baseball game was when I was 10 years old. We'd won our district championship and advanced to the early stages of the New York state tournament, a single elimination round. We won our first game and headed on a road trip to Staten Island (a place I'd never been) to play. We were on a high, thinking we were going all the way and winning the championship. It was our destiny, and no one could step in our path and stop us. Except, of course, South Shore Little League. We got crushed by the bigger/faster/stronger kids on the Staten Island team. I sat in my mom's car after the game and cried. I wasn't upset because we'd lost...because I'd lost games before. And I wasn't upset that I would be losing contact with my teammates ... because my shortstop was coming over for a sleepover that night. I was crying because all of us, the kids that had been brought together to compete in that tournament, were cut short of our goal to win everything we could. And that upset me very much.
Last spring my college team lost in the semifinal game of the NCAA Division III New York Regional tournament, 6-5 in 11 innings. We were one win away from the College World Series, another magical championship that is so coveted by thousands of amateur players every year. I was just a sophomore, a relief pitcher on a team fit with upperclassmen and professional prospects. I had nothing to be ashamed of - I had pitched great, our team won more games than any other team in school history, and we gave it our all. But on the bus on the way back to campus, the realization hit me that this was, most likely, the last competitive baseball game the seniors on my team would ever play in their entire lives. And I cried my eyes out for about half the ride. We'd woken up for practice together before the sun rose. We'd sweated, bled, pushed each other until we couldn't do it anymore. Then we'd do it all over again the next day. We'd worked so hard as a team, as one singular unit, to achieve everything we'd wanted to achieve. We'd grown to love each other as family, and grown to love the game together as family. And suddenly, part of that family was being taken away. It was upsetting.
I feel blessed everyday to be fortunate enough to have the ability to call myself a college baseball player. The sport of baseball has done so much for me over the years and has truly been a focal point to help shape the person I am today. The passion and desire that baseball has helped me create started at a very young age, during the hours I spent at West Rumbrook Park in Elmsford, N.Y., during the 1990s. Baseball was Carl Crawford's escape from the life he didn't want to live. Baseball has been my entry into the life I'm living, the life I want to lead.
]]>While much of the Northeast is being burdened by nasty weather and storms, thousands of fans are still flocking to various stadiums around the country to watch their favorite ballplayers take the field once again. March 31, 2011 marks the 142nd Opening Day of professional baseball since the Cincinnati Red Stockings debuted on May 4, 1869. And since then, the game sure has changed. Today's attendance figures at games average in the tens of thousands, players make millions of dollars, and fans from all over the world tune in to watch "America's Pastime."
And yet I sit here looking out my window at snowflakes beginning to cover my car windshield.
I'm going to backtrack a bit to the word "pastime." It's a term that is thrown around pretty loosely, and is generally associated with baseball in the phrase I previously referred to. Princeton University defines "pastime" as: a diversion that occupies one's time and thoughts (usually pleasantly). The earliest known recollection of a baseball game being played in the United States was in Pittsfield, Mass., in 1791. Much like the nation that is just 15 years older than the game itself, baseball has progressed enormously during that first pickup game that was documented to be 80 yards away from the Pittsfield town center.
The game as I've experienced it is more than just a pickup game. I've been playing organized baseball since I was 5 years old, when the coaches (my father and his friends) would underhand the ball into us and we'd aimlessly whiff at the pitch in hopes to make contact. If we did, chances are we'd end up running the wrong way while the defense stopped picking flowers in the field long enough to haphazardly chase the ball. Sixteen years later, my dad is no longer pitching, and we no longer run to the wrong base (it does seem that the defense is still rather haphazard at times though). But we still play the game because of the pure enjoyment and pleasure we get out of its purity.
I am proud to call myself a college baseball player. Baseball has afforded me with many opportunities in life. I've had many triumphs and dealt with plenty of adversity through my baseball career. I've learned the art of time management. I've traveled the country playing in tournaments. I've made friendships that'll last a lifetime. To me, being a part of the game of baseball has become a way of life.
When I first received the offer to play for the newly formed Strasburg Express of the Valley League, I was elated. It's a new opportunity to meet new people, see new things, and play more great baseball. How fitting, as well, that I be playing in the beautiful and historic Shenandoah Valley, whose roots trace deeply entrenched into America's history. My school, Oneonta State College, lies just 20 miles away from Cooperstown...the "birthplace" of modern day baseball and the location of the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Baseball is, as I said, "America's pastime." The opportunity I've been given to experience a fabulous combination of the historical aspect of America and baseball I don't believe is a fortuitous act. The Express season opener is still two months away and yet I am looking forward to becoming apart of the franchise, fully entrenching myself into the Shenandoah Valley and enjoying everything that it so superbly brings to the table.
So consider this intial blog post as an introductory notion, albeit perhaps a bit of a history lesson as well (for everyone reading and myself included). I hope you all have enjoyed the opening of the 2011 MLB season as much as I have, and I hope that you all can find your way out to the park this summer for some Valley League games as well. For the next few months I'll stick to my games in upstate New York before turning the page to NoVa...that is, of course, if Mother Nature got the message.