If you had to sum up my childhood persona in one word, it’d probably be “energetic.” I didn’t like toys or sitting still. Standing still was a punishment. (Not kidding. I shudder at the memories.) Instead, I liked sports. I remember spending my days as a kid outside in the street playing everything from football to hockey with my best friend, Robert. But nothing beat baseball.
I liked sports. I liked hanging with my buddy. But I LOVED baseball.
When we weren’t playing whiffleball in the street, we’d head down to the t-ball fields. If we weren’t playing, we were watching a game on TV. And if we couldn’t play OR watch, we’d turn on the computer and play Backyard Baseball (the best of all early 2000s PC games).
We liked to imagine how our epic careers would play out; how one day we’d be immortalized as one of the greats in baseball history. When we came up to bat, we imitated our favorite players—whether it was Rocco Baldelli, Carl Crawford, Jim Thome, or Gary Sheffield. Sometimes Robert’s favorite player would change, but Reggie Jackson typically remained at the top of his list. For me, there was no one who could beat Ted Williams.
Why Ted? Well, I mentioned I loved baseball, right? For a kid as obsessed with the sport as I was, it wasn’t enough to play, watch, talk about, and dream about baseball. I wanted to study it as well. There was one MLB documentary, Hitters on Hitting: Finding the Sweet Spot (2001) that I must have watched hundreds of times. It detailed the science behind hitting, different approaches, and what we could learn from the greats on how to hit a baseball. They interviewed Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Tony Gwynn, and others. And all of them looked up to Ted.
When I got a little older I received a book from my uncle that quickly became a favorite: The Complete Baseball Almanac. The massive book had the stats of every player and every team from the institution of Major League Baseball until the mid-2000s. Of course, one of the first players I looked up was Mr. Ted Williams himself, #9 Boston Red Sox (1939-1960). Then I memorized his stats.
As it turned out, memorizing his stats would give me one of my favorite nicknames of all time.
I was at a baseball camp when the new-to-the-Tampa-roster Ben Zobrist decided to quiz us 10 and 11-year-olds on our knowledge of baseball history…
Ben: Who was the last player to hit .400?
(my hand SHOOTS in the air)
Me: Ted Williams
Ben: Ok, what team did he play for?
(hand shoots back in the air)
Me: The Boston Red Sox.
(Ben pauses, thinking of a harder question* #challengeaccepted)
Ben: Ok, where did he manage when he was done playing?
Me: The Texas Rangers, but before that he served in World War II as a pilot.
Ben (laughing): Alright Baseball Encyclopedia, I’m not asking you anymore questions.
I felt flattered. It was a great moment.
Ted stayed with me through my playing career. I wore his number, #9, all the way up until high school when I changed to #19. He had a profound impact on my life. Not just by inspiring me with his talent and skill at bat, but also in his love for the game. It fueled my love and dedication to the sport and is something I continue to take with me in my work and my passions.
Raw talent will get you far, but it’s combining it with hard work, dedication, and practice that turns a path full of potential into one of legendary execution.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, Ted Williams is still the last player to hit .400.
