Years ago, I played basketball and baseball. I was pretty good in both, although whether I had any talent that would have allowed me to go beyond high school competitively is open to question. Politics in high school derailed any chance I had of finding out, although in both cases the ultimate decision was mine. Knowing as I did even back then what my ultimate career would be, I decided to focus on studies and play sports on the side in intramural leagues. That didn't mean the competitive fire burned any dimmer, just that I didn't put as much energy into competing with intent to advance in the sports.
If I had to be honest, I was no better than Division II material in basketball, probably Division III. I had no speed to speak of, no jumping ability and little in the way of shooting skill. I did have, as they say, a high basketball IQ. I could outthink anyone on the court. Of that I'm sure.
The case for baseball is less clear. I ruined my arm as a twelve-year-old curveball specialist. This was back when the effects of throwing weren't as known as they are today. We'd never heard of pitch counts, much less the effects of breaking pitches on developing bodies. After I blew out my arm -- which to this day hangs differently than does my other arm -- I switched to first base and was quite good there. Despite my size, I was never much of a power hitter, but with the right coaching, I may well have been a decent hitter. Again, politics cost me my shot. Despite not playing in high school my last two years, a college wrote me and offered me the opportunity to play at the school. Unfortunately, that offer didn't include a scholarship. Had I pursued baseball, I might have had a future in it.
These musings came to mind because I was reading today about college football recruits who never realized their potential for one reason or another. The same has held true in baseball and basketball as well. These kids are touted as being the next Ted Williams or the next John Elway and then they don't reach the professional leagues, much less the halls of fame. It has to be a sobering realization sometime in their twenties or thirties to know that what was once said about them will never be.
The ones that are saddest are the ones that threw away the opportunity. No one can prevent catastrophic injuries. But if someone were injured and therefore unable to realize the potential he possessed, it would be sad but not as sad as someone who threw his future away because of drugs, sex, gambling, etc. All too often, stories are heard of athletes who veer from the path toward greatness because of the lure of other temptations and as a result lose what could have been theirs.
I wonder what they must think when they look back in their middle age. Do they find excuses to blame their own mistakes? Do they admit that they did it to themselves? If I'd been in their shoes, I'd beat myself up every day knowing that it was my fault I didn't realize my potential.
The same argument holds true for any profession, I suppose. But professional sports, like celebrity in music or acting, holds the twin combination of riches and eternal popularity that aren't found as widely in other arenas. For me, sports were about competition, not wealth or popularity. For others, they're more about wealth or popularity or both. Whatever the ultimate goal, it's sad when it isn't realized for any reason, but all the moreso when it's due to carelessness, irresponsiblity, stupidity, greed or whatever vice one chooses to name.
(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
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