The Right Choice

Coach used to call it Friday Funday. He thought it was fun to watch I guess.

When I was at PSU, this time of the year was the worst time of the year. From Mid-October to Mid-December, my Fridays consisted of getting up at 5:30 am to run 110 yard sprints, 300 yard shuttles, 60 yard imnotreallysurebuttheywerebrutal shuffles, and the bases (I was a pitcher so you can only imagine how annoying this was every friday). The team met around 6-6:15 am in the East Area locker room to collectively bathe in our disgust with playing a collegiate sport. I guess deep down we all knew it would be worth it when the season actually got there.

Just walking into the locker room and seeing the anxiety, sadness, disgust, and trepidation of most of my teammates made the morning that much worse. At least we had each other to lean on, but everyone had their separate and personal issues to deal with.  Some of us would have an exam at 8 or 9 in the morning, and yet this was no excuse. We still had to be in Holuba Hall by 6:30am and ready to blow all of your energy, oxygen, and personal will to get through the workout.

I forget who said it, but when I was a freshman one of my former teammates said, “Hey Hawk, they can only kill us till the sun comes up. When you see the sunlight coming through the doors, we’re almost done.”  I always tried to pass that on to the younger guys on the team as I got older.

I remember watching a kid run his 300 yard shuttle while holding a trashcan and throwing up into it at the same time.  One time, I remember when our last 300 yard shuttle had to be done in under 60 seconds by every player on the team. As I came across the finish line, I projected saltines, cranberry juice, and whatever I ate the night before into the Endzone of Holuba Hall. I hope Anthony Morelli didn’t slip and fall in it.

Oh, we had to lift weights after the running too. So we normally got out of there around 8:15. I remember walking down the sidewalk from Holuba Hall to East Area and seeing piles of orange and yellow puke in the snow piles. This was probably from the gatorade. I hope it was from the gatorade.

I always got through it though. We didn’t always get through it. I must admit, there were casualties. We lost players throughout the process. They probably weren’t lacking physicality. They were most likely lacking the mental fortitude. Everyone knows I’m not a specimen by any means. I never was and I probably never will be, but those workouts made my mind stronger. It made me numb to external pains. It made me numb to that test I had later in the day. It taught me how to focus on what I needed to do at that particular time. Without those workouts, I don’t know if I would have ever learned how to clear my head the way that I can now or when I was on the mound with the bases loaded and nobody out.

When I sit down to take an exam in graduate school, I start to shake and my mind spins, but after a deep breath I close my eyes and picture Brad telling me I’m the most pathetic excuse for an athlete he has ever witnessed in the History of Penn State Baseball. Then I think about how my former roommate Boonie would talk about how he had a stool in the shower to sit down on for a while after the workout. I laugh inside. And I remember where I came from. And I remember what got me there. I remember what got me here.

I don’t wake up on Friday and feel mad at the world anymore. I sleep in if I can, because I can. For nearly two years now, I haven’t felt the fear and anxiety that used to develop in the pit of my stomach from Thursday evening until Friday at 8:15a.m. But lets be real for a moment, even my bitching is brutal and petty. As my former roommate’s mom (Mrs. Spinelli) used to say when we complained, “How do you think the troops in Iraq feel?”  Sometimes she would say it after our heads were hanging from a loss. I can still see the look on James’ face when she would say that stuff, but when you put things in perspective years later, it makes some sense.

That place, those workouts, my teammates are responsible for who I am today.

I could sit here and tell stories about my time as a ballplayer, but I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t ever want to be that guy. If I am that guy, let me know. Sometimes I just like to share my experiences, but I understand if you don’t want to hear about them. Whether it be jealousy, ignorance, parental influence, and sometimes even respect, don’t worry about. I get it. Besides, my other teammate O.G. has the intellectual property of our experiences from the 2007-2008 season. He’ll write a book about it someday. It’ll make billions.

So, lets have our own Friday Funday. Here are some of my favorite youtube videos. I don’t know if I’d watch them at work or not. Lets rate them R.