As a kid, I’d spend hours upon hours throwing the ball around, hitting self-tossed baseballs back and forth from one side of the yard to the other and traveling to games across the state and the Midwest. I recall most evenings when I was young, where I'd sit on our front porch, my glove and a bat laid to my side, while I was decked out in a full uniform of whatever homemade jersey I had my mom make up for me. I’d wait patiently for my dad to get home from work so I could swarm him and ask him to hit me balls or catch a bullpen until it would get too dark to see. I wouldn't even let him go inside to say hi to my mom or sister. I wanted to play and by God, I was ready to go right then. He never complained and was always up for it. Baseball was my life and I will humbly say, I was good at it. It just came natural for me. At night, I'd lay in my bed and dream of playing for the New York Yankees. I just loved those pinstripes. As my baseball career progressed, I developed a knack for pitching. I was tall, lanky and most importantly; left-handed. You see, being a lefty is a big advantage as a pitcher. Most lefties have a lot of natural movement on their ball and frankly, you just don't see as many left-handers as you do right-handers. Most hitters I knew didn't like hitting off of lefties either. We're just weird! I grew a passion and obsession for pitching.
What I love about pitching is the loneliness. Yes, you read that right. Most people only associate loneliness with negative connotations as if it’s not okay to be alone. I think society has been pushed in a direction where it’s almost frowned upon to prefer being by one’s self. We must be social, network with others and be a part of the “crowd”. I believe this is the case because most people fear the thought of being alone. Few can handle the isolation, the quiet, and the self-reliance it takes to accomplish things while being all by yourself. With pitching though, I had a fondness for the idea of being all by myself on top of the mound. It brought about a pressure to perform at my best. Each outing, gave me the opportunity test my metal and see what I was made of. However, as a pitcher, you're either the hero or the zero. There is no in between. Striking out the side or getting that much needed double play ball puts you at the top. Allowing a run to score or a giving up a monster home run throws you right back down to the bottom. There is always highs and lows. As a pitcher, I was able to earn a scholarship to play in college after my high school years. Baseball took me many places, allowed me to meet many people and taught me life lessons I continue to use to this day. Unfortunately, all things must come to an end. My baseball career was over in 2017, after graduating from college. Luckily, I have another passion that I was able to fill that void that baseball once held; hunting.
Throughout my life, if I wasn’t playing ball, you could find me in the woods chasing deer, squirrels or birds, pretending to be a mountain man exploring the vastness of the American West. Even though, I’ve hunted all my life, I never really thought of it as much more than a hobby that I greatly enjoyed. My dad also shared a love for hunting and other outdoor pursuits. We used to joke about if we had to pick one, hunting or baseball, which would we pick? It was always a tough question and thinking about it now, I can't say either of us really ever provided an answer. It wasn't until my baseball career ended that I realized just how important hunting was to me. I’ve now realized that baseball and hunting have quite a lot in common. Like baseball once was, hunting became an obsession.
There are great parallels in baseball and hunting. Back in college, I'd throw a bullpen every couple of days leading up to a game I'd be the starter for. The days in between were spent throwing "flat-grounds", less intense bullpens off of flat ground instead of a mound, getting a good feel for all of my pitches. If I wasn't throwing, I was running. A few miles a day usually. This routine really hasn't changed a whole lot even to this day. I traded baseballs for arrows and my glove for a bow. I shoot arrows almost every day leading up to hunts and still continue to keep my body in shape. I recall days last summer where I'd shoot two hundred arrows in an evening, striving for perfection with each shot. It may sound odd but shooting my bow is just another bullpen session for me. Each shot, I burn a hole in my target with my eyes, just as I did with the catcher’s mitt before executing the pitch. Good form is key, focusing on your target is a must and having the upmost confidence in the pitch, now the shot, is imperative. That desire for success has not left me.
Instead of trotting out to the pitching mound, I head for a tree stand. I am no longer throwing a baseball exactly where I want it to go but placing an arrow perfectly into the vitals of my desired target. Like being alone on the mound, I prefer being alone while I hunt. The thoughts of everyday life escape me and I allow myself to focus on the present pursuit. I enjoy the pressures of getting the job done by myself. The joy of throwing a great game has been exchanged for the pride of providing food to nourish me and my loved ones. But in hunting, much like baseball, we cannot always have success. Baseball is a game of failure. Those who are successful 30% of time are considered great, some even considered legends. Hunting is the same way. There won’t always be success. There will be outside factors that cannot be controlled. Like a shortstop booting a ball that would end the inning, some outings in the woods will lead to disappointment. The deer come in downwind, the ducks land just out of range, other hunters pressuring the area. Sometimes success just isn’t in the cards. Failure is inevitable. For perspective, I spend about every weekend from October through January hunting. As much as I wish I could, I do not always return home with meat for the freezer. That is just part of it. We cannot always be successful, but we must always remain obsessed. For without obsession, what is the point? It's what keeps us coming back for more. For it’s those moments, where all those hours of practice and hard work pay off and the end result is a perfect game or a trophy buck. Those moments, are the ones that are truly beautiful.
Until next time...stay wild.
Brock
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