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Message: [QUOTE="the Q, post: 2949818, member: 8020"] Mine lasted over a year. I was a pretty good player locally growing up. Freshman year, the first day of class the coach came up and introduced himself to me (he apparently knew who I was already). He was a damn giant. A very intimidating man for a 14 year old. I played JV as a frosh, and almost got called up after the starting catcher quit towards the end of the season (we found his stuff littered all over the locker room when we got back....no one had any idea what was going on at the time). The dude legit just up and left after getting into some kind of disagreement with the Coach during the game. Sophomore year I was a part time player on Varsity. I did ok. Wasn't earth shattering. That summer though I really shined. My team won the Senior League state championship and played in the eastern regionals (where I got to play against future big leaguer Jon Lannan, and even got a hit off him, but they won the game). I did the baseball camp circuit as well...had some interest from some pretty good local college coaches. Junior year was supposed to be my year. Upperclassmen gone, gave me lots of opportunity. I was in the stereotypical "best shape of my life." This was going to be a great year. Our team was loaded and one of the favorites to win the Class M title. We play 4 pre-season games where I just rake. I'm hitting cleanup. There's going to be a lot of coaches around because 2 seniors ended up playing college ball (one at UConn, another was supposed to go to New Haven...but something happened and he never went, ended up at one of the directionals, don't know the details...). First game of the year, I start off 0-2...ok, no big deal. About to get up for a 3rd time, getting loose in the on-deck circle...coach calls me off and has a sophomore hit for me...(his clean-up hitter). I....was....fuming. Our field was weird. it was 295 to right, 365 to left, and 305 to center...with a 30 foot net acting as a wall. Behind center field was a small walking path and then the fence to the track. The fence was probably about 6-7 feet behind the center field wall. This kid popped one up that landed between the 2 fences. 3 run homer. I'm not going back in. As I sat there, I remembered back to that senior catcher from my freshman year. He just up and left. I thought long and hard about this. My bag was packed. I untied my spikes. I was ready to do it. I stopped, realizing that doing that would mean I'd never play HS ball again. I debated it for the next few innings, but never left. Next day I get up extra early to get some extra BP in. Talk to the coach. He tells me "I'm not hitting" (after 2 ABs after earning the clean up spot in the pre-season...). He didn't speak to me again for the rest of the season. I rotted on the bench, save for the occasional pinch-hit duty. Even then, the assistant coach would call me in. In fact he didn't speak to me again until the next year during the season when I finally got to play again. (what happened to coach's favorite clean up hitter?) I ended up being the first player to hit over .500 in over a decade. But... Guess who stopped reaching out to me after that mess of a season? College coaches were now long gone. For a 16 year old obsessed with baseball, my whole dang world (and future) came crashing down. [USER=2292]@Mr. French[/USER] you're up bro lol [/QUOTE]

Verification: First name of men's bb coach