Blog #10: My First Week As Head Coach

I need to wait until Wednesday to post this week's blog on my team because I do not want any of my players who happen to read it to misconstrue anything I have said before I address an issue at our next practice.

Blog #9: Following Up Part 2

I still have trouble with the day that I was two minutes late to a big start against our conference rivals in which I was benched. I am torn between the player and the coach within me. The player in me wants to believe that I was already at the ballpark for an hour getting stretched out and that I was just late getting from the training room to the field. Then there’s the other part of me that feels my head coach is 100% justified in his actions for acting upon my tardiness. In one of my earlier blogs, I specifically talk about this point of not letting your “star player” break the rules and the Fullerton coaching staff always followed through on giving consequences. The only reason I still hold on to this is because I know there were times my freshman year where this same thing happened, except my coach didn’t bench me. Whether your star player is performing at his best or at his worst, you must stay consistent with enforcing the rules. Sending mixed signals can be very detrimental to your team chemistry. Establish a set of rules and stick to them. Coach Garcia saw the earlier blog addressing this day I was late as making excuses. I take full responsibility for being late. If I knew that all it would have taken to be on time was to do one of my arm stretches on the field instead of in the training room, then that is exactly what I would have done. I guess there is still a part of me as the player that cannot let go of this day. It is just something that will take more time to completely liberate myself of any negative feelings. But as a coach, the first time that this happens I will address it accordingly at that moment, not wait until a year later when my player is in a slump and make him feel worse than he already is.

The day I left my team on a whim still has its consequences. I still do not talk with a good friend because he still has not forgiven me for leaving the team, and I do not blame him. One of the guys who was in the hotel room is still a close friend of mine. We have known each other since we were 7 and I am close with his entire family. He is now a coach at San Luis Obispo High School and is the greatest person I have ever known. It was easy to mend our relationship as he quickly forgave me after my sincere apology and seeing how distraught I was with my actions. My other roommate who was in the hotel room had taken a little more time to heal our friendship, however, it is still not nearly the same as how close we were our sophomore year. The following fall I went back up to San Luis Obispo for the first time to face a lot of my old teammates. I was able to mend most of the relationships, even breaking down in tears because of how difficult it was to face these guys and apologize. One of them really let me have it, and that was the hardest for me to hear. After I made amends with most of my teammates, I could finally sleep well at night knowing that about two- dozen guys will not despise me for the rest of their lives.

Blog #9: Following Up Part 1

Looking back at this appalling time in my life, my stomach still turns just thinking about the day when I became a quitter. My parents always tried to instill upon me that whenever you choose to start something, you finish it, especially when it comes to something as big as being a part of a college baseball team. I wanted to quit probably a month before, but my parents talked me into hanging in there for a few more weeks. However, something happened that day where I just snapped. I had hit my bottom. It couldn’t get much worse than the actions I displayed that day. Answering Coach Garcia’s first question… I feel badly about many things that happened that day and my entire sophomore year. It seems almost impossible to narrow it down to one thing specifically, but since the question was posed, I feel obligated to answer it. I’d have to say that bailing out on my team would trump all the other negative feelings I have toward my actions. It was almost expected that we would lose that Super Regional because how could any person perform at their best knowing that one of their team leaders abandoned them the day before. I cannot even imagine what each player felt after my sudden disappearance. As far as ripping up the jersey and writing on it, I must admit at the time I was almost in a different world. This despicable act came as a close second in what I felt bad about the most that day. It is hard enough to think about, let alone write about it to the world. I learned a lot about myself my sophomore year, needing to hit my bottom in order to rise to the top. It was inevitable since I grew up letting my emotions get the better of me. They utterly controlled me and this became the reason for my ultimate downfall. Growing up I was a very emotional kid and let things get to me very easily. This was not the first time by any means that I had a meltdown, but not to this extent. This significant time in my life eventually made me become aware of how my emotions were controlling my life. When someone is run by their emotions and goes through a lot of negative issues in life, eventually they will erupt like Mt. St. Helens. It is one thing to be in touch in with your emotions and be sensitive, but allowing them to completely take control usually lead to irrational thinking. I became very impulsive when I got to high school. I spent quite a bit of times speaking before completely thinking about it when it mattered most; not thinking of the consequences to my actions. I believe negative emotions should be dealt with on your own time; with your family and close friends or a therapist, not for the rest of the world to bare witness. People do not need to suffer from whatever is bothering you at that given moment. I have learned over the years that there is usually another underlying issue behind unnecessary squabbling between people.

“Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally. If I see you on the street and say, ‘Hey, you are stupid,’ without knowing you; it’s about me. If you take it personally, then perhaps you believe you are stupid. Maybe you are thinking to yourself, ‘How does he know? Is he clairvoyant, or can everybody see how stupid I am?’ You take it personally because you agree with whatever was said. As soon as you agree, the poison goes through you, and you are trapped in the dream of hell. What causes you to be trapped is what we call personal importance. Personal importance, or taking things personally, is the maximum expression of selfishness because we used to make the assumption that everything is about ‘me’. During the period of our education, or our domestication, we learn to take everything personally. We think we are responsible for everything. Me, me, me, always me!”

This was a passage from the book “The Four Agreements” written by Don Miguel Ruiz. This passage described me to a “T”. This book along with “The Secret”, “The Way of the Peaceful Warrior” and Ken Ravizza’s book “Heads Up Baseball: Playing the Game One Pitch at a Time” were a major part of what transformed my game and my life. It all came together slowly once I got to Fullerton, but it would not be until my senior year that I became the ultimate warrior. Now, how I got there… well, you’ll just have to keep on reading!

Back to the coaches questions… My head coach did play a role in this because of the lack of communication. I am not saying in any way that he was responsible for this. I take complete responsibility for my actions. But if I am speaking bluntly, (which is my goal in writing this blog) he lacked the necessary skills to be the complete coach. He is a very successful head coach but not untouchable, which is what every coach should strive to be. You will learn more later about how Coach Horton was a back- to- back National Coach of the year because he was a great communicator with his players. Every day he would have all his thoughts and plans for practice or notes he takes during the game to communicate everything he wanted to tell us. In my long career, I was yet to see such an organized and detailed way of doing things on the ball field. It was like the military. Why do you think it is that we have the best military in the entire world? How many state championships has my coach won? How often did we go to the final four? These are all valid questions in analyzing the teams I have been on. It is the only thing that I can base my knowledge of the game of baseball. I am not out to bash my coaches or “bite the hand that feeds me”. It is my confidence in my knowledge of this game that makes this a powerful blog. With that confidence, I am going to tell it as it is. If I had no confidence, then there would be no way on earth I would be able to write this blog. Over the course of the next few years, I am going to break down the game at a level that has yet to be seen by the 99% of people who play this game. So this is why I may seem to “bash” my coaches, but I hope that one day after reading the entire blog (being the case that they even read it) they will understand and perhaps learn a better mind set instead of playing the victim. After hearing this horrendous story, one would think that the odds of this kid ever becoming successful at baseball again would be impossible. There was only one way, and I happened to stumble upon it by mere chance.

What it all comes down to is that my head coach could have been a better communicator. I remember players talking about how it was hard to speak with him at times and I felt the same way, especially my sophomore year. It was fine my freshman year when everything was great and I was the guy; but when the going got rough for me and I couldn’t figure it out mentally or physically, a coach should be available on an emotional level to speak with his players about whatever problems may be occurring. My coach was simply not emotionally available. Any teacher should be able to connect with their student when the time is needed. At Fullerton, when I needed to vent with someone, it was my assistant coach and now head coach of Loyola Marymount Jason Gil. I eventually felt a connection with all of my coaches, but Gillie was the coach who recruited me and had to tell my entire story to before I would set foot on Goodwin Field. If it wasn’t for Coach Gil, I wouldn’t have even played my senior season, and we may not have made it to Omaha for the 15^th time, let alone make the playoffs, which would have been the first time in 16 years. After we lost our final game of the season against Long Beach St., I thought we were not going to make the playoffs as we had finished the season dreadfully ending in 5^th place in the Big West Conference. Thanks to a chat that Coach Gil had with me one day in the outfield during BP, I stayed for a second year and became the ultimate warrior, getting to play against my best friend in the College World Series, a game I will never forget.

