Two nights ago I played what will likely be the last meaningful baseball game in my life. This game comes some four years after my last high school game. At that point in my life I thought that high school baseball was the end of my athletic career. I had resigned myself to possibly only playing intramurals for the rest of my days. And honestly, I thought I was okay with that.
When I started school at Fordham I had talked to my cousin Jarrett about potentially getting me in touch with his friend on the baseball team to see about trying to walk on. Nothing ever came of it and honestly I think that is for the best. When I got to Pitt and learned about club baseball I thought it sounded like a good deal. Serious baseball without the time commitment of a varsity sport, and along with that a lessened fear of failure. I remember emailing Perkey asking if I could tryout that spring. He informed me the team was set for that year and that I could try out the following spring. So I waited around and come fall of my sophomore year I somehow made the team. I'm pretty sure I was one of the last guys the officers decided to take, and at one point Cunliffe had told me he had written "cut" next to my name on the tryout sheet.
Sophomore year was filled with intermittent playing time and an upsetting loss in regionals. I remember standing in the right field grass listening to Fitz and Cunliffe share their bits on the entire experience. I knew then that PCB was about a lot more than just playing baseball. I knew I never wanted to see myself in their shoes (no offense guys). I just didn't want it to end like that. I didn't think I could handle it.
Fast forward another year where we picked up some quality guys, and bonds from the previous year continued to strengthen. Based on the season we had leading up to the regional tournament I was convinced we were going to go to the World Series. But after two games dropped to Penn State I saw another season come to a close. Disappointment doesn't do justice to the emotions I was feeling at that time. I remember riding home with Toby just reflecting on what had happened. I couldn't believe we came so close and managed to fall short. Moving forward I knew I wanted to make it back to regionals and escape with a more favorable outcome.
Before I knew it the tryouts had come and gone and we had selected a team. I knew right then we had a group that (given some time) could win regionals and maybe the World Series. We had plenty of shaky games throughout the year. But somehow we always managed to pull it out. No matter how many runs we were down or how many outs we had left, we always seemed to remain cool and keep faith that we were in total control of the outcome. By the time our last series came around the idea of going undefeated didn't seem out of the realm of possibilities. Those three games came and went like so many before: a lot of ups and downs, but nonetheless we made it out with three wins under our belt.
As I prepared for regionals I came to terms with the fact that my playing career could come to an end that weekend. I had prepared a speech for the guys if we were to lose that weekend. I don't think I'll ever forget regionals this year for so many reasons. From the outset our entire team was playing to prove that we deserved the number one ranking we had been given several weeks prior. Beyond that, Delaware and their president had been under the impression that they deserved to be ranked higher than us because of the hellacious beatings they were dishing out. After Delaware lost their first game to UMass and we beat Boston College, I had a good feeling about the weekend. Delaware then eliminated Boston College after we dismissed UMass and before Sunday's games could be played the miserable weather rolled in.
The most memorable part (possibly of my entire PCB career) came that afternoon not on a baseball field like you might expect but rather in a Wegman's cafe. The NCBA informed us that we had to play a final game to eliminate the winner of UMass and Delaware and that we would have to stick around until Monday to do so. I remember Edge telling us that he had no problem forfeiting the game if need be because we had been dealt a shitty hand. We pleaded with him to tell the NCBA we wouldn't be able to field a team, which wasn't totally accurate because we had 12 guys who said they could definitely stay but those 12 didn't make up our best lineup. When the NCBA said we either play or forfeit the number of guys staying went from 12 to 22. We're talking about guys missing class and work and doing so with less than 24 hours warning.
The most memorable part (possibly of my entire PCB career) came that afternoon not on a baseball field like you might expect but rather in a Wegman's cafe. The NCBA informed us that we had to play a final game to eliminate the winner of UMass and Delaware and that we would have to stick around until Monday to do so. I remember Edge telling us that he had no problem forfeiting the game if need be because we had been dealt a shitty hand. We pleaded with him to tell the NCBA we wouldn't be able to field a team, which wasn't totally accurate because we had 12 guys who said they could definitely stay but those 12 didn't make up our best lineup. When the NCBA said we either play or forfeit the number of guys staying went from 12 to 22. We're talking about guys missing class and work and doing so with less than 24 hours warning.
I remember Edge looking at me and saying (excuse my/his language), "Fuck it. Let's go win the whole thing." I teared up. No joke. Seeing a group of guys cancel flights home and call their bosses saying they couldn't come in gave me such a rush. Looking back on that day maybe I shouldn't be so surprised. We worked all year and suddenly someone who didn't know us was telling us we might have to forfeit. But we didn't. We stayed and we played. Long story short of the next day is this: we went out and beat UMass handily. We won the regional championship and we did so without our entire team. It was a bittersweet feeling not having everyone there to see it happen though.
