Club Baseball at Tufts University: My Second Chance

By Gregory John "G.J." Vitale on February 27, 2013

WARNING: 7/10 on the Sappiness Scale.

I came to Tufts University a spurring young pitcher with potential to do well at the college level. Wait, let me rephrase. I came to Tufts University an out-of-shape, wide-eyed, 76-mph-throwing right-handed pitcher. I was talking with the coaching staff on a weekly basis in the summer, figuring I had an undeniable spot on the team from our discussions. In February of freshman year, I got the news from Coach Casey himself—the way it should be done. We were going to try again next year was the conclusion.

Sophomore year came, went, and had the same result. I knew it was coming this time around. I’d only managed to put 2 mph on my fastball over my time here, and that just wouldn’t cut it, especially since Tufts baseball has been, and is, one of the best programs in Division III. Because I knew it was inevitable, I began making plans for myself a while before the day I was let go. Earlier in the year, a couple of my SigEp brothers had told me they were on the club baseball team. Something’s better than nothing, I thought.

First impressions were shaky, but after a step back I put it in perspective. The nonchalance was just right. The competition was still there. I could start a game every week and come out when I was tired. We were the coaches, for all intents and purposes. The game was fun again when I’d honestly forgotten how that felt: only the pressure of the game riding on your next pitch. No politics. As pure as it gets.

That first spring, my first season with club, was honestly a blur. I can honestly recount feeling great and loving the drives we’d make to the games every weekend. Still feeling the ropes, I was given the rock for our first game, literally not knowing the names of 10 of the 12 guys there. I had a good game, going the distance, and remember saying, “It’d be a shame if I couldn’t do this again.”

I’m not an overtly emotional person. (Actually, not a whole lot of things come off as genuine to me.) But, professional athletes don’t cry uncontrollably at retirement announcements because they are leaving the spotlight or ending multi-million-dollar contracts. Sports are a passion and they consequently take something away when you leave them.

Club sports gave me a second chance in this sense. I would have been missing a huge part of my life if I didn’t have this outlet. Since I was six years old, I’ve spent nearly every leisure moment of my pre-college life in a baseball uniform. My body would soon forget the motions engrained into the muscles, and my mind would judge the game as a spectator instead of as a player. My conversations about the game would become “When I used to…” instead of just “When I do…”

At some point it will inevitably happen, but not for the next three semesters. Club baseball is on the rise at Tufts and we just had our first winning season in our relatively short history. As co-captain I am one part player, one part coach, one part delegate, and one part event organizer. I’m getting opportunities I wouldn’t have otherwise been privy to and it’s great experience. Club baseball gave me a chance to keep at it. Funny the way things work out.

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