Part 2… All will be back to normal, answering Coach Garcia’s two other questions on Thursday.

Still Working On It...

Sorry everybody but it's still not ready yet. I have been traveling all day and finally just had the chance to sit down in front of my computer. It will definitely be posted by Saturday morning.

Blog #9: Following Up Part 1

Yesterday on the 16^th of August, I went to my first Cubs game. All my life I have wanted to visit this baseball landmark, as I am not a fan of the Cubs, but a fan of baseball. Last year about this time, I made a trip to New York with my mom specifically to see the Mets and Yankee Stadiums before they closed. The Yankees game we were scheduled to see got rained out and they played a double header the next day. Today however, we would not be so lucky. The game was rained out and the make up game will not be until late September. As you can imagine, I, as the rest of my family, was very disappointed. I tell you this because I will not have my normal posting as scheduled for Monday and Thursday. I wanted this week’s blog to be special to follow up the last few, but I simply haven’t had the time to spend to write a quality posting. After last week’s blog, I got a response from a high school varsity coach asking follow up questions to the mind- blowing tales of my junior college career. This coach read my mind, asking pretty much the same questions that I was going to answer. Please stay tuned until Thursday so I can fully delve into these questions that I have been pondering over since this comment, and pretty much for the last four years. Here is what the varsity head coach said…

Hi Justin, 



Just wanted to let you know that I've been reading your blog and am extremely intrigued with what you have been writing. I am currently a Head Varsity Baseball Coach and have surprisingly found different areas of agreement among your blogs. Even though I have disagreed with some of what you have posted, I admire your aspiration and confidence towards one day becoming a successful baseball coach at some level. Before I ask my questions, I need to send one piece of advice your way: Don't bite the hand that fed you! I did not like the way you verbally bashed your ex-high school coach. Even though everything you said regarding that coach was probably very evident, you should of found a better way to describe your insight towards his coaching abilities and discipline. But I do acknowledge and appreciate your blog where you apologized if your words towards your ex-coach were misconstrued. 
Once again, I enjoy reading your blogs and look forward to hearing your suggestions and different philosophies regarding the rigorous game of baseball. 


#1. Looking back on the situation that occurred at the hotel that day, what do you feel bad about the most?


#2. Do you feel like you disrespected the game of baseball by ripping up your jersey and writing on it?(I only say that because that probably upset your head coach more than that assistant and your head coach sounded like he played no significant role in your ultimate meltdown)


#3. Now that you would like to be a high-end coach, I would like you to answer this question as if you are already that coach:
Do you think your coach should have benched you the day you were two minutes late? (I only ask this because while reading that blog, I got the impression that you were making excuses to why you were late. If you do become a successful coach one day, you'll quickly learn that there is absolutely no room for excuses) 


#4. Did you ever talk to those friends from the hotel room again? If so, did you feel the need to apologize? Did you even feel any remorse for acting out the way you did towards your "friends"?
Look forward to your upcoming blogs and good luck on your future endeavors. 



Coach Garcia

**In the coming weeks, I am changing my blog to a different site so I can include videos and a discussion forum for everyone to start getting more involve in discussing the mental aspects of baseball. I am also going to be putting together an email list to remind everyone when each blog is posted. I will let everyone know when this change will occur.

Blog #8: From Snowball to Avalanche Part 2

It was a long seven- hour bus ride from San Luis Obispo to San Diego. Before we checked into the hotel, we stopped by the Palomar Junior College ball field to analyze the grounds and see where we would be playing for the first time. I didn’t know it at the time, but when we left to check into the hotel, it’d be the last time I would ever step on that field again. I remember this vividly in particular after arriving at the hotel. We got off the bus, sorted out all of the bags, and received our room keys. I was staying with two of my actual roommates whom I was very close. It became a whole ordeal getting to our rooms with 25 anxious guys all trying to get on the single elevator at the same time. When the elevator came back down, I almost made it on, but there was only enough room for my two bags but not me. I asked my roommate to just kick them off at our floor and I was going to take the stairs. We only had a short period of time to get settled and back to the bus for a few hours of practice. I was very tired and not looking forward to practicing.

