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.
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