Finding My Ikigai: Pt II

In my last newsletter, I broke the news that I was leaving baseball. But that decision was only part of the story. I wanted to make this a series because I have so much more to share—not just about the choice itself, but about the moments that led me to it.

Last season was one of the most successful seasons I’ve been a part of. It was incredibly fulfilling to make the playoffs in Hartford, seeing players I worked with debut in the big leagues. It proved to me that the work I was doing mattered. But even with all that success, certain moments throughout the season stuck with me and ultimately changed how I thought about my future.

One of those moments happened early in spring training last year. I was sitting with one of our Major League trainers, watching his son’s baseball game on his phone. His son was getting ready to graduate high school, and he was talking about helping him find a school where he could continue playing. Then, he paused, looked at me, and said, “You know, I’ve never seen my son play a real baseball game.”

That hit me hard. This is one of the best athletic trainers I’ve ever worked with—knowledgeable, dedicated, and deserving of his position. But he hadn’t been able to watch his son play. I kept replaying that moment in my mind, thinking about what it would mean if I had kids one day. What would I miss? Would they remember me being home, or just being gone? Would they only see me on TV now and then?

Then there were the mornings when I’d wake up in a hotel room, completely disoriented, asking myself: Where am I? What am I doing? Those moments always seemed to follow long conversations with friends—hearing about their weekend trips, bachelor parties, weddings, or just simple nights out together. And meanwhile, I was in Reading, Pennsylvania, missing it all. Every time I came home, the questions were the same: Are you back for good? When do you leave again? Where are you now? And every time, my answer felt temporary.

It wasn’t just one thing—it was a combination of everything. While I’ve already shared the broad strokes of why I decided to move on, I wanted to highlight these specific moments because they’re what truly shaped my decision.

Spring training is underway now, and there’s a lot I miss. Seeing the photos, the interviews, the warm Arizona weather—I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pull. But at the same time, I made this decision for myself, and I stand by it. And I can’t tell you how excited I am for Opening Day, when I’ll get to be there—not in the dugout, but in the stands—supporting the guys I worked with, seeing familiar faces, and staying connected to the game in a new way.

Because even though I’m no longer in baseball full-time, I’m not out of the game. I live just a few blocks from the ballpark, and I’ll be at plenty of games this season. More than that, I’m continuing to work with athletes in a different way.

Some of you may already know this, but I’ve also taken a leap and started my own business—Buffalo Performance Rehab. My goal is to provide the same level of care that I did within the Rockies organization, but to local athletes here in Colorado. Right now, it’s still in the early stages, but I already have a few clients, and I’m seeing real progress. That feeling—helping athletes perform at their best, seeing their success firsthand—is what I love, and I’m excited to keep growing this. Who knows where it will take me? Maybe I’ll start working with youth teams, travel clubs, basketball players, weekend warriors, runners, skiers—there’s no limit to where this can go.

For now, I’m balancing both worlds. My job at UCHealth has been a great change of pace, pushing me to grow in new ways. At the same time, I’m pouring my energy into my own business, creating an environment that brings back everything I love about the training room—building relationships, helping athletes stay at their peak, and making an impact.

As I get back into writing these newsletters, I’ll be sharing more—about my experiences, my business, my job, and everything in between. There’s a lot of work ahead, but I know I’m on the right path.

To the grind and the glory,

Coy Coker