After cursing myself the whole way up the five flights of stairs, I turned the corner to find that my bags were not there. My heart began racing and a warm sensation overwhelmed my body. Fighting with every fiber of my being not to erupt, I made my way down every floor, finally finding them on the second floor. This time I took the elevator up to my room. Finally finding it, I kicked the door open, instantly firing accusations at my friends for their practical joke. I had been used to these types of pranks growing up,, but they had picked the wrong day. Except it wasn’t my teammates who were the perpetrators, it turned out to be Sweetness. As soon as I learned that it was my pitching coach pulling my chain, I snapped. The small snowball that began forming at the top of the mountain had eventually turned into an unstoppable avalanche. I had announced to my two teammates and close friends that I was quitting right then and there. One of them began getting disconcerted with my actions and verbal blows were flying everywhere. It was a very disturbing scene, as I began throwing lamps and even the phone. The phone inadvertently almost hit my friend. I had lost it. I had lost the desire to play the game I once loved. I had lost the will to continuously sacrifice my life and body for this sport.

I called my grandfather, who lived five minutes down the road, and asked him to pick me up. I was sitting on the curb waiting for my grandpa, watched my team drive by going to practice, when I got this sudden urge to rip up my jersey, write in permanent ink things that are inappropriate for this blog, and put it on my pitching coach’s windshield. My team would go on to lose a critical game in the best of three game series, which I would later find out my coach wanted me to start. We lost the series and to this day, I still feel guilty about letting my teammates and friends down, something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Just Wanted To Say...

      Last week I got a job with Central Texas Baseball Academy, a brand new indoor and outdoor facility right outside of Austin in Dripping Springs. I choose this job particularly because I am going to have the opportunity to coach my own tournament team, possibly two teams.  In the coming weeks, I will start to add blogs following my team and put to the test my skills as head coach of my own competitive ballclub. As I continue my story of how I was able to transform from a head case to a mentally sound competitor, you will also see how I will be able to take these same skills ingrained in me during my years at Fullerton and teach them to my young players. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for to fulfill any doubts some people may have about my credibility as a coach. 

Blog #8: From Snowball to Avalanche Part 1

       Following the embarrassment I put myself through, I was ousted from the starting rotation. It was all downhill from there. A few weeks later, our pitching coach “Sweetness”, as everyone called him, told me that he didn’t think it was a good idea to play on his summer ball team in Alaska. (I was planning to play outside of California during the summer if I didn’t get drafted and signed.) Sweetness asked me at the beginning of the season if I would pitch for his team. Now all of the sudden, he said it wasn’t such a good idea. His explanation for not wanting me to play was that he knew my grades were questionable to transfer to a D-1 and thought that I should stay in San Luis Obispo and do summer school. However, I thought that because of the recent slip in performance that he didn’t want me on his team. This caused instant tension. One day during practice, I was shagging BP while he was watching pitchers throw bullpens, and we got into a big fight because he wanted me to do some bitch work or something and I told him to have the “geek squad” do it for him. Sweetness yelled at me and then I told him to “f*** off”. It was a major low point in my career showing that much disrespect, especially in front of half the team. I was losing it slowly but surely. By the way, the “geek squad” was what the team referred to our two starting pitchers and closer. These three guys didn’t really party that much with the rest of the team and they always hung out together. During road trips, they would huddle around Sweetness in the front of the van and soak up his glory days in the minors.  It really agitated me while I would sit in the back and have to listen to it.

       A few days later, there was an incident with our other assistant coach, who would joke around but sometimes didn’t know when to stop. He said something that really got under my skin and I snapped. I went home that day after practice and seriously questioned my ability as a player and whether I wanted to put myself through that much agony to attempt to make it at the next level, which the chances of doing are incredibly tiny.  The week before playoffs, I had a talk with my head coach about my recent behavior and how my level of desire and commitment had fallen dramatically in the recent months. After working out some issues with him and talking it over with my parents, I decided to finish out the rest of the season and then figure out what I wanted to do. The opening round of the playoffs, I sat in the bullpen rotting away, and getting in my head even worse than ever. I couldn’t fathom how my dream of having the perfect season had slipped away in what seemed to be an instant. At the beginning of the season I had an amazing amount of confidence, just 4 months later, I had regressed all the way to the point of wanting to quit. This year however, we made it to the second round of playoffs, no help from me of course. The Super Regionals were being played in San Diego, and this time, the coach would need me for a critical start... 

