It's late July. Last weekend marked the finale of the regular season in the Men's League. Playoffs were gearing up the very next weekend. As I geared up for the game, engaging in my unique warm-up routine -- stretching with a PVC pipe and twirling it around -- I couldn't escape the banter drifting from the opposing dugout. Laughs and jokes harmonizing with each swing of my makeshift workout buddy filled the air. My warm-up, aimed at ensuring my always troublesome back and body were game-ready, is far from the norm, so I should have seen it coming. Yet, there it was -- the opening act of the overthinking saga.
Mid-warmup, I transitioned to bands and Plyos before playing catch with my catcher. First throw, lawn ornament. Second throw, almost a nature documentary moment as it flirted with the trees behind him. The paranoia kicked in as I felt everyone's eyes on my struggle -- cue the dramatic music. Yips, my friends. The athlete's silent dread, so intense that some treat the word like Voldemort name in the Harry Potter series (nerd alert).
Now, let's not dive into the abyss of my Yips journey today (saving that drama for another time). But let me tell you, it was a culmination of a few things. Back in January, I made the grand decision to take a breather from playing and focus on the grind. The mission? Hit that glorious 90mph mound velocity and document the whole journey from 80 to 90mph. Started off well, but then life threw me a curveball. Underestimated the time commitment, juggled family, Lab shenanigans, and the Lab Rats teams. Men's League games weren't part of the plan, but the team needed help, and guess who had to step up to the plate, literally? Yours truly. Not the summer I envisioned.
Cutting to the chase, I sucked at committing to the task. Yes, there were legit reasons and hurdles, but I could've done better. Long story short, after a grueling summer season, I'm hanging up my competitive cleats. It wasn't fun anymore, anxiety levels spiked by the pressure I put on myself even though I wasn't prepared like normal, and family time was on the endangered list. Just like those MLB legends who retired when the game felt more like a chore than a joy, I followed suit. No Brett Favre-ing around here.
Post our playoff eviction, I spent the rest of the summer rediscovering my (not-so-new) hobby -- golf. Just another rotational sport, you know?
This golfing detour was my stress-buster, a breather from the self-imposed baseball pressure. The Yips crashing the party was a sign -- I needed a reset. Switching to a sport I hadn't played much since high school was the palate cleanser I didn't know I needed. It was different, no expectations, and a couple of hours to zone out from everyday stress with each swing.
Golf, my friends, is a great teacher. Everything is in your control -- no relying on the defense, the team to score, or getting pitches to hit. It demands focus on each swing, a 'one swing at a time' philosophy. The 'now what' mentality, reacting to what life throws at you -- or, in this case, the golf course. It had been my mantra that I forgot about and my way of resetting the mind.
Being the competitor with a growth mindset, I aimed to up my golf game. That meant hitting the weight room, something I hadn't done since the Men's League season started. Mentally burnt out, yipped up, and physically drained, this shift to the weight room was geared toward golf and gaining distance on my drives. The gains were real, and with winter lurking, the thought of throwing started creeping back in. So, I made a deal with myself -- no throwing until I hit 180 lbs. A lofty goal, considering I'd been hanging around the 160-165 lb mark since forever.
Come mid-September, I was a measly 164.4 lbs. Challenge accepted! Eggs for breakfast, packed lunches, and lifting weights became my daily anthem. Fast forward to October 16th, and I hit 180 lbs -- victory dance time.
The golf journey had its purpose -- a reset button for the mind. As November dawned, I dabbled in some throwing, more like a pre-on-ramp phase. No direction, just tossing the ball around. Lifting remained the star, and I found my groove with a solid plan. December brought in PRs in the weight room, and the motivation was on fire.
But wait, this is just a teaser. The next blog will spill the beans on my strength training journey from September till the year-end. And, of course, there'll be one detailing the road back to throwing and the mechanical tweak from the "pre-on-ramp" phase to the Plyo Velo on the day after Christmas. The birthday special is in the works too -- mound velo testing and throwing mechanics videos on January 15th. Oh, and brace yourselves for a tale about my wrestling match with the Yips over the years.
Safe to say, we're back in business. This is my thing for the year -- documenting the Road to 90 and sticking to it. Shoutout to my friend at Driveline, Coach Jerry, for being the New Year's resolution guru. I'm taking a page from his book (or crockpot) -- a blog or social media post every week. Catch you next week!