Dear Tyler,
I came across a quote today that I
felt was appropriate to share with you….
“It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the
spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer,
filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come,
it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, you rely on it
to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies
alive, and then, just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it
stops.” -A. Bartlett Giamatti
Bart Giamatti was accurate. Baseball will break
your heart. But the Commissioner was only talking about the heartbreak a
fan feels upon the finish of a single season. For you, a ballplayer, heartbreak
is inevitable, and the more you love the game, the worse the pain will be.
I remember when you felt baseball
was the most important thing in life. Not one of the most
important things, the most important thing. At twelve years
old, you fancied yourself as a pretty good ballplayer. You were the star
pitcher for your team, and you weren’t too bad at the plate. Your fastball was decent and you were
known for “threading a needle” with your location even at a young age. Your hitting was consistent, with enough
power to (on rare occasions) get the ball over the fence. I remember you
wanting to go to practice an hour early because there was nothing else you’d rather
be doing. Playing ball was so important to you that we scheduled family vacations
around your baseball schedule…..and that was okay!
I remember you being anxious about
how high school ball tryouts. After all,
you hadn’t played with your Shenango classmates since you were nine years
old. You worried about if you would get
the chance to pitch or if you’d be on the bench most of the season. You knew that at this level, the game was
faster and the competition more intense. As it turns out, you held your
own during your high school years and became a top-notch pitcher in the
county.
You did well on your summer ball
teams too. It was sad when you decided
to stop traveling with the Cleveland team, but it all worked out. You made new friends in Youngstown and you
rose to the level of play that was expected in that league. Baseball life was
good!
Now you are faced with a new level
of play. Collegiate baseball is far
different than you, than we, expected. You
are dealing with a tough- in-your-face style of coaching that you aren’t used
to. You are learning how it feels to be
a “little fish in a big pond”. You are
trying to adapt to being a freshman reliever who will see limited innings as
opposed to being on the field every inning of every game. You have, unfortunately, already witnessed
heartbreak with players who quit or were cut.
Baseball will break your heart…..
I hear it in your voice sometimes
when you call. That sound of
defeat. That sound of feeling as though
you are getting passed over by the game you love so dearly. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you. All I know is that I want to fix it, to make
it better. To help bring back that love
of the game you once had. I know it’s
still there. More importantly, I don’t
want baseball to break your heart.
But unless something changes, that's
not going to happen. I keep telling you to have a good attitude, to just go out
and enjoy playing ball and to make the best of the chances you get. But deep
down, I know how hard it is for you.
I know that the game will tell you
when your fastball isn't fast enough; you aren’t hitting your corners well
enough; your fielding not good enough. Unfortunately, even a very good ballplayer spend most of his last season on the bench. If he doesn't, he quit playing too
soon. I know that sooner or later, your season on the bench will come, and the
game will ask you to leave. Your heart
will be broken, as will mine.
Keep in mind though, Tyler, that even
the greatest players are not immune. I think of Tony Gwynn, one of the
greatest hitters of all time. I think of him at age 40, with a place in the
Hall of Fame locked in, squeezing out one last season on bad knees; still able
to hit, but no longer able to run well enough to play regularly. Spending one last
season on the bench, watching his younger teammates play a young man's game.
Baseball will break your heart….
Remember, for all the joy there is
in playing baseball as a twelve-year-old, for any kid who really loves the game,
there is heartbreak ahead. That's how it goes when you love the game as much as
you do. You can hang on for as long as
you want, and I hope it’s at least for a few more years, but baseball will
eventually break your heart.
Why?
Because God created the sport with twelve-year-old boys in mind. And the older you get, the less the game
really wants you. Sooner or later, the bat is no longer quick enough, the
fastball is no longer overpowering enough, the legs no longer fast enough and
the hole in the needle you thread your pitches through gets smaller.
I love watching you play. You play the
game with passion and intensity. I’ve seen you stomp your foot in frustration
when you or a teammate make an error, and I’ve seen you celebrate wildly when a
run is scored for your team. But as much
as I enjoy watching you play and as much as I’m anticipating the start of this
season, I can’t help but to feel a sense of sadness. Sadness because I know you love the game and
you love to pitch and that means that someday your heart will be broken.
But it's worth it, Tyler. The joy of
the crack of the bat, the excitement of striking out the opponent’s big hitter,
the pleasure of hitting the corner with a good fastball, the satisfying
teamwork of a well-executed double play, the fun of being part of a team, all
make the unavoidable heartbreak worthwhile.
One of the best things to keep in
mind, Tyler, is that the game will let you come back. Come back to a pickup
game on a summer afternoon. Come back to sitting around the television with
your kids late at night (when you know they should already be in bed), watching
a team claw back from a three-run deficit in the ninth, and feeling that, for
just that moment, whether that team succeeds or not is the most important thing
in your world. Come back to the joy of teaching a child how to swing a bat or
how to make the throw to first. Come back, most of all, to the memories of when you were
a ballplayer, with an impossible dream that you didn't want to let die.
For now, though, enjoy the game,
Tyler. Love it like you did when you
were that twelve-year-old boy standing tall and proud on the mound. Being the “little fish” isn’t easy, but you
will grow to be the “big fish” again. I
know you will.
Have Fun…..do your best…and enjoy
your freshman season! Go Redhawks!
Love,
Mom