Blog #7: Don't Look In the Stands Part 2

      After my freshman year, I played summer ball at home, playing in this league that I still don’t even know the name of, logging at least another 75 innings. I felt like I was consistently getting stronger, each start getting more dominating. Looking back at pictures of a trip I took to Costa Rica that summer, I was about 20 lbs lighter than I had been the last 4 years. This is probably why I was able to stay healthy while having poor posture and be able to throw over 150 innings. As soon as I gained another 15- 20 lbs, my back had no chance. After coming home from this trip, I pitched the opening playoff game, this time going a complete game (7 innings, we played double headers of 7 innings for whatever reason), striking out 15 and giving up 1 earned run. Even though this playoff game virtually meant nothing, I still felt like I had accomplished something because I didn’t want to blow it two playoff games in a row!! Except this time there wasn’t a car accident and thirty scouts in the stands. I pitched well that summer because I was just having fun. I was playing with childhood friends and it was very relaxing. I had just come home from the greatest trip ever and felt on top of the world.  There was no pressure. It isn’t until the pressure hits you that the mental game is needed at its most. 

      However my sophomore year wouldn’t be so fun. Coming back in the fall, I barely pitched again because of all the innings I threw and the coach wanted to give me a rest. But this time I wasn’t just lying on a futon in front of the T.V. all day. I was still able to work out which is pretty much all I did. I ended up gaining a solid ten lbs in a 4- month span and was confident I would hold the throne as the ace of the staff. This year however we had three other capable starters all of which either played at the next level or got drafted.  In the time that I did have to throw before the season commenced, it was good enough to be the opening day starter.  I don’t remember much about the beginning of the season except that I wasn’t throwing nearly as hard as I was the prior year. I was topping out at 88 and sitting between 84 and 87. Even though I was still effective, yet not as dominant, the scouts were turned away by the lack of velocity. It was very frustrating because I was working out harder than ever before. I carried this work ethic into the season, which would cause my ultimate demise. I even stopped partying all together, as I was motivated to make this the greatest season ever. Before the season I did an interview with the school newspaper where I stated the lofty goals in which I wanted to accomplish. But it wasn’t how I envisioned it at all. I didn’t even get a win until my fifth start and didn’t have the same stuff as my freshman year. Worst of all, I knew that my coach knew I wasn’t the same. It wasn’t until about half way through the season and the scouts were long gone, that I learned from the Oral Roberts head coach that my arm didn’t look as loose as it did the year before. After talking with the coach after the game, I stopped working out all together the next two weeks. The muscles in my arm had grown so rapidly in such a short span causing hypertension, which is the way to gain bulk. As a pitcher, this is the last thing you want. I had lost that natural whip- like action, which is how true velocity is created. After this two- week hiatus from working out, I had a start at home against our conference rival at the time, Oxnard. This was the game in which I wrote the second blog about. For all that don’t remember, I came out throwing 90- 92 and couldn’t buy a break, getting taken out of the game, without even recording an out. This game took a huge blow to my confidence level and it was all down hill from this point.  The second start after this game, I was pitching again at home versus none other than… you guessed it…Oxnard. I was ready to get my vengeance, except this time I wouldn’t even have the opportunity. My normal routine would be to go to the training room an hour before I needed to be at the field to get loose and stretched out by the trainer. I had the timing down to a T. It took me exactly one hour to do my normal warm up routine. This time however, I needed my groin to be wrapped because it was unusually bothering me. I remember looking down at my phone making the 200- yard walk from the training room to the field, and then looking up to find my head coach standing at the entrance pointing to his watch. I was exactly two minutes late, which was not what his watch said. His watch said that I was only one minute late!!! In the biggest start of my career, needing to redeem myself in order to remain the ace of the staff, my coach benched me. He might as well have just taken my heart and crushed it with his own bare hands. I snapped. I completely lost control, almost instantly breaking down as the coach turned around to go back to the field. I was sobbing outside the dugout for about an hour before one of my teammates convinced me to come back into the dugout. It was just as hard facing my teammates as missing this start because it was just plain embarrassing. One of our teams’ leaders just sitting outside the dugout crying while you are trying to get ready for a big game, it was pathetic. I could barely save face and being the weak person that I was, I just sat in the corner with my shades on for the entire game. After this incident, my teammates never looked at me the same. I became the team baby almost instantly. I had learned the hard way that being on time, meant being five minutes early. I would never be late to another baseball function again. 

