Today I played catch with my son - I don't know when we'll do again what seemed so routine for so many years. Today I closed a circle which began almost 20 years ago teaching him to play catch. Today he left, driving across the country to his first foray into the "real" world; a real job, a career, bills, leases, sick leave, and the rest. Today baseball fades into the family rear view mirror.
I am writing this to give you the path we traveled - not to provide a roadmap which others can follow; rather to give the guideposts we used and which lead us to today.
Baseball gave S opportunities. Opportunities to push his limits - physically, mentally, emotionally. Baseball took a very introverted kid and forced him out of his comfort zone; took a small kid and taught him to complete with stronger, bigger and better. Taught him to win with grace and lose gracefully; taught him self-discipline; taught him how to prioritize, focus, and to compartmentalize; taught him that a failure in baseball is not a failure in life.
In short, baseball was a big foundation stone in who he is today.
But, as important as baseball was to his development, IMHO, it was the simultaneous family focus on filling up his intellectual potential which was even more important. So, it was a constant push-pull of baseball and academics - one never sacrificed for the other; both equal parts of the "contract."
(The path): S began with T-ball and progressed to local travel ball (around 10 years old), HS (small, private academically focused, baseball awful), college, summer college leagues, and into proball (senior single digit round budget pick).
He began pitching at 9 - mostly because he really wasn't anything more then a strictly average hitter and because he was left-handed. At EVERY stage he was never the best - just the kid who was good enough to constantly advance, improve, and compete at the next level.
We devoted our baseball budget to local travel (never went more than a four hour drive), lessons (both hitting and pitching, though hitting was a waste; both beginning when he was 9), and traveling the country going to MILB and college summer games. Once it became clear he had a chance to play college ball, he attended Stanford and Head First summer camps and also played scout baseball.
In HS (he began HS around 105 lbs and 5' 2") he began pitching lessons with the "guru" who kept him advancing. To us, the PC made the difference; so, one piece of advice is find the right PC.
Because S was never the "elite" player, our focus was always getting to the next level; from rec ball, all-star was the goal; then travel ball was the goal; then HS, etc. (And, yes, I particularly was the over-involved dad; taking time off to drag the field, watching practice, watching lessons. Yes, it was too much- but it never broke him.)
During our travels, we began visiting college campuses when he was 12. Got nothing out of the early visits; but, as familiarity set in, visiting campuses became very productive - his tastes changed over time from small towns to big cities, from warm weather to cold and back again, from schools with specific majors to not, from caring about the quality of baseball facilities to caring about the labs. But every visit was simply laying another brick in the wall - allowing him to internalize what he cared about. Simultaneously, the family constantly discussed college - costs, majors, size, etc.
He finished his standardized testing in September of junior year and the results dove-tailed with his grades. His course cirriculum was the school's most rigorous - and his AP scores also matched his grades. (Now, there is no question, we were lucky - the kid has a brain and a love of reading. But, we were very aware of his education; we had contact with his teachers, had an on-line method to check his progress, and never cut him slack,)
His velo advanced from 70 mph in ninth grade to 90 as a senior. He grew and was 5' 10" and 140 lbs at graduation. Scout ball had attracted pro attention along the way. He turned down a 100% offer (baseball and academic) to the local D1 power (a great decision since his college career was mostly a disaster and he would have been cut after year one). As a result of HF and Stanford, he had dozens of calls with D3s and mid-level D1s.
Alomg the way, mom and dad decided to "build the box" of what we considered acceptable colleges and let him select from within the box. He agreed to that approach. As a result, we were all on the same page - a huge positive because the recruiting process is pretty stressful.
He OVed three schools (September, three consecutive weekends). All in the same conference; all high academics; each very different; any would have been a great choice. He chose the program M and D liked least; turns out it was the exact right choice for him. His coach was a life - not a baseball specific - mentor; and only he could detect those vibes during recruiting. After watching college ball for so many years, I now know that this coach had the patience and touch to allow him to develop at his own pace. (As an aside, because he matriculated, his sister was given a sibling designation during admissions which put her over the top and will graduate next year with full time employment in place already from the same college.)
He attended a college across the country - no way mom and dad could watch the painful maturation process (whew); weather was awful; baseball was not a priority. His major changed several times; but, the school he chose has no easy majors and he settled on economics. Finished dead middle of the class - a good result (through M and D had to lower expectations which were wildly inflated).
One curve we dealt with was that he was drafted out of HS. While we had home visits, actually getting drafted was a wrinkle to be dealt with. The college would not allow him to delay matriculation beyond two years and we would not allow him to forego leveraging his baseball into a internationally renown college. So, he priced himself out of the market. (In hindsight, the smart move.)
College baseball was - mostly - a disaster. He set school records for wild pitches and walks (both season, game and inning records); last game junior year he was left off the travel squad. On the bright side were strikeouts - lots per inning. He played Northwoods after freshman year and made their post-season all-star team and lead the league in strikeouts; he played in the Cape second season and was probably the worst player in the league. By the end of junior year, the dream to play at the next level was over and he got himself a job as intern-economist at MLB NY.
BUT, despite the baseball challenges, he grew and matured; had a robust group of athlete and non-athlete friends, and learned economics. His baseball struggles did not impact his identity.
Beginning senior year, he interviewed and received lots of offers and accepted a job as a consultant with an international company. He was ready for the real world.
Lightning in a bottle was captured senior year; turns out, with all pressure to perform gone, baseball can be fun. Wildness disappeared, he lead the NCAA in a major strikeout category, and was drafted.
His pro career was the same ups and downs. Lots of walks, wild pitches and strikeouts. He worked is butt off in the off seasons, and was unable to get over the control hump. I could write a novel about his pro experience (and the stress M and D felt every game); but let's say since he was never a true prospect, there was no time or attention paid to getting him over the hump (true prospects are given every opportunity to get over that hump).
He had always expressed that as soon as he felt he couldn't advance, he would retire. (IMO, that was a real issue - if you're planning an exit strategy, you're not "all in." And a player must be all in - the competition certainly is!)
So, when he reported for his last ST, he was throwing the best he's ever thrown. Sitting 92, touching 94. But, the organization didn't like his tweaked delivery (he had simplified the delivery to have fewer moving parts and loved the result; but the club PCs hated it and told him that on his first ST bull pen). Didn't make it out of extended for a month - and recognized the handwriting on the wall. (Once the handwriting was recognized, the fun of the game evaporated.) On top of that the organization was on its third minor league PC in three years - each with a different philosophy- and had totally eliminated the role he had been told was his.
After several release requests were turned down (he could retire but would've needed to repay a significant portion of his bonus which had been spent for food and other expenses), his final outing pushed the club over the edge, and poof it was done. No tears; no teeth knashing; turned down multiple affiliated and Indy offers following the release and came home. He burnished his resume, contacted the company which hired him before the draft, had tons of interviews and wound up accepting the original company offer in a city of his choice. The interviews inevitably revolved around his baseball experience - the time spent playing (and not interning or otherwise working) was a huge positive during the job hunt.
Imo, the best decision we made was leveraging baseball into a school he would otherwise not have been admitted. That decision lead to a school which offered athletes legit, substantial, meaty majors, was a job factory with a huge alumni network, and which prepared him for the next 40 years. It allowed him to have his cake and eat it too.
So, today I played my last game of catch. And, as I waved to him as he drove off, there is an equal mixture of pride, satisfaction, happiness and sadness. Boy, did I love the last catch.
Sorry for the length, but it's cathartic!
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