Baseball and My Identity Crisis

Baseball and My Identity Crisis

I consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to play sports. In addition, I had wonderful mentors, coaches and role models from whom I learned many valuable lessons. Some of them are still with us today, others have since passed along, but will remain in my thoughts forever.

Sometimes in life, we are privileged to have meaningful relationships and conversations with persons of wisdom. As an avid reader, I also find myself connecting with authors and characters to see the world through their perspectives, learning and growing along the way. One of the more recent books I had the pleasure of reading was ‘Atomic Habits’ by James Clear. In addition to learning a great deal about success and the simple, consistent steps required to build the path to success, I also came across a quote which resonated very strongly with me, and inspired me to share this story with you, dear reader. Here is the quote that stopped me in my tracks one cold, snowy morning as I overlooked the frozen harbor in Summerside, PEI.

For most of my young life, being an athlete was a major part of my identity. After my baseball career ended, I struggled to find myself. When you spend your whole life defining yourself in one way and that disappears, who are you now? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????(Clear, 2018, p. 248)

This struck a chord. Who am I, really? I sat there, somewhat perplexed with my morning coffee, before proceed to introspection and taking a few notes. My thoughts continued for the next few days, and I figured it would be best to put it in writing.

Over the past few years, I have had the honor of serving as instructor in the Master of Education program at St. Francis Xavier University. The passion, conviction, and inspiration from these groups of leading learners, including the current cohort this winter term, have strengthened my belief in the value of vulnerability as a strength and an asset, in contrast to how it may have been perceived in the past – in sports and other areas if life alike. As a society, we have come a long way in this regard, and here is my foray into the realm of sharing my vulnerability on a broader scale. I hope you will enjoy my story.

Growing up in a rural community, I had much freedom to explore and roam, including on local ball fields and other sporting venues. There were always many friends who could be counted on to show up on Saturday morning (or any morning, for that matter). They all lived within a reasonable distance and we would congregate at every opportunity to play from morning until dark on most days. In my youth, I recall instances where I would also practice and sometimes even play in leagues with older youth, thus gaining more confidence and skills along the way. This was invaluable in developing humility, but especially in learning by observing how others were performing (or not), to determine how I may develop and/or adjust my game to improve. This became part of my identity – not that I was aware of it at the time; learn by observing, then repeating. As a result, little by little, day by day, week by week, and season by season, I was able to learn from many individuals – players and coaches – to hone my skills. As mentioned in a previous post, I remain forever grateful to Barry Marchand who was an incredible mentor. His influence goes beyond what words may express here. While I was deeply saddened at his passing on April 25th, 2021, I am pleased to say there is one regret I do NOT have: I made sure to take the time to sit down with him, while he was healthy, to express my appreciation for him and what he did to help me along. I learned many valuable sport and life lessons which I carry with me to this day. I especially thanked him for his influence in my ‘success’ in intermediate and senior baseball in Nova Scotia and beyond, due in no small part to the time and energy he devoted to offering me pointers. It was a precious moment to embrace him at first base for the final out when we, the Petit de Grat Red Caps, a club team from rural Nova Scotia, won the Canadian 35+ Oldtimers Baseball championship. There is nobody else on the planet I would have wanted to share that moment with.

I will say that one strength I possessed – part of my identity – was being willing to adapt to circumstances in order to contribute to team success. I learned from mentors that aversion to change was not a quality that led to success – not in the short term, and especially not in the long term. By denying ourselves the opportunity to face adversity, to fail, and to learn from it, we are denying ourselves to become the person we were meant to be. Lesson learned, although there are times when a friendly reminder can be valuable by offering support and sustaining motivation. That’s what critical, trusted friends are for…

After many years on the baseball diamond, from the back yard, to the pick-up games with friends, through little league, numerous championships at the local, provincial and Atlantic level in intermediate baseball, and several years of amazing experience in the Nova Scotia Senior Baseball league, including having the privilege to play in two national championships, it was time to call it a day. The many bumps and bruises, and more significant injuries (4 knee surgeries), and especially Father Time told me it was time to hang ‘em up. To be frank, I should have done so earlier, and my orthopedic surgeon would concur, I am quite certain. But you know… that identity thing?

