I stepped into the batter’s box during a middle school baseball game to face off against a pitcher who was four years older than me and twice my size. I did not know it at the time, but that pitcher was about to shape my future by reshaping my face. I was a fifth grader playing up, he was an eighth grader, who had already pitched on the high school team, playing down. The difference in our physicality was almost comical, he had a mustache, I had...Fear.
The first pitch he threw sailed above the strike zone. (That was the first time I'd ever heard a baseball. The whizzing sound reminded me of an airsoft pellet.) After that pitch, I had no intentions of swinging. I went into survival mode. The very next pitch came out of his hand violently, whizzing though the air and coming straight for my head. Usually, a hitter turns away and dodges pitches up around their head, but in my fear something horrible happened…I froze. I remember the sound to this very day. The crack of my face being bludgeoned by a baseball. When I came to, I was on all fours watching a stream of blood fall from my face into the dirt beneath me. I was swept up by coaches who covered my face with a rag and helped to my father's truck. Plopped in the shotgun seat, I sat stunned as my father drove me to the hospital.
Halfway through the ride I pulled the rag away from my face, turned towards my father and said, “Is it broken?” He looked and accidentaly let out a chuckle, “Yes son…it is definitely broken.” I reached up to pull down the mirror, but my father quickly reached across stopping my hand, “Just…Don’t look.”
I had surgery later that week and, to this day, my nose is quite flat. Much like your favorite boxer.
Just a few years later, I found myself in a very similar situation. Facing off against a pitcher who was twice my size and several years my senior.
One day, a coach invited me to play up on 16u team for one tournament, I was only 14. My father agreed, but what we did not know was the tournament was 18u. I was about to play up, on a team that was playing up.
We arrived at the ballpark that sunny summer Saturday in Gallatin, Tennessee and immediately starting hearing rumors...The pitcher we were about to face had just graduated high school and was about to head off to some big college. Sure enough, a massive human went down the right field line to the bullpen and began tossing. At 14, I had not begun high school, this pitcher was already graduated. My body soon began to fill with anxieties.
The real story is WHERE DID THOSE ANXIETIES COME FROM…
I did not fear getting hit again…but rather, I was fearful that I may not succeed.
Let me explain,
Throughout my playing days, I often suffered from unrealistic expectations upon myself to CREATE OUTCOMES...
I wanted to hit a certain batting average. I wanted to have a certain amount of RBI's. And when I did not move towards those specific goals, I became DISCOURAGED.
At the heart of this discouragement, was a deep-seated need that I had to win the approval of others. As a young man, I wanted to be held in high regard by my teammates, my coaches, and specifically by my father. I sought to win the approval of others by trying to create those outcomes: Batting average, RBIs, status such as 3-hole hitter, or all-district performer.
I wanted a certain outcome.
Or rather, I EMOTIONALLY NEEDED CERTAIN OUTCOMES TO SUPPORT MY FRAGILE EGO.
If I went 1-4 in a game I was crushed, because I thought others would see me as a .250 hitter. When I went 2-3, I was over the moon because I thought others now saw me as a .667 hitter.
BUT, here are 3 FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS about baseball:
- It happens too fast to think. A player must REACT.
- It takes repetition upon repetition to commit movements to muscle memory so that they come out in-games.
- It is too unpredictable to control. And anyone who (emotionally) needs the certainty of a successful outcome IS DOOMED.
I learned these truths by going against them…A LONG TIME…
Now let's go back to that baseball game with the college pitcher and my fearful fourteen-year-old self….
I watched the pitcher throw in the bullpen and began to be filled with anxieties. I began to imagine myself failing in front of the team. My dad. I began to do what I always did:
I began to rehearse in my head my mechanics as an attempt to feel certain I would have a good outcome. I tried to FEEL control over the future.
BUT, my father said something to me that changed EVERYTHING…
Up until that point, my father would say things like, “You can do it. Go get em’. Just have fun.”
For me, those things had no effect. But on this day, just before I went to warm up, he and I had a brief interaction…He said,
“Chase, I remember that game when you got your nose broken...I felt so bad because that pitcher was so much older and bigger than you. This pitcher your facing is so much older than you. You’ve never even practiced hitting off that kind of velocity…If you're not comfortable with this, and you tell the coach you don't want to hit, I understand.”
NOW, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING!
“That’s soft!”
“Why would he encourage you to be scared?”
“Why would he voice doubts?”
But what he said had the opposite effect on me on this day. My demeanor changed immediately. I felt suddenly calm.
Here’s why…
I realized that my dad did not share the expectations I had on myself. I realized that my dad did not expect me to create any certain outcome. He acknowledged that what I was doing was very challenging. It wouldn’t even make sense to expect a 4-4 day. It’s as if he gave me permission to accept the possibility of failure. I no longer expected myself to be perfect. Of course, I did not tell the coach I was uncomfortable, I wanted to play.
But suddenly…
I WAS ALLOWED TO LET GO OF THE NEED TO PRODUCE AN OUTCOME.
I WAS RELEASED FROM TRYING TO CONTROL.
I ACCEPTED THAT THIS WAS A CHALLENGE.
When I stepped into the batter’s box for my first at-bat, the tall left-handed pitcher whipped a blistering fastball off the outside corner. It was faster than any pitch I'd seen up to that point but at the same time…
It looked like it was going in slow motion.
BECAUSE I WAS NOT TRYING TO PROJECT ONTO THE GAME WHAT MY EGO NEEDED, I WAS FREE TO SEE THINGS AS THEY WERE AND ADJUST. (Ball fast. Start sooner.)
My focus was on the pitcher.
I was simply reacting.
The pitcher went into his wind up a second time, his long arm unwound another fastball. It started on the inner third of the plate, drifted to the middle, and I absolutely peppered it into center field.
I stood on first base in the childlike bliss of baseball success.
When I look back on that experience, I see clearly why it helped so much that my father expressed concern. He acknowledged the reality of the challenge. This does not mean that I should quit. This does not mean that I should be scared. This means that I should accept that there is a challenge and then to go for it anyways.
Previously, situations where I was to be challenged threatened my ego deeply, but once I let my ego down and admitted the possibility of failure…it freed me to let go of control and go for it.
I hope this story highlights the dangers of an “outcome focus,” as well as reframes courage not as feeling invincible, but rather accepting threats without breaking stride. This is a function of deliberate practice and the creation of routines that a player can execute no matter their emotional state.
PLAYING BASEBALL WITH THE NEED TO CONTROL OUTCOMES DOES NOT WORK.
PLAYERS AND PARENTS THAT NEED CERTAINTY OF OUTCOME SLOWLY BEGIN TO HATE BASEBALL
HERES THE KEY:
Practice hard, and then let the game show you where you’re ready and where you’re not.
Whenever outcomes serve no other purpose but to validate your process or give you clues for adjustments…THERE IS NO FAILURE.
No need to control. It’s all practice anyway.
(BUT IF A PITCH IS COMING FOR YOUR FACE, DUCK!)