Nonstop

Noah Brennan

Knowing the other side of not being able to follow my passion is what drives me most.

Out of high school, I wasn’t a highly-touted prospect. I was just a kid that threw kinda hard, with no control, and no off-speed pitches. 

This landed me at a junior college in Pasadena, California. 

I, being a naive eighteen-year-old, felt like I was entitled to more than this. I was unhappy with my situation and thought I should be in pro ball, or at least at a D1 program. So I treated my coaches and my teammates like I was better than them, and before my first college season even started, I was kicked off the team. 

That was it for me. 

I was bitter toward school and baseball, and I gave up. 

I decided I was just going to start working.

I worked a lot of random jobs at first, but I settled into sales.

I was at a small dealership in Southern California called Crown City Motors for a few years. I made good money, and my peers thought it was cool what I did… that kept me going.

I tolerated it, even though I knew something was missing. I couldn’t think of anything else I’d rather be doing since I still had this disdain towards the game of baseball.

One day though, about a year into me working at the dealership, we repossessed a car because the owner had missed a few payments. On the dash of the car was a baseball, and one of my coworkers turned to me and asked, “Hey, didn’t you used to play in college?” I said, “technically,” and he said he wanted to see me throw. 

I asked him what he wanted me to throw at. He said he didn’t want to see me hit a target, he just wanted me to throw it as hard as I could. 

So I looked down our lot and across the street.

There was a seafood restaurant called Cameron’s. I bet my coworker I could throw it on the roof of Cameron’s. He said “no way.” I took off my blazer, dug into the asphalt with my dress shoes, took a little jog into a crow-hop, and chucked that ball my absolute hardest.

I didn’t throw it on top of the restaurant’s roof… I completely cleared the restaurant and hit the wall of the next building over. In a split second, all of the hate I had for baseball melted away, and I was in love with the game again. 

From that day on, I sat at my desk every single day from 9-5 miserable.

I felt like a caged animal.

I knew I still had it, but I wasn’t doing anything about it. 

This lasted for about a year – until I was just so overwhelmed that I didn’t feel like coming into work one day. It was going to be just one vacation day, a mental health day. I told my boss that I had car troubles and I wouldn’t be making it in. He wouldn’t allow it though. He said he’d send someone over to pick me up. At that point, I was fed up, and even though it was nothing that my boss had done wrong, I snapped and I told him emphatically that I quit.

I didn’t care that I now had no job and that I wouldn’t be making rent that month. I was going to do what made me happy. 

I moved out of my apartment, moved into my car, and walked on at Los Angeles Valley College. 

I knew that I wouldn’t be able to possibly afford an apartment if I was going to make this comeback and be in school and baseball full-time. I was willing to make any sacrifice that I had to. 

Living in your car is embarrassing; being a 21-year-old freshman is embarrassing; playing horribly because you haven’t been on a field in three years is embarrassing, but all of that was still better than what was on the other side. 

I would do anything to escape the mundane life of that 9-5 that I had no passion for. I was willing to live in my car through the coldest of winters and the hottest of summers, as long as it meant I got to chase my dreams. 

My freshman year wasn’t the greatest. 

I put up below-average numbers – but I didn’t care.

I was back doing something I was passionate about. I did strive for more though. I didn’t want JUCO to be the end of the road for me. I wanted to play at a university, and I knew I needed to throw harder to stand out. 

I found a facility in El Segundo, CA called Beimel Elite Athletics, which uses Driveline-like approaches to build velocity. For those of you who don’t know, essentially this means training explosively. 

I went from throwing 84 mph to 88 mph, and I was so excited to go into my next season. 

My college coach was an old-school guy though, and he wasn’t a fan of the new-style training methods I was doing. 

He gave me an ultimatum: that I either stopped training there or I didn’t have a spot on the team. 

I took a leap of faith and said I’d find another school to play at. 

Luckily, another school in our conference, West Los Angeles College, emphatically took me in.

Some players on the team already knew me and vouched for me, and I didn’t disappoint. I played the best fall of my entire career and was told by my coach that I’d be the staff’s ace. He told me I’d start on opening day. 

Everything was falling into place – until our last inter-squad before the season. 

Pitchers don’t normally play the field or hit, but our 3rd baseman got injured a few weeks before and our coach asked me to fill in from time to time. I was happy to help out. 

In my first at-bat of this particular inter-squad, I walked and found myself on first base. Being somewhat quick, I decided I’d steal second base. I got a good jump, and the shortstop was standing at the bag like there was no throw coming in. I thought I had the stolen base standing up, so I started to slow down. I was wrong though, and the throw did come in. It was too late to slide, but I tried anyway. In the process, my cleat’s spike got caught in the bag and I twisted my knee.

I partially tore my ACL. It wasn’t bad enough to where I’d need surgery to repair it, but it was bad enough to where I wouldn’t be playing that season. 

I was devastated. 

Everything I worked so hard for was now taken away from me. 

The old me would have gotten overwhelmed, upset, and given up, but now that I knew what was waiting for me on the other side, I refused to let anything stop me. I wasn’t going back to that 9-5. 

I did my rehab. I didn’t complain or feel sorry for myself for a single day. 

I had my eyes on the prize. When I started training at Beimel Elite Athletics again, my velocity had dropped down to 78 MPH. Again though, I wouldn’t be broken. I trained my hardest because I knew I was racing against the clock. I only had a few months until college baseball season started up again – and I was going to play at a university. 

