Baby Steps

By Travis Kinyoun

I was a seventeen and a half-years-olds, switch-hitting, high school catcher when the phone rang for me.

It’s a call many young baseball players spend their whole lives dreaming of.

The fact that such a young kid could be offered this sort of opportunity is still unbelievable. 

And believe me, I felt the weight of such a gift.

But the fact was I was to be a professional baseball player!

I could not wait to begin my professional journey. 

But make no mistake, the journey to that position had started a long time ago.

Baseball is surely unique, no doubt about that. But it’s a lot like everything else in life. There are levels to it. You don’t just take a ten-layer cake straight out of the oven. The process of getting it perfect is made up of a multitude of elements.

The most important element being consistency.

This element pushed me to fields all over Southern California, at every time of the day.

Becoming a good baseball player and progressing in the game is built off of BABY STEPS.

Yup.

No one likes to hear it.

But greatness is made in small, consistent steps.

Every…single…day.

Every single day I worked. It was wake up, practice, eat, practice again, eat, play, eat, sleep. 

This routine I followed religiously.

Coaches loved me, players couldn’t keep up, and private instructors…well, let’s just say I made them a lot of money, possibly with my parent’s own. 

A quick word, to all my parents out there, you know what private instructors mean. And you all are not thanked enough for your sacrifice. So thank you.

Like I was saying, luckily for me, all that hard work went somewhere.

I signed with the Detroit Tigers out of high school.

All the blood, sweat, and tears that I put in had paid off. 

All because I never took no for an answer.

Living the dream was definitely something I will never forget. 

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Every day I think about the memories and accolades I was gifted from that period in my life.

Most importantly, I think how proud my family was of me. I can see the proud look on my

mom’s, my dad’s, and both my brothers’ faces’ every time I look back in memory.

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But the grind didn’t stop.

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Each off-season I prepared myself to head into spring training knowing I had a chance to 

move up through the ranks of the minor leagues, trying to get that cup of coffee in the show.

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I even spent a couple of off-seasons overseas brewing up my MLB debut campaign.

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Unfortunately, though, my dream to play in the show only made it that far.

Remember the cake reference I made earlier.

Well, it seems everything had gone right. I followed instructions, worked consistently, and put the cake that was to be my career safely into the oven. It was so close. 

What every chef doesn’t tell you about is the precarious nature of navigating a perfectly baked cake to the table through a field of extraneous variables. For me, I got tripped on the way there. 

It was in the 1992 season playing High A ball with the Kansas City Royals in Wisconsin when the dream would eventually come to an end. 

While receiving a throw from our right fielder to home plate I was crushed by the base runner in a collision that would ultimately be the start of the end of my career as a player.

I went into emergency surgery and spent most of the season rehabbing and trying to plot a comeback.

Never being hurt at any time in my life as a player, this was all new territory for me. 

After all the rehab, I finally made it back the last month of the season. Hitting a home run in my very first trip to the plate. I felt like I had not lost a step.

But deep down I felt like the knee was not completely back. 

After getting back onto the field the knee never came back the way it once was. 

For better or for worse, the cake never came to fruition. 

After all the hard work it came to an end… 

I eventually was given my release and had to make a decision that would be the hardest I would ever have to make as a player and retire from professional baseball. 

The Dream was over.

But the work wasn’t.

Now at 50 years old, I am a coach.

Coaching and instructing became my new passion. It gives me tremendous pride and self restitution trying to help other kids achieve the dreams I once had.

All the passion I had as a player transformed into my passion for being a Coach/Instructor. 

However, I came to find out coaching is completely different today from when I was being coached as a player.

The world is definitely different.

The same things I was told as a player and put through when I was younger are culturally unacceptable in this day in age.

You make do with what you have though.

But the grace period of adjusting to this new role as a mentor, as an example for younger athletes was not without its difficulties. 

I remember things back in my day just being so much simpler.

Now parents require that they share their every waking opinion about everything.

Your style, diction, attitude, price, appearance… are all judged.

I was feeling discouraged at first. 

I think anyone with this big of a culture shock would be.

But then I recalled such a common and unappreciated phrase that once was at the heart and pinnacle of my success. 

Baby Steps.

I think it was because of my “go, get it” nature it was tough to slow down. 

As an instructor, you have to find strategies for each and every kid you work with. You can’t spoon-feed the same thing twice or expect one lesson to carry over to the next.

Most importantly, you have to keep it simple.

The game of baseball is unimaginably difficult.

Especially when you try making it to the college and professional level. 

Attention to detail is critical to becoming great at the sport. 

So that is where I went back too.

Now in charge of providing instruction to clients, high school, college, and professional athletes, my motto is baby steps. 

Small steps every single day is what matters.

I think everyone wants to see their kids and players out competing with this unstoppable and audacious drive. 

But the reality is, this attitude and culture are built on consistent steps.

The thing I have come to appreciate is that every player is different. 

I beg coaches, teachers, people, in general, to please not try to make every player and person be like someone else or like how you were as a player. 

Simplify the game based on each individual’s makeup. Let them learn from their mistakes! 

The participation trophy and militant structure culture are two sides to the same catastrophic coin.

I was great because of the freedom I had to learn and make mistakes on the field. 

And at the same time accept accountability for the shortcomings and successes. 

Wherever you are, as a current player, coach, assistant, teacher, even person… just let people make mistakes and learn from them.

What I thought at one time to be my life’s greatest tragedy, transformed into a flourishing career. 

Keeping things simple and always in perspective.

Chances are whatever problems you may face there are small and simple steps to follow to help you overcome life’s biggest obstacles but most importantly achieve what was thought to be impossible.