Twelve years ago I was a scared 17 year old freshmen trying out for the baseball team at Cal Poly Pomona. I didn't know anyone on the team, or even anyone at the school. I called the coach, and he didn't give me the time of day (but at least he told me what day and time the open tryouts were).
Trying out for a college team isn't like little league or even high school, where everyone gets an equal shot. In college, the team is more or less set at the beginning of the year. The coaches recruit players, and the open tryout is really just a formality. If you don't already have a relationship with the coaching staff, success is unlikely. I was 160 pounds, 5 foot 9, and I wasn't much to look at. I was quick but not super fast. I could hit, but not for power. I had an excellent arm for my size, but compared to the rest of the guys out there, it was barely above average. Would it be enough for me to make the cut?
On tryout day, I was one of 60 guys going for about 5 spots. I ran two sprints, fielded three balls in the outfield, and made three throws from right field to third base. The next day I checked the list on the coach's office wall. The list of 60 was down to 25--there I was, half way down: VEGA. I made cut #1!
Day 2 I actually got to swing the bat, and five pitches would decide my fate. This time, the list on the coach's wall was down to 7. This group of 7would join the rest of the team for regular workouts and practices in the fall. Once again, I made the long walk down the hall of the athletic building. Turn left to the coach's offices. The list was waiting. There I was, four names down. Vega was coming back next week.
I was one of 5 third basemen. The third smallest guy on the team. Some of the new guys had transferred from Division I schools, and I was a runty ex-shortstop from a tiny Christian school in Redlands. I was in over my head. But I could hit, and once the practice games started, my bat exploded. First intersquad game I smashed triple off of our ace pitcher. The hits piled up. In the final series at the end of the fall, I broke open a game with a double in the last inning. I was on fire, but I was still one out of four third basemen, and two of our shortstops could play third too. I was really one out of six.
The final cuts took place in November, and the coaches would meet with each player individually to discuss his fate. I made the long walk yet again, knocked on the door, and stared down at my three coaches.
"Vega. You make plays, but your fielding is terrible. But you hustle. And you can hit. You and Ellena were our two toughest outs, and even when we started pitching you different, you still hit. You're on the squad, and if you keep it up, you'll make the travel squad as well."
I hustled, I scrapped, and I did whatever I could to show that the team could not do without me. Out of those 60 guys who tried out the first day, they kept two players, and I was one of them. I studied hard and took care of business in the classroom, and when grades came out, some of our guys came back ineligible. One of the third basemen got hurt. Another failed classes. Two more dropped out, and suddenly, I was in the running for the starting third base spot. On opening day, I was in the lineup as designated hitter. I dug in to the batter's box, settle into my stance, and smacked the first pitch I saw up the middle for a base-hit. I was a college baseball player.
I didn't make it because I was the best, the biggest, or the strongest. I didn't go to a big high school, and I wasn't recruited by the coaches. I showed up, I worked harder than other people, and I prepared myself, and at the end I finished with the second highest average on the team. When I began a career as a teacher, I followed the same formula: work hard, prepare, and take advantage of every available opportunity. I take what I have learned from my year at Cal Poly Pomona, and I apply it to my job, my marriage, and my recreational activities. Hard work and preparation will not guarantee success, but I can tell you first hand that they put you in a position to take advantage of opportunities when they arise. Baseball is just a game, but for a scrawny 17 year old college freshman, it was Life 101.