All good things must come to an end… I was prepared to stop playing, or at least I thought so. As a fan, I appreciate watching younger players learning, while seeing some of my contemporaries who continue to play. Going to watch games during the first year as a non-player (fan), there always seemed to be an ‘itch’ even though I denied it at the time. I would have liked to have played, but as I would regularly state, ‘it is much safer for me outside the white lines.’ Even though I knew I could no longer play at the level I expected of myself, there were times when it was challenging. I was an athlete; it is in my blood, my DNA, the fabric of my being. That was my identity for so long, that it felt awkward to have that part of me seemingly removed.

After the first summer of not playing, it did get easier, and I came to more readily accept that the sports playing phase of my life was in the rear-view mirror. I had thought, in younger years, of how baseball was a central part of my life. It was not until I stopped playing, and was unable to play as I wished (especially pain free!) that I came to realize how important a part of my identity the Grand Old Game truly was. When playing a sport, like an artist in ‘the zone’, I found myself in ‘Flow’ as so eloquently and brilliantly detailed by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. There was no time; there was nothing else. The moment was all that existed. That is the beauty of sport – being able to get ‘lost’ and to truly live in that moment as if in a bubble. This was special. My time. Bruce Time. To this day, I still need my time alone to read, re-energize, and recharge. It is part of who I am, except now, I do it elsewhere than on the baseball field.

Reading Clear’s (2018) Atomic Habits was eye-opening, and inspiring. Learning of his experience and how he chose to focus on the positives and re-orient the qualities of an athlete to other areas of life served as a significant learning opportunity, one which led to self-reflection, and ultimately, leading me to write this article. What had seemed evident remained somewhat foggy when I tried to apply it to my own context. As an athlete, I could be my harshest critic; perhaps it is no surprise that I could not effectively ‘advise’ myself of the lessons I would readily point out to others to encourage them. Again, learning.

As an athlete, there were times where failure was prevalent. In fact, you fail the vast majority of the time as a batter. Did I get frustrated? At times, yes. But, when I was most successful, I would tend to ‘forget’ the last at bat and use the approach that I was only as good as my next at bat. This kept me grounded and humble, and encouraged me to never get too high, nor to get too low. Balance was key. My identity – stay calm, focus, and be better next time.

The additional lessons learned through baseball – teamwork, responsibility, communication, grit, reliability, performing under pressure, investing time and effort, and many more – cross over into many other realms of life. This is why sport is so important in the overall development of children and youth. Life will offer some tough lessons; it is best to learn to deal with them for yourself instead of having the bubble wrap lifted as an adult and not being able to cope for oneself. *Lesson to parents, let the kids play! And more importantly, let them fail. They will be okay. It will build character, and will help them find their identity.

Change is not always easy, nor is it always pleasant. Having rediscovered my identity has been a positive experience, and one for which I am grateful. Having to cease playing baseball was a tough pill to swallow, but like with illness and healing, sometimes the bad tasting medicine can be quite beneficial. ?I also cannot deny to importance of my reading, reflection, and meditation on this journey, nor the role of conversations with specific individuals (you know who you are). I consider myself re-oriented, and I am ready to take on the world, thanks to the foundation laid, one brick at a time, through my participation in sports, mainly baseball (also hockey).

These lessons have served me well in my career in education, in my business ventures, in volunteer initiatives, and in my personal life. I enjoy challenges, I rise to the occasion, I contribute for the right reasons (altruism), I aspire to improve conditions for others, I commit 100% (or not at all), and I believe in giving credit to team members. The qualities required for success in sports are part of who I am. Now that I no longer actively compete, I can now see how these were critical in forming my character and contributing to my success outside the white lines of the ball diamond. I was an athlete. I am no longer an athlete, yet I possess the mindset and the qualities that I developed through sport, and which continue to guide me each and every day. Thank you, sports, for what you have given me. While I am now relegated to the role of an observer or a fan, I am well-equipped for life because of the numerous lessons you have offered me. My identity has not changed; but how I perceive it most certainly has. Thank you. Merci.

Reference

Clear, J. (2018). Atomic Habits: An easy & proven way to build good habits & break bad ones. Penguin Random House: New York, NY.