Lefty on Lefty

By Matthew Petrucci

Toe the left side of the rubber. Look-in.

Start off 2 seams away. Slight pressure on the middle finger to make it cut. Strike. 0-1.

Come back at him. 2 seams away off the plate, make him swing. Fouled off. 0-2.

I love this feeling. 

I know at this point that I’ve got him. I can either throw a changeup in or a hard slider away. Either way, he needs to protect.

Look in, 3 fingers down. Nod. Hook the seam. Come set. Deep breath. Step right at him and make it break.

I love this game. The strategy. The execution. The constant challenge.

Joe Torre said it best in his Hall of Fame induction speech, “Baseball is a game of life. It’s not perfect, but it feels like it is. That’s the magic of it. We are responsible for giving it the respect that it deserves.”

I wholeheartedly agree. I love baseball. It has taught me so much about how to handle adversity, be humble, and hone a consistent mindset.  And that’s on and off the diamond.

I’d like to tell you that it was always that way, but there were certainly challenges along the way, especially when the pressure of being recruited in high school. Let’s just say I had the highest aspirations; I wanted to play Division 1 baseball. 

I mean, who doesn’t?

The challenge for me was I had D1 speed, but a D2/D3 bat. I could, however, pitch at D1/D2 level. I didn’t exactly light up the radar gun pitching, even though I could get people out with my speed differential. That meant that I wasn’t going to be a starter on a team where there are multiple guys throwing high 80s.

So needless to say, I wasn’t recruited heavily. I made the decision to follow my academics to a school with D1 sports instead of going to a Juco, figuring I could try and walk on. 

I didn’t make the team.

I could have easily just said that was it. But I wasn’t ready to give it up.

What followed was the challenge of my young adult life. My path was full of walk-on tryouts, failures to make the team, playing in adult baseball leagues, taking 20 credits to play baseball at the local juco while I continued my degree, and a fall season to make the roster.

I didn’t care. I wanted to meet the challenge. I wanted to keep playing the game and play it at a high level. Because I knew that I could.

What drove me? The feeling when you are absolutely dealing. The feeling that there is literally no place you’d rather be at 12:30 AM than be on the diamond trying to win an extra-innings game. The feeling of doing fieldwork after being on the field for 5 straight hours, enjoying the tranquility of sundown on the field as you head to your car.

 If I didn’t have the drive to be on that diamond every day, it would have been easy to quit. Just say that it’s too hard. But I thoroughly loved it.

When it came to the time between the lines, the best times along the way were when I played the game for what it was. When I didn’t get lost in comparison with those around me. When I trusted in my own ability and didn’t try to play outside of it. This allowed me to grow as a baseball player and a person.

The worst times? When I made the game more than it should be. In the process of trying to make the team, when we had to cut 35+ to 30 players, I started to focus on the comparisons instead of getting lost in the joys of the game. I remained at this level of comparison instead of allowing myself to trust my capabilities. 

Self-doubt is dangerous. It can lead you astray. It is absolutely counterproductive. As John Wooden once said, “don’t let what you cannot do get in the way of what you can do.”

When I made the team, my coach could see I was playing tight, and in my meeting with him before the season he said, “just play the game like you would in the backyard.” He was right. I couldn’t at the time because I felt like I needed to keep up. But the truth was, I was playing with several MLB draft picks, I was playing at the highest level, and I could get outs. I could compete.

In the end, I made the cut, I pitched a few innings to officially become a D1 athlete. And that was it. I accomplished my dream of playing D1 and I wouldn’t trade my journey for anything. I’ll forever be grateful to the University of San Diego and coach Rich Hill for the opportunity.

But, something about it felt empty. I couldn’t just play the game.

In the years since, I have found that pure feeling on the diamond again, and it’s because I was able to play the game I love without consequence. I could compete by trusting my abilities. In a recent game that stands out for me, I was a 34-year-old pitcher playing in an 18+ adult league game. After several good innings and just having a blast, I looked at my teammate and exclaimed with every ounce of my being, “don’t you just love this game!”

That’s the passion.

When you play the game for what it is, and you play it with passion, when you play for the love of the game, you can’t go wrong. When you respect the game, it will respect you.

So what’s my advice? Reach for the stars. Absolutely go for your goals, however far-fetched that they may be. But while you’re on the path – TRUST yourself. Play within your ability. Never lose sight of enjoying the game above else. If you do, you will not only reach your goals faster, but you will also be able to enjoy it while you’re in it.

Let the love of the game drive you, because any day on the diamond, is a good day.