Intrusive Thoughts #3 - Former Athlete

It's 11:07pm. I'm sitting on the couch in the house I grew up in watching two women I haven't heard of until this week play each other in a tight U.S. Open match. I woke up at 6:30am today, took maybe a 15 minute nap around 9:30am, and had a relatively good Saturday in my opinion. I  really should be ready to head upstairs, get a good night's sleep and enjoy not having to work in two days because of the long weekend. But I can't. Why can't I? Because I'm in a thought spiral (thank you John Green for naming that concept) regarding athletics. 

I played competitive sports from the time I was about 9 years old. For a while, I played baseball, hockey, and soccer until I decided that I needed to pick two of those sports to focus on and I was worst at soccer out of the three. I had varying levels of success in both baseball and hockey over the years. Nothing more than a district championship though for my town (baseball when I was 9, and hockey as a sophomore in high school). I also was part of a team that won a regional tournament, but I wasn't present for the final game, so it feels a little less like my accomplishment. 

I loved competing. I really did. I still love competing. For a while now, I've believed that what I missed about sports was competing. Maybe it's just because it's 11:15pm now, and I get really in my own thoughts at night, but I think that isn't entirely what I've been missing. As a kid, I dreamed of playing professional sports. That was all I wanted to do with my life. I didn't have any other ambitions of being anything else. When I was really young, I wondered what I would do if I had to choose between playing pro in hockey or baseball (yes I know very wishful thinking). Which accessories were cooler? Which uniforms were more fun to wear? I took into account all these ridiculous measures for a choice I didn't and would never have to make. 

I don't know when it happened exactly, but it became very clear at some point that if it were to happen, it was going to have to be baseball. I love baseball. Nothing else makes me feel the way baseball makes me feel. It became my dream to not only be a pro athlete, but to be a pro ballplayer. 

I was a good baseball player. I made all-star teams, I played on regional teams, I tried out for team U.S.A. even (I didn't make it far in the process at all, but it was still cool to be part of the process). From the age of 9, I was the best baseball player in my age group in the town. Maybe it was just that I was sheltered by that bubble, but that made me believe I really had a chance. 

As I got older, I continued to have success. Every team I played on, I batted in the middle of the order and was one of the go-to guys for run production. It didn't matter how many steps up I took, I kept playing well and earning a key role on every team I was on. I kept believing that despite the odds of playing for a Division 1 program, I had what it takes. I hit well off of guys who were committed to playing D1, I led some of my teams in batting average or RBI. I performed well at showcases (sometimes). I felt like I was doing well enough to at least get some looks. 

But I didn't really. I did get some looks, I guess, but nothing ever really happened with those schools. I don't really know why, I have my theories, my parents have their theories, but it just didn't work out for some reason. I figured I'd just have a good senior season, put up good numbers, and walk-on somewhere. I didn't play well. For the first time in my baseball career, I really struggled. I don't know why. If I had to make a guess, maybe I was putting too much pressure on myself. The fact is, I didn't play well. I tried out for my college team. I didn't make it. That was when I knew it was over. What I didn't know, was that it would be this difficult to move on.

What I didn't realize was that the dream I had when I was 4 years old and I wanted to play at Fenway Park for the Boston Red Sox like my heroes wasn't just going to go away because it wasn't possible anymore. That dream still hasn't gone away. That's what I miss most about playing sports. I miss having a dream that I was chasing. I miss the feeling of wanting something so viscerally that you don't even have to question why you want it. 

I still have goals. I still have things I want to accomplish. But those things aren't what I would consider dreams in the same way that being a pro athlete was. Those are things I want to do because I need to make a living, or because I need to figure out how to not drive myself crazy doing what I have to do to make a living. What would my dream job be now? I think my best answer when people ask me that is saying I'd like to be a writer. That's not because writing is what I absolutely love doing though; it's because I consider it to be probably better than the alternatives. 

There's nothing out there that I am in love with or am as interested in as I was with baseball. I'm obviously not oblivious to the fact that there's millions of dudes out there like me who have had their dreams crushed, which is why I don't understand why I can't just move on with my life. So many others have, so why can't I? Why is it that when I watch a team celebrate a championship, or I watch documentaries about guys who have had great success, it just fills me with sadness and regret that I didn't achieve my dreams, or that I never will?

I miss the sense of achievement I got from playing sports. I miss chasing my dream. I hate the feeling of knowing that I'll never be able to achieve it, that I had 18 years to chase it and I failed. It's been 3 years since I played my last competitive baseball game, and there hasn't been a single day since then that I've woken up and haven't wished I could have another chance. I just don't know how to move on from that.