The Journey

There are two types of age to consider: biological or real age and developmental age; these two are very different. Real age is exactly that—how old a player is by his or her birth certificate. Developmental age is more of a guess, an inexact measure of a player’s age equivalence. The players who become early Division-I signees […]

I walked up to my dark blue locker, removed my hat and placed it next to my mitt in the top cubby. I pulled my white jersey over my head, and dropped it lazily onto the floor in a heap by my feet. As I wondered what the post-game spread was, I turned around to

As I walked along the brick ballpark fence, my maroon jacket slung over my shoulder, fans leaned over with their arms extended. It was early in the season and the stadium buzzed with excitement. Turning a tinge of orange, the sun had just decided that it would, in fact, set. Some days, I’d slap as

Little droplets of saliva spewed out as he rattled off more nonsense into the microphone. Just a few inches from his face, I stared up at his vacant, wobbly, drunken black eyes as I pulled furious breaths of air up through my nostrils. He was 6’3″ 250lbs — a solid 50lbs heavier than me — but I was confident

The duffle bag made a long journey, ending in a Dominican orphanage. It was a huge catchers’ gear bag, big enough to handle a bunch of bats, a full set of gear, jerseys, gloves, pants — all of it. On the end was the #8, proudly embroidered in white with a red border. The navy-blue bag was

At some point in my athletic career I learned it: No one cares why you didn’t. You said you could — that you’d execute and get it done. But, you didn’t. So own it and accept the blame. You earned it, don’t pass the blame to someone beside you or beneath you. Take total ownership, then go fix

“Hey Dan, I need to speak with you in my office.” I knew what that meant. I hadn’t been pitching well for a number of weeks, and we had just taken the bus back from Southern Maryland to our home ballpark in Long Island, New York. It was maybe 2am when we returned home from

Dear Athlete, I was you before I hung up my cleats and left my jersey hanging with a lonely drape in my locker. In the last decade, I’ve coached many like you. In doing so, I always seemed to take on an unofficial role as explainer of adult life. Growing up is hard, and I