It was a February afternoon in the “spring” of 2010 when I first felt baseball’s ultimate wrath. We were at West Georgia, minutes from the start of the final season opener of my baseball playing career. It was a day I had been both looking forward to and dreading for quite a long time, but there’s nothing in life that can prepare you for those moments. I walked down the line and felt that clean cut of my brand new cleats slicing through their freshly mowed grass. I walked past a few of my teammates that were still playing catch and soaked in the sound of their gloves, popping like gun shots every four or 5 seconds. I laid down in that outfield and never wanted to move again. I thought back through all of my favorite moments the game of baseball had given me, up to that point, and didn’t want to get any closer to that finish line. That smell, those noises, and that feeling are things that I’ll never be able to get out of my head, and I’m both thankful and disappointed to have experienced them.
It takes a grip on you at a very young age and you never truly realize how much of your life is consumed by it, until it’s all gone. The only moment that ever felt worse than the one I experienced on that West Georgia afternoon was later that season, at the end of the final game I ever played. I sat in the grass, in front of our dugout, willing to do anything for one more at bat. It took a couple coaches to get me off the field, to allow for the next team to begin warming up. These feeling never leave, and there’s nothing in life that could have prepared me to endure them.
As a coach, I try every year to warn my players of these moments and the things they are going to feel when that rush of emotion finally hits them like a sledge hammer. I know it’s impossible, but I give it my best shot.
Last week, I exchanged texts with a couple of guys that were seniors on our team last year and wasn’t shocked by the sentiments they shared. We talked about some of the best moments we had on the field and some of the worst, as well. We talked about the current team and what we need to do to get better. One of them, after I told him that it was weird, not writing his name on the lineup card anymore, said “Sucks, coach. I’ve never watched as much baseball as I do now. About broke down when you all left for South Carolina.” I reminded him of my fair warnings, which he acknowledged, but as I said previously….it’s impossible to simulate that feeling until that moment hits. As a coach, I feel the responsibility to give our players the opportunity to make memories and the awareness to savor them, along with every moment that comes attached.
We are currently down in Florida for seven days and six nights of nothing but baseball and teammates. Many memories will be made down here, while bringing a lot of guys closer to their last “hoorah.” The time will fly and the moments will vanish, and it will inevitably feel like “only yesterday” that we were pulling into the hotel parking lot. We will have fun, we will play hard, and I can only hope that we have put our guys in the best position possible to make the most of their opportunities on the field. Win or lose, we will attempt to play to a standard of excellence, which we expect ourselves to live up to, and that is what really matters. These types of experiences come and go more quickly than any of them could truly understand. But as one of their coaches, I will try like hell. So today and every day, we will attempt to seize each moment and make the most of what’s right in front of our face. This, and this alone, is the best way to make as many positive memories of this game and the experiences with our teammates as possible.
Adam Akin
Assistant Head Baseball Coach
Kentucky Wesleyan College