Nothing would stop me. 

I got my velocity back into the mid-80s and I’d developed some really good off-speed pitches. This generated interest from one very small school in South Dakota. It was a step in the right direction, but I wanted more for myself. I continued training and kept getting better. 

One day a guy I trained with, Matt, told me that he thought I was good enough to where I should be getting more exposure. 

He created a Twitter account for me and posted my highlight tape. 

Overnight it blew up. 

It had been seen thousands of times, and I had over 50 offers in my email by the next day.

I was in shock. It goes to show that if you put in the work for long enough, eventually you’ll get lucky and have your shot.

The recruiting process was hard though. 

The fall semester had already ended, so I only had a few weeks to make my decision because teams were headed into their seasons.

Every day I was responding to emails, text messages, and getting on phone calls with coaches. One coaching staff stood out though. Of all the schools I spoke to, the only one said they wanted to fly out and meet me. 

The head coach, assistant coach, and pitching coach from Kansas Wesleyan University all flew in from Salina, KS to Los Angeles to show who they were and tell me all about their program. 

That dedication was enough to sell me. I was committed and signed within a week. 

When I got to KWU, I was so excited. 

I had finally made it. 

I liked all my teammates, the town, everything was perfect. I had one month to earn my spot on the travel roster, and I wasn’t going to disappoint. In all of my bullpens and inter-squads, I did very well, and when the time came, I found out that I would be going to Louisiana with the team. I had officially made it. 

After the 9-hour bus ride, we arrived and stopped at the field at about 7 PM to get some throwing in. 

It was casual, just a light toss under the lights. I felt fine getting off the bus, nothing had changed, but for some reason, on my first throw, my elbow hurt. I tried to push through hoping it would loosen up, but it just didn’t feel right. Back to the injured reserve I went.

Rehab every day, again. Unbroken determination, again. I would be back.

After 6 weeks of tedious stretching, exercises, and everything else imaginable, the tendinitis in my elbow had subsided. I was ready to come back. We were going to be playing USAO in two weeks. They were the #2 ranked NAIA team in the country, and my pitching coach and I had spoken about the possibility of me starting that game. 

Consequently, my hopes were brought up only to be tarnished though. 

Queue COVID-19. 

Our entire season was canceled in the blink of an eye. 

Not just me, but everybody was crushed by the news. I’d have to wait for next season, but I stayed positive because, for many of my teammates, that was the last time they’d ever get to play. Perspective is important.

When lockdowns and quarantines had ended, and school resumed the next fall, many of us were a bit out of shape and under-prepared – I was certainly no exception. 

Consequently, in our first inter-squad, I hurt my elbow again. This time it was a bit more severe though. I strained my flexor pronator and it was discovered that I had tendon degeneration throughout my flexor mass. I tried cortisone shots and stem cell injections and no matter what I did, whenever my arm would lay back in my throwing motion, it felt like my elbow was being stabbed.

I was not done with baseball though, I wouldn’t give up. 

I started experimenting with ways that I could throw that wouldn’t hurt, and I came across throwing the ball sidearm. When I threw sidearm my elbow didn’t have to deal with that violent layback with every pitch. I did some research and the medical literature backed it up too. 

Throwing a sidearm would take some stress off of my elbow. 

Relearning how to throw a baseball after you do it a certain way for 20 years is extremely difficult. It was my most frustrating challenge yet. I struggled with location all year and played the worst I ever have in my entire life. 

I had a game where I walked four guys in a row. In another game, I gave up the go-ahead grand slam. And even another one where I got blasted with a comebacker. All of that though, all of my worst days on a baseball field, were still better than my best days sitting at a desk selling cars.

I finished last season with a 21.60 ERA. 

That is astonishingly bad. 

18 year old me would not have been strong enough to handle this adversity. I would have never tried throwing sidearm, I would have just given up baseball when my arm started hurting again. 

At 25 though, I understand the important things in life, and I know now that even when I’m playing I need to cherish my time on the field because there will be a day when I have to go back to a desk and an office. I just plan on fighting that day off for as long as possible. 

I am not deterred after last season. 

I know my stats don’t reflect my abilities. I’m training my absolute hardest this off-season and I will be ready to dominate come February. I acknowledge that I may have more setbacks and disappointments in the future, but I’ve been beaten down enough to where it doesn’t even hurt anymore. I guess I’m numb and reckless. Or just a dreamer.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my dream alive. 

I told myself when I quit my job that I’d make sure I played pro ball if I was going to make this sacrifice. 

I don’t care if it’s overseas, independent, or anything in between. I will make it to the next level. College baseball is not my last stop. 

To follow this dream, I’ve been hurt and I’ve even been homeless, but I’ve never been hopeless. If you truly believe in yourself, you can do anything. Don’t let anything stop you from chasing your dreams, because regret hurts more than anything. Happiness and passion work together – do something you’re passionate about. 

Our lives, our culture, is all about being perfect. If things aren’t this way we instantly beat ourselves up because everything we take in daily is “perfect.”

I’ve learned from my journey that this stigma is nothing more than a disillusioned lie. 

Nothing about my journey was and still is perfect. But that’s what makes it so special.

No, my journey isn’t some atheistically pleasing IG feed or highlight reel. But I am proud knowing I’ve done everything in my power to continue forward and learned from the mistakes of my past.

I’m still going.

 

 

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