Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is upon us. It is a day in which bright pink teddy bears and sweet smelling roses get passed around. It is a day in which Godiva Chocolatier probably makes an absolute killing. It is a day in which loved ones share gifts with each other and express their feelings to one another.

For me, Valentine's Day this year is somewhat bitter sweet. I'm sitting here with my girlfriend, who is spending the night at my house at school. So from a relationship perspective, everything is more than fine. However there have been years in the past in which I was not in a relationship on Valentine's Day. For a single guy, Valentine's Day is just another date on the calendar...February 14th...every year. And in my opinion, February 14th is typically a time of year that is very important- for another reason.

Around this time of year, every year, baseball season begins. Division II, Division III, Junior College and NAIA schools have started play in some parts of the country. Some high school teams in warmer states have begun their scheduled games. Division I schools open up this weekend. Major League spring training report date is this Sunday (and last year fell on Valentine's Day). With games beginning now or in the near future, practices and preseason preparation is in full swing. For most, this is the time of year when arms begin to get prepped, swings become consistent and cardiovascular conditioning reaches its peak.

During this time a year, I am accustomed to doing much of the same that my teammates are doing. Tweaking my pitches off the mound, building up my arm strength, readying myself to take on the upcoming schedule of opponents. I'm accustomed to lifting weights, completing our team exercises, running to condition ourselves for battle. I am accustomed to completing all of the required elements for mental and physical preparation for the season.

Every day in the last few weeks, I've found myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning, long before the sun rises. I hop in the car and drive up to campus to arrive in the gym, where the rest of my teammates are sitting around and chatting, all dressed in apparel given to them by the school. When the head coach walks in a few minutes later, the entire team is instructed to start warming up, which consists of a slew of dynamic stretches that take approximately 15 minutes. After the stretching is completed, the team runs. And runs and runs and runs. Sometimes, teammates fall to muscle cramps, others to unruly stomachs. After about a half hour of non-stop conditioning and excruciating cardio training, the team is instructed to rest. Each and every player, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily, kneels down as the team convenes in the middle of the gym, attempting as best as possible to regain some air. The head coach provides the team instructions for baseball practice, which is to follow several hours later in the afternoon after classes wind down. The team huddles up, speaks briefly to one another, and then departs for the locker room.

My morning is identical to my teammates' morning, up until the head coach's orders to warm up. As everyone revolves around the gym and struggles about the morning conditioning, I continue to calmly sit on the side of the gym alongside the rest of the coaching staff. I sit comfortably and quietly, with no sweat hanging from my brow and no elevated heart rate. I cheer on my teammates, providing an optimistic voice through the misery that is evidenced on their faces. After the conditioning is over and everyone heads to the locker room to shower, I retreat to the weight room to complete my day's worth of exercises.

Alone.

NCAA rules mandate that I am not eligible for a medical hardship waiver if I participate in practices with the team as a player. Because of my predicament and my standing as a volunteer assistant coach on the team, my duties are confined to "coaching things". I hit fungos, underhand front toss and hold the stopwatch. I tell pitchers to stop choking their changeup, and to get over their front side, and to stay on top of their two-seamers.

Being able to participate in a sense that I am contributing to the team in some way is something that I thought would be a great feeling. I figured it would be incredibly self-gratifying to be able to assist my teammates- my brothers- in their quest for a championship.

Truth be told, I was wrong. I don't want to stand on the side of the gym and watch my teammates run sprints. I don't want to stand in the dugout and watch my middle infielders turn double plays. I don't want to initiate a defensive practice and tell freshmen what bases to cover on a rundown. I don't want to watch pitchers throw bullpens.

I want to play baseball.

I want to be out there screaming and sweating and pushing my body to the point of collapse with my teammates. I want to step on the mound and throw live bullpens to hitters that are attempting to hit the ball as hard as they can on me. I want to cover first base on a PFP drill for hours on end. I want to be able to help my teammates on the field, and I want them to be able to help me.

Instead of preparing for battle with the family of teammates that I have come to love in my last three years of college baseball, I am imprisoned to the sideline. And when the time comes for me to complete whatever physical activities I need to complete that day...throwing, running, lifting, etc., I am required to complete these on my own time. Detached from the group of guys I love. Away from the game I live to play.

This year's Valentine's Day dinner with my girlfriend will taste especially good because it is reminiscent of all the great times we've had together thus far in our relationship. But when the meal is done and I begin to sit down and ponder, my thoughts will turn to the biggest void in my life. Baseball.

Happy Valentine's Day to everyone.