problems, it was eight months before I could drive a car again. At
physical therapy, I practiced basic motor patterns like walking in a
straight line. I was determined not to let my injury get me down, but
there were more than a few moments when I felt depressed and
overwhelmed.
I became painfully aware of how far I had to go when I returned to
the baseball field one year later. Baseball had always been a major part
of my life. My dad had played minor league baseball for the St. Louis
Cardinals, and I had a dream
of playing professionally, too. After
months of rehabilitation, what I wanted more than anything was to get
back on the field.
But my return to baseball was not smooth. When the season rolled
around, I was the only junior to be cut from the varsity baseball team. I
was sent down to play with the sophomores on junior varsity. I had
been playing since age four, and for someone who had spent so much
time
and effort on the sport, getting cut was humiliating. I vividly
remember the day it happened. I sat in my car and cried as I flipped
through the radio, desperately searching for a song that would make
me feel better.
After a year of self-doubt, I managed to
make the varsity team as a
senior, but I rarely made it on the field. In total, I played eleven
innings of high school varsity baseball, barely more than a single game.
Despite my lackluster high school career, I still believed I could
become a great player. And I knew
that if things were going to
improve, I was the one responsible for making it happen. The turning
point came two years after my injury, when I began college at Denison
University. It was a new beginning, and it was the place where I would
discover the surprising power of small habits for the first time.
