One of the hardest lessons I learned after my baseball career ended:
I had tied too much of my identity to the game.
When I played, everything revolved around baseball.
If I had a great game, life felt great.
If I struggled, it felt like everything was wrong.
My emotions followed the same rollercoaster as the game.
And the truth is, when my emotions were on that rollercoaster, it did not just affect me.
It affected the people I loved the most, because they were the ones who had to deal with it.
And when baseball ended, I realized something that caught me completely off guard:
I did not know where to find my sense of purpose.
That is how powerful this game can be.
It pulls you in so deeply that itโs easy to start believing baseball is who you are, not just something you do.
Today when I talk with high school and college players, this is one of the main things I see.
So many of them have tied their identity completely to the game.
One thing I always make sure they hear from me is simple:
I am proud of you.
And I say that after a great game or a tough one.
Because that pride has nothing to do with performance on the field.
It has everything to do with the person they are becoming.
Sometimes to find perspective, we need to take a step back and look at how far we have come.
It is easy to get stuck in the present and focus only on what needs to happen next to advance.
But when we pause and reflect on the work, growth, and experiences that brought us here, it reminds us that our worth is not tied to one moment, one game, or one season.
The truth is, the game eventually ends for all of us.
What matters most has to be bigger than baseball.
Faith.
Family.
Friendships.
Those are the things that carry you long after the final out.
When your identity is rooted there, baseball becomes what it was always meant to be:
A game to love.
A place to compete.
A platform to grow.
Not the definition of your worth.