Untitled--Zachary

 

To watch a strong fortress crumble to dirt, to feel the grains of what was mighty, fall right through

your grasp, like sand in the ocean wind. To believe so much that this fortress shall stand tall, but

to feel it fall at the slightest of wind when it has seen tornados. To know all those that were

supported by the fortress felt failed. To understand such pain one would have to have something

in their life be constant. Be something such as breathing, then one must watch helplessly as

their breath goes away, with the air carrying it feeling no remorse. To feel your constant being

lost in a wind you thought was next to nothing, not even close to taking away what was so dear.

Many people have constants in their lives. Some see it as people, objects, activities, or even

attitudes. For me, that was sports, mainly baseball. My dad played till college, his brother played

in the independent leagues till he was 22, their dad played till college and the list goes on. As

one may conceive, I couldn't exactly be a tennis guy, so as time passed I was groomed to be a

baseball player, some have called it pressure but I always saw guidance, I never felt the

pressure of doing what I loved. From the age of 4, I played and I was as good as anyone else.

Over the years, however, I began to put my body through more, long toss before and after

games or practice, sprints afterward. By the time I was 12, I was the leader of the teams I

played for. I had the arm strength that coaches and I both knew was unrivaled. Starting

shortstop and the lead-off batter, playing third or pitching if I was asked. I would pitch upwards of

6 innings a weekend. However, at 12, I began to feel the negatives of my hard work. The pain

felt like punches to my elbow, as if someone would grab my tendons and pull as far as they

could, to cruelly let go and watch it rubber band into place. It felt like the earth was shaking but

only in my arm. People noticed I was losing power in both swing and throw. I told my Dad but he

wrote it off as soreness. But as time went on with stretches and exercises, the quakes

continued. The Friday of a tournament would be only slight discomfort, with the weekend ending

with a long drive home from Arizona, in writhing pain, games ending in 2 runs allowed, a double

and two singles, and 1 inning in the dugout trying not to cry. As I grew from 12 to 14 I was

approaching high school, and now, what was once something that made me proud, became

what made me ashamed, the idea of playing ball. My arm was done, I knew the feeling, the

strength was gone, I couldn’t even throw from my position to first without giving it my all, which

used to only require a half breath. My speed was gone, I ran lopsided out of fear of aggravating

my arm further. I was the runt of the team, I had felt like a leader for the first 8 years, I was on

top but the last years of my playing career were spent in the corner, sulking at memories of what

I was. This leads to the symptoms that looking back was like losing a loved one. I was

depressed and lost, I had nothing but baseball in my life, it made me happy, it gave me

confidence, and it distracted me from any of life's responsibilities. Without baseball, I lost my

source of happiness. From the beginning of freshman year to my quitting sophomore year, to

me still grieving the loss junior year. I was looking, doctor to doctor, to restore my happiness, to

restore my life. All I got was a constant cycle of not knowing what it was and being sent

somewhere else. That messes with a kid's mind. To lose a part of yourself and no one able to

help you find it. The takeaway I have now is if you love something you can make it work. I am

now semi-ambidextrous, I can throw left-handed, bowl left-handed, as well as draw, shave, and

do a bunch of other small things left-handed. I love baseball and just because any hope of the

next level is gone does not mean I have to give it up. Since the genuine end of my playing days,

I started coaching, first a few little league teams, and local all-star teams, then over the summer,

I worked at Alta Loma High School’s 2-month baseball camps. The other thing I learned was

that learning to lose something you love is a skill best learned early. Especially in high school I

have seen and met people who leave, girls, friends, and even some adults in my life all make it

clear they want to stay forever, but I watched them disappear into the ocean wind which

surrounds the tides of life and its unfair uncontrollable changes. It's a bittersweet feeling, a

reminder. To let yourself enjoy the now, to not hold on too tightly to those around you who wish

to leave. To enjoy what you have, you need to understand you will wake up one day and it will

be gone whether anyone can control it or you. I will admit those are some odd lessons to learn

from something such as no more baseball. But it was more than that to me, for a long time it

was me, it was who I was. I learned what I hope you will, to let things go and come as they may,

and to enjoy the time you have. And if you enjoy what you do, find a way to do it whether it's a

leap of faith or not.