Now don't get me wrong, winning regionals was a rush I won't soon forget, but the thought of winning a World Series trumps any regional title. I knew going into the World Series that we didn't have the most talented team in the tournament. That's just the honest to god truth. But there wasn't a doubt in my mind that we could still win the whole damn thing. We didn't, though. We won our first game handily and then dropped a tough contest against Nevada. We had finally lost our first game. We lost our first game of the season on May 30th. We played 33 games and hadn't suffered defeat once. And wouldn't you know, we ended up losing back to back games. Our bats went silent and our pitchers just didn't have their best stuff. The truth is that we got outplayed. We showed up and didn't play as well as we should have...as well as we could have. And in a matter of 24 hours we went from undefeated, undisputed number 1 team in the country to our season being over. We went 247 days and 33 games without being beaten and in a matter of 24 hours we lost two games and our season was over. I'm not gonna lie, it's a shitty way for a season to end. But that's life. Colorado State had a better night than us and we didn't deserve to win.
I can honestly say that the three games at the World Series were three of my worst games at the plate in my entire PCB career. I felt like I let my teammates down. I gave it all that I had and I simply couldn't execute. When all was said and done I simply didn't perform. But it would be selfish to make those three games about me. If I could go back and replay those at bats I would do it. I would do it a hundred times over to try and get them all right. Not because I give a shit about being 0 for 10 but because I didn't want to stop playing my favorite game with my best friends. Stats, accolades, and winning percentages all look really cool on paper, but at the end of the day that's all they're good for. You can't share a laugh with them or tell them some stupid joke. You can't ask their opinion of a memory you shared or tell them your life goals. You can only do that with friends. And in three years of playing club baseball I made some of the best friends a guy could ask for. They're short tempered, loud, in your face, brilliant, deranged, and beyond comical. They're some of the most ragtag individuals but somehow when you put them on a baseball field it all works.
I'm not sad because I didn't win a World Series title. I'm sad because I won't get to play ball with the guys I care most about. I don't care that we didn't get to dogpile one last time, I care that I won't get to share anymore 5 hour car rides with my buddies.
You see, I've been around plenty of varsity athletes and while the experience they're afforded is unimaginable, I wouldn't trade club baseball for the world. Playing a club sport gave me a much greater appreciation for a game that I've always loved. Something about paying to play makes you feel more inclined to show up and put your time in. PCB reminded me why baseball is such a great sport. There isn't another sport where succeeding 3 out of 10 times means you're great. It's a game where you're setup to fail.
But I don't think our team failed this year. We lost two games, sure, but failing would've been something far less gratifying than what I felt this year. To me success can be measured by the amount of time you're happy compared to the amount of time you're dissatisfied. This season the highs far outweighed the lows. Losing two games in a row hurt like hell, but winning 33 in a row before that will always be what I remember.
When I look back at my college career one of the first things that will come to mind is PCB. And when my kids ask me what it was like I won't remember losing in the World Series. I'll tell them about the car rides and hotel stays with the mod squad. I'll tell them about the gator trip and dinners at Sonny's. I'll tell them about 28 guys having an undefeated regular season and regional tournament. And when I tell them about the World Series I'll tell them about how beautiful the field was, about how insignificant and small the surrounding town was, about how Brett knew every European capital I asked him about, and I'll tell them that the worst part of it for me was that Toby wasn't there to experience it with me.
I will most definitely miss the rush of laying down a bunt or running down a fly ball in the gap, but that isn't what I'll miss most.
I'll miss the late nights in the cost center. I'll miss the balls ricocheting off of the wire when we're long tossing (you know, the one night a week where we had more than a third of the field for practice). I'll miss hitting groups where Edge has his phone playing music. I'll miss the non business majors harassing us for "majoring in Excel." I'll miss those grueling car rides to Florida where everyone is forced to become closer than they ever planned. I'll miss having a real reason to go to the gym and put in work. I'll miss (and it kills me to admit this) playing on Trees Field. I'll miss being known as the kid who tried out in black baseball pants and rec specs. I'll miss the inside jokes and the constant harassment that was so easily thrown around. I'll miss looking in the stands, no matter what state we were playing in, and seeing my family there to support me. I'll miss it all.
PCB has given me more than I could ever give it. It's left a mark on my college experience that is impossible to erase. All I can hope is that I've been able to contribute something, no matter how small, to the sport and team that gave me the best experience of my college career.
So thank you baseball. Thank you PCB. Thank you to the guys who came before me, my teammates, and the guys who have yet to put on the PCB jersey. You guys made it all worth it.
"We the twenty-eight, under one system..."
