Who would have thought that so much of my life would end up revolving around a five ounce ball that consists of a rubber or cork center, wrapped in yarn and covered in leather? I'm talking baseball, which has caused so much pleasure, and yet so much effort, in my life. It has taken me years to master my mechanics and improve my mental focus, and while often things seemed to click, in the past couple of years there has been something missing. My fastball could only go so fast; my curveball only broke so much, and my changeup did not move the way I wanted it to. I hit a crossroads. I started losing confidence in myself. That small ball that has been my central focus for so long suddenly could not seem to fight a straight route through the thinnest air anymore. For twelve years, the same picture was painted every spring when I stepped onto the mound. Nothing seemed to change; always the same four bases, the same number of players on the field, and me. So what had changed? I had. I'd shot up a foot almost overnight, it seemed. All of me stretched vertically. I understood the term "growing pains" all too well. And while my length increased, my overall bulk didn't seem to.
It has always been a challenge for me to gain weight. Add that serious growth spurt and I had a severe problem on my hands. Standing at over 6 feet tall, I was underweight. Although I could throw that five ounce ball hard enough to register in the 80s on the radar gun, I was damaging my elbow because I didn't have the strength to support my arm. But I was determined to change that once I met my trainer, who told me that my weight could make a huge difference to the health of my arm and to my speed and skill as a pitcher. My mission this past summer, before the start of my senior year, was easy: put on as much weight as I could and bulk up by building muscle. I entered the gym in July with a mindset to improve my strength, which would advance my velocity.
