"Ever since I was a little boy, all I ever wanted to do was play baseball,” said former Major League Baseball pitcher Tim Wakefield in 2012 as he announced his retirement from the league.

When Wakefield said these words back then, I could only think of how much I could relate.

My interest in baseball began in 2004. I was seven years old at the time. I remember it was on a Summer day when I was just strolling around the house and my father had a Boston Red Sox game on the television. The first thing I noticed was the player wearing #18 with the long hair and beard, and I asked my father what his name was. He said his name was Johnny Damon. He then went on to tell me that he didn't want to get a haircut. I don't remember how the conversation progressed from that point, but I do know that I continued watching the game for the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure the Red Sox won that game too.

Ever since that night, I began to watch every remaining game of the season. That man with the long hair and beard became my favorite player on the team; I liked him not only for his caveman appearance, but also for his unique batting stance and ability to run the bases. I quickly learned how much we Red Sox fans are supposed to hate the New York Yankees, and this was actually proven to me when I witnessed the Yankees sweeping the Red Sox in a three game series in New York. But what was even more memorable to me was the brawl between the two teams at Fenway Park that started when Bronson Arroyo hit Alex Rodriguez with a pitch. I got to know some of the other top players at the time, such as Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez, and David Ortiz.

Little did I know that my liking for America's pastime would begin during the same year that the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in 86 years, thus ending the so called "Curse of the Bambino." It seemed cliche to me that I would discover my interest in baseball during such a historic time period for the Red Sox. Unfortunately, I don't remember all of the postseason because a lot of the games went way past my bedtime at the time. But I remember what the newspapers read if I didn't get to watch the action. I remember the Sox sweeping the Anaheim Angels in the Division series. I remember them coming back from a 3-0 series deficit against the dreaded New York Yankees in the American League Championship series. Finally, I remember the team sweeping the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series.

I will never forget the year I discovered my love and passion.

The 2004 Red Sox were an inspiration to me. How, you ask? They inspired me to learn how to play the game. In fact, I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to be a professional baseball player.

I became so invested in the sport that my father began pitching wiffeballs to me in our driveway. We would play as often as we could, which was about three of four times a week.

In 2005, I joined a recreational baseball club. It wasn't a club where I would play in games. It was really batting practice, but this time, I was using an aluminum bat to hit actual baseballs while wearing a uniform. And when I wasn't batting, I was running after the balls hit way beyond me. I knew I wasn't having much fun because I just wanted to play competitive baseball, but I was only starting out small so that I would be more prepared to play in a league the next year.

I was more than ready.

The year was 2006 and I was nine years old. I was all signed up to play Junior Farm league baseball. I remember how excited I was. I was always the first one at each practice and game. For my first season as a player, I did not perform as well as I wanted to. It took some time for me to adjust to players pitching on the mound instead of an adult, who would just be lobbing the ball to me. There was also not a whole lot of performance in the field because if we are being real, kids like to bat more than they like to field. I'd be surprised if a ball was actually hit to me, and if it was, I would not be prepared.

Long story short, learning to play baseball was such a long process for me. Despite my struggles in my first year, I could never give up and my passion remained inside me. I credit this as the reason why I found more confidence in the following five seasons, when I progressed through the Cal Ripken and Babe Ruth leagues. I learned how to hit the ball, how to field a ground ball, how to pitch, and how to be a good sport. I had amazing coaches, some of whom I still speak with to this day. I loved the game more and more after each year, and the idea of working to become a professional baseball player just like Johnny Damon had continued to cross my mind.

Then came my high school years.

I was never in the leagues meant for better players. I was always in the "minor" leagues, but this never bothered me. I still loved the game, I could play, and I wanted a future out of it. I never thought that could stop me from trying out for high school baseball.

As a freshman, I made myself determined to earn a spot on a team. Even if that meant playing for the Junior Varsity team (my school did not have a Freshman team at the time), I wanted the opportunity to represent my school. During the Winter before my freshman season, I trained more than I ever had before. I was lifting weights, taking indoor batting practice, and doing conditioning exercises.

I earned a spot on the Junior Varsity team.

Of course, I was excited. I also had a coach who clearly loved the game and his job, so I wanted to show this man nothing but respect. Just like I did when I was nine years old, I was usually the first one to show up to practices and games. I was looking forward to playing in a more competitive environment. I felt that I deserved it.

But again, I did not have the experience I expected, and things went south.

I was not starting in games often. In fact, I did not play at all in at least five games. And when I did play, I was performing horribly. It was so embarrassing. Not to mention that I did not get along with a majority of my teammates, most of whom liked to joke around with me.

I wasn't ready to give up yet.

Despite my shaky start to my high school career, I wanted another chance. I continued to play in the Babe Ruth leagues and even played in a Summer league, where I found myself performing much better. I took some time off over the Fall, and then I went back to Winter workouts.

Again, I earned another spot on the Junior Varsity team and I was excited.

But that season, things took a turn for the worst.

The team had a new coach after the old one had to step down because of health issues. While I still somewhat liked this new skipper, it was clear he did not want to be where he was; he was an assistant coach at the Varsity level, and he had to take over the job as Junior Varsity coach, which seemed like something he was not up for. Nonetheless, this coach too did not see any potential in me, and frankly, my teammates did not either. It was once again a season of poor performances or no field time at all with teammates who had a knack for making fun of me nonstop.

It was already past my sophomore year of high school and I was not getting anywhere.

I began losing interest in the game.

I began to contemplate quitting the game after two high school seasons and never even making it to the Varsity level. Giving up, if you will.

After lots of thinking, I started to face a difficult reality: I was not going to grow out my hair and beard and play at Fenway Park just like my childhood idol, Johnny Damon.

Sure, you might tell me that I should never have given up. After all, giving up shows that you truly didn't want what you thought you wanted, right?

The truth is, becoming an amazing baseball player would have taken a lot more than I ever thought. I clearly was not working hard enough to improve. Simply going to Winter workouts and the batting cages was far from enough. It took me eight years to realize that you have to have an endless amount of commitment and dedication to the game to become a star, neither of which I had. Despite the unconditional love I gained for the game of baseball at the age of seven, I began to understand that I was not meant to be on the field with a professional team.

To this day, I still watch the Boston Red Sox. Over the years, I've watched them capture two more World Series titles. I even watch whatever Major League Baseball games are on Fox or ESPN. But for three years now, my playing days have been over, and I have found a new passion.

That passion is writing.

In September of last year, I began writing published articles for my college newspaper. Eight months later, I became the editor in chief for my school's branch of The Odyssey, and let me tell you, the experience has been nothing but rewarding.

I guess the moral of the story here is that it's okay if you lose interest in what was once a dream. They say that if you want it, you should go get it, to which I strongly agree. Work hard, give it everything you have, and sure enough, chances of earning what you want will be high. But if for any reason things do not work out, that's not a problem. There has to be something that interests you so much that you become good at it. Explore the world, try new things, and be humble.