Blog #7: Don't Look In the Stands Part 1

      It is the biggest start of my career thus far. I got the call to be the opening game starter in a one- game elimination playoff duel against L.A. Mission. Up until this point, I had obtained an advisor and scouts were telling me that I was going to be drafted between the 10^th and 15^th rounds. I pretty much had decided that I would sign if I received enough money to fall back on if I never made it. During the middle of the season, I began to completely blow off my studies because I was convinced that I wasn’t going back to school the following year.  So as I am pulling out of the parking lot of my apartment complex to go to the game, I get in an accident with the roommate of a girl I was seeing at the time. I was slowly backing out with a large van blocking my view, and this girl comes racing down and I didn’t see her. There was minimal damage to my car but I was completely rattled. She was flipping out and blaming the whole thing on me when in fact she was obviously speeding in a parking lot. This was the last thing I needed before the biggest game of my career. I later found out from a cop after witnessing the same accident that each person is responsible for his or her own damage. I told her that we would deal with it later and I got the hell out of there.  

       I was extremely nervous and had an abnormal amount of stress. Before the game started, I took a look into the stands (which I normally never did) to find almost every Major League organization represented to see our shortstop, the opponent’s star pitcher and centerfielder Eddie Baeza, and myself. There must have been almost 30 scouts there as Baeza was seeded to go in the top 2 rounds out of high school before he had Tommy John surgery. To make a long story short, we lost the game 8-2 and I didn’t make it out of the fourth inning. I ended up going 3.2 innings allowing 6 runs on 6 hits and 4 walks. My dreadful performance led my team to a critical loss ending any hopes of winning a state championship and only getting drafted in the 29^th round as a draft and follow. I received a few calls the first day of the draft asking if I would sign for $30,000, but that wasn’t enough to take me away from school as a freshman. The Texas Rangers ended up having exclusive rights to sign me for the following year and had up until a few weeks before the draft to make a deal. Most might think that I still had a very successful freshman season, but it quickly became a very disappointing one as my expectations became excessively elevated throughout the season. A little over 2 years before this time, I didn’t even think that a post high school career was possible. Now, I was disappointed that I got drafted in the 29^th round, a dream in which nearly every young ball player has growing up.

      Expectations are very powerful. They can control the way you interact and feel about nearly every situation. This especially holds true in the sport of baseball. My expectations in a period of two years went from not even expecting to play collegiate ball, to not expecting to start, let alone play as a freshman, playing only 2 games of fall ball, all the way to expecting to get drafted in the top 15 rounds. As scouts started chomping at the bit, all I heard was 10^th to 15^th round. Even my advisor fed me this crap. It got so built up in my head that it became the main focus for my season. Did I care if we won or lost…of course. But at the end of the day, it was all about my stats and getting the right amount of money. I wasn’t completely focused about getting better each day at practice (PROCESS ORIENTED). I was more worried about what round I was getting drafted in and how low my ERA was or how many wins I had (RESULTS ORIENTED). You will start to see that this is going to be one of the central themes of this blog and one of the big difference makers in having more consistent success. As a coach or player, your ultimate goal should be learning how to completely focus on the process of the game and getting better each and every day, rather than worrying so much about the end result. If the process is performed correctly, the results will come. I even remember being upset when I didn’t get the win one game where our reliever gave up the lead, but we still managed to come back and win. Because I did not get the win, it ruined what should have been a great day of baseball. Fast- forward two years to Fullerton… at the end of the day, the only thing that mattered was whether we won or lost. Even if I pitched poorly, but we still won, all that mattered is that we were one game closer to winning a National Championship. You will shortly see how my attitude transformed over a 1½ year period at Fullerton, from the selfish player I was at Cuesta, to that of being simply a competitive beast and only caring about winning.