July 4th, 2006... The Final Pitch

It was like any other Minor League road trip. On July 3rd, we played the Idaho Falls Chukars at our home stadium in Orem, Utah just outside of Salt Lake City. After the game we showered, had our bags packed and boarded the bus for Idaho Falls to play a three game series at their home field. This road trip was relatively quick, only about 4 hours. We showed up to probably the worst hotel I've ever stayed at around 2 in the morning. I mean this hotel was so bad, bug infested, dirty sheets and simply a sight for sore eyes. It became a living legend immediately upon the ball players and the brunt of all jokes to follow. Even our manager, Tom Kotchman, who has stayed in more motels than any of us can even imagine--said it was absolutely filthy and unacceptable. Nevertheless, we unpacked our bags from the bus and loaded them into our rooms because it was the ONLY hotel in the city to have rooms left, since it was the 4th of July and absolutely packed.

I never knew waking up the morning of July 4th, 2006 would be one of the most memorable dates of my life. We did our normal routine, hanging around the hotel and finally leaving around 3 for the ballpark. I knew there was a chance I'd be pitching this night so I was trying to get myself mentally prepared as best as I could, knowing my arm just wasn't right. Fast forwarding to the 6th inning, I got the call to pitch and came into the game vs. the Chukars who are an affiliate of the Kansas City Royals.

Never did I expect this would be the last time I set foot on a pitcher's mound in a competitive game. Something was clearly wrong. Delivering each pitch resulted in a shooting pain in my elbow, causing me to over compensate and completely ignore my "normal" mechanics. It was so bad that my best friend and teammate Jared Incinelli, came to me afterwards asking if I was "okay" because my mechanics looked completely different. This was b/c I was in pain and trying to over compensate and not tell anyone... trying to toughen it out and not be seen as a quitter. If anyone knew me, it was Jared since we were teammates and best friends for 5 years prior.

Needless to say, I did not have a good outing. I gave up 4 runs in the inning, including a homerun. Manager Tom Kotchman made his slow walk out to the pitcher's mound, held out his hand for the ball, and signaled down to the bullpen for a relief pitcher to come in. At this moment, a feeling came over me like never before. Any other time in the history of my pitching, I would basically fight the coach to leave me in the game. I HATED to be pulled from games b/c I knew I could get out of the situation or suck it up and finish the game. But not this time... I knew my body was telling me "it's time". So I made my slow walk off the field, only to be harassed by the opposing fans and telling me how I "suck" and all the typical opposing Minor League fan comments. This didn't affect me, I heard it, but I didn't listen to it. My mind was 100% focused on the pain and knowing that those steps off the baseball field into the dugout could very well be my last if I was being honest with myself.

As the game progressed, I sat in the dugout as quiet as can be... I was propped up on the bench, just staring. So many thoughts were going through my mind. I can't tell you the fear that came over me, the hesitation, the rejection, and the inner battle that was going on. This was a moment where I was faced with being honest with myself and possibly deciding to end my career. Something I had worked SO hard for, something I had dreamed of since I was a little kid, something many people told me I couldn't do coming from such a small town.

After the game, we loaded up the bus as always to go back to our sub-par hotel. On the bus, I was curled up in my seat and dead to the world, oblivious of what was going on around me... My stomach was in knots in anticipation of what was about to happen. We showed up to the hotel. Parked the bus. Players got up from their seats and began to exit the bus... As player's passed by me in my seat as I just sat there, they patted me on the back-- almost as if they knew what was about to happen. Many of the guys knew my arm wasn't right, so I think they could tell what I was about to do... In this moment, it's something you can not put into words. Taking my life, baseball, into my own hands and putting an end to it voluntarily. As the bus was clearing, I finally got up and approached Tom Kotchman, who was sitting at the front of the bus. I looked at him with tears in my eyes and said "Coach, do you have a second to talk?" Kotchman paused, staring back at me and seeing the pain and fear in my eyes and simply said... "It's your arm, isn't it?" I will never ever forget this dialogue. As soon as he said that, I lost it completely and began crying relentlessly and simply shaking my head yes to acknowledge his question. He said "Jake, don't worry about it, it's going to be okay and we will talk tomorrow, ok?"

The moments to follow were the hardest and most gut-wrenching of my life. I had done it. He knew what I was saying and it was too late to go back. I grabbed my bag from the bus and just continued to walk and found a corner to sit and think outside of the hotel. I collapsed to my knees. I literally sat there for hours crying and thinking of everything. It was as if my whole life passed by me. I had flashbacks to when I was in Little League, flashbacks to seeing and hearing my parents on the sidelines cheering me on, flashbacks of my college years and all the celebrations we had. Who would've thought then that years later I would be faced with this situation where my mind wanted it, but my body was telling me something different. For hours I sat there thinking about these things and continuing to face reality. It sunk in that my baseball days are over.. Something that consumed my life and I was 100% dedicated to is no longer there. What now? Where do I go from here?

The next day, Tom Kotchman and I had a nice talk after my emotions had calmed down and we both decided it was the right move. I would finish the road trip with the team, which was 1 more game in Idaho and then a three game set in Casper Wyoming. As soon as we got home to Utah, he would assist me in booking my return flight home and that was it. All the players on the team were extremely great to me as well as the coaching staff. When we returned to the clubhouse in Utah, Kotchman called me into his office and pulled about a dozen balls from his desk drawer and gave them to me as souveniers. One of the balls, however, was signed by the entire Orem Owlz team and coaching staff. He looked me in the eye, along with Zeke (our pitching coach) and said, "Jake, it's been a pleasure. If guys on this team had half the heart you do and half the passion for the game as you do, it'd be a scary thing." Those words meant a lot to me.. it told me they understood my decision and respected it. It told me they respected me as a ball player and as a human being. It told me they recognized my true love for the game and passion to play, yet by courage to step up and be honest with myself and say that it was time to move on.

I will never forget July 4th, 2006. Sitting outside the hotel, head between my knees crying and thinking... looking up into the sky seeing the fireworks explode, and remembering all the great times baseball has given me.... It has shaped who I am as a person today and I can't thank the game of baseball enough and all those who supported me and gave me an opportunity to play. Baseball is a great game--it shapes our character and teaches so many life disciplines that other sports do not. I am a better man because of this experience and my hope is to now pass along the knowledge and passion for the game that I had the opportunity to learn over the years. Do not take a single pitch of any game for granted, nothing is promised to us. You never know when your last pitch will be, so give 100% at all times and play each game like it's your last...