The date was March 21, 2012. It was an absolutely gorgeous day—70 degrees without a single cloud in the sky. Most importantly, it was the end of the third and last day of freshman high school baseball tryouts—the moment that I had been anticipating ever since I started preparing for the tryouts in the dead cold of winter. The head coach was about to list off the roster, and there I was sitting up against the fence feeling confident that all my hard work was going to pay off. He started calling off the names of those who made the team, and I anxiously awaited to hear my name. However, that’s when a pandemic wiped me out. The head coach completed announcing the roster, and my name wasn’t one of the 13 that he riddled off. It felt like the end of the world. It felt like I survived an apocalypse and was now living in a post-apocalyptic world. As time went on, though, it turned out to be the perfect apocalypse.
Moments after not hearing my name called, I wasn’t really sure how to express my feelings. I just sat there staring at the ground. I found myself in states of denial and confusion. I pondered to myself; “Why would I get cut? All of the hard work just to be cut? I belong on the team.” There just seemed to be no answer. I took a couple months’ worth of lessons. I worked on my batting—I was making solid contact. I was pitching better than I ever had. I was succeeding, and I was filled with confidence and determination. Then the tryouts arrived to go along with three perfect summer-like afternoons of 70-degree sunshine filled days. The good weather made me feel extra confident because I’m not a fan of playing baseball in the cold. I was amongst a bunch of kids who played on travel and summer league teams, so at first, I was feeling unsure on how the tryouts were going to go. That unsureness quickly decimated as I had a great first two days. I felt like I belonged. Then, unfortunately, something I really hadn’t thought about happening took place. To not hear my name called was indescribable, except for hell-like, and I was puzzled as to why my dream of playing baseball in high school wasn’t going to become a reality. After all the preparation, I now had to accustom my lifestyle in a “post-apocalyptic” world.
Being cut from the team truly felt like I hit rock bottom. My “post-apocalyptic” life was just beginning, and I had to figure out how to make the best out of it instead of dwelling with the “woulda, coulda, and shouldas”. Luckily, however, coming from a Catholic background, my parents had the perfect remedy to cure this hellish state that I found myself in. My parents told me to keep in mind that “everything happens for a reason.” This simple motto changed my outlook on life after tryouts ended in failure entirely. I stopped being angry and upset. I started to live in the moment and accept the fact that it was time to move onto a new chapter of my life. That new chapter soon turned out to be the perfect apocalypse, one that no longer seemed hellish.
The date was March 22, 2012, just one short day after my dream of playing baseball in high school ended in a catastrophe. This was the day when the next chapter of my life started. Knowing that everything happens for a reason, I was filled with determination to make the next chapter of my life the best it possibly could. Instead of going home after school to play video games and do homework, I attended track practice with the high school’s spring track and field team. I never really ran before in my life, so I sort of felt out of place amongst a bunch of runners who had been running and were in a ton better shape than I was in. I chose to become a distance runner, and the first thing I had to do was run a timed mile. I never ran a mile before, so running four laps on the track seemed like it was going to take a long time. I ran a 7:03 mile, and I was so far behind my other teammates. However, I kept on going because I was too determined. I knew everything happens for a reason and there was a reason why God made me go out for the track team instead of being on the freshman baseball team.
Quite simply, going out for the spring track team has turned out to be the perfect apocalypse. I never would have imagined that I would see the successes that I have had with my running career when I attended my first ever practice the day after when I thought my world had fallen apart. A week after I ran my first ever timed mile, I ran in my first ever race which was in the mile. I was satisfied with my time of 6:04 as I nearly cut a minute off the time within a week. That’s when I truly fell in love with running. I started to really work hard and with the hard work, came the benefits. I became friends with a lot of my teammates who I’m still very close to today, my grades started to rise, and I was much happier and grateful with life. I was filled with confidence, and I started to feel thankful that I got cut from the baseball team. I even posted a Facebook status the week after my running career started, saying: “Not gonna lie, kinda happy that I didnt make the freshman baseball team. Track is where it's at!” Everyone around me complimented me on my resiliency to go out for the track team, as they knew my heart had been set on playing baseball. My response to their compliments was more often than not: “Everything happens for a reason.”
My love for running grew throughout my first season of spring track, and it grew so much that I wanted to give cross-country a try in the fall of my sophomore year. This is when my post-apocalyptic life after tryouts became the perfect apocalypse. Cross-country quickly became my favorite sport. In my first season of cross-country, I noticed that running long distances is something I love, especially when the runs offer beautiful scenery. That passion has stayed with me till this day. Running long distances is what drives me. It was difficult for me to stand out on my cross-country team in high school as my town breeds long distance runners, several of whom have gone on to major D1 schools with full-rides on either the cross-country or track teams. However, the difficulty that I found did not disrupt my love for running as I ran the majority of my high school career although I stopped running after the end of my senior year cross-country season to focus on my sports reporting career. I felt very fortunate that my new chapter of life was one that I loved—one that never would have happened if I didn’t hit rock bottom.
The fact I stopped running after my senior year cross-country season to focus on sports reporting plays a pivotal role into defining who I am today. I completely stopped running, and I thought that my running career had come to an end. That’s when another instance turned into one that I believe happened for a reason. I attended Pre-Orientation this past summer with fellow first-year Saint Mike’s students and several juniors and seniors. At the time, I still felt that my running career was over, but I held the notion that if I never stopped running, I would definitely be running here at Saint Michael’s on the cross-country team. I had the opportunity to tell the juniors and seniors my situation, and that’s when everything truly fell into place. One of the juniors roomed with a runner on the team, and the runner got my cell phone number. Within a week, he contacted me and explained that the team is very easy-going and supportive. These words were music to my ears, and I jumped on the opportunity as I emailed the head coach right away. I had changed my mind, and the coach was thrilled that I wanted to be a member of the team. I started to run again and yes, I was very out of shape, but I was filled with excitement that my running career was going to continue here at Saint Mike’s. I showed up to preseason on Aug. 23, a mere three weeks after I started training, and I have surprised myself. Coach Connelly is impressed with how committed I am to the team, and I feel a sense of belonging on the team. Deciding to be part of the Saint Michael’s cross-country team is the best decision that I have ever made. I love my team. I love being here. I love everything that my post-apocalyptic life has been.
Four years ago, I would have laughed at the thought of being a runner instead of a baseball player. I would have thought that playing a sport in college was far-fetched. I was so determined to be on that freshman baseball team. However, I experienced what rock bottom feels like and most importantly, what failure feels like. I know what life is like in a post-apocalyptic world. Fortunately, my sense of understanding that everything happens for a reason has made the apocalypse of getting cut from the baseball team into the perfect apocalypse. I’m truly blessed.
