The present is the past is the future

During the spring of 1997, almost exactly 19 years ago, I had a tough decision to make about my future. College was fast approaching in the fall and I had narrowed my options down to two: Hamline and Minnesota. Two very different universities that would in all likelihood allow for very different college experiences. Hamline offered the chance to continue to play baseball and soccer, two of my favorite things in the world, at a smaller, intimate campus. Minnesota was where two of my best friends were headed, along with several others from Wausau, and presented more of a "there's no telling what might happen" possibility for the next four(ish) years. What I basically had to decide was this: How badly do I want to keep playing sports competitively and have this make up a large chunk of my college experience?

I went back and forth a few times, but ultimately I chose Minnesota. I decided to close the door on having sports occupy so much of my time and energy. My college years were supreme, memorable and life changing. No part of me believes I should have chosen differently. But there are still moments, even today, where I can't help but wonder. What if. What if I had gone to Hamline and continued to play baseball well? I played in three Wisconsin state tournaments, when I was 12, 16 and 18. I had mashed the ball as well as anyone on the field. I was a 2nd team all-state selection my senior year of high school and there was little reason to think I couldn't play well in college. 

The hope for most that take up sports at a young age is that you can play long enough to reach your ceiling. Be it middle school, high school, college or beyond, there typically becomes a point when you can say to yourself, "Ok, this is as far as I go." Be it desire, injuries or overall talent, the time comes for everyone. A tiny percentage ascend to the professional ranks in their particular sport and break all the rules. But the road ends for almost everyone else.

This wasn't necessarily the case with me. The summer before college I played some of my best ball and was a key cog in our American Legion squad getting 3rd place at the state tournament in August. When we lost that final game, that was it for me. Five of my teammates were going to play in college. But I had made the decision that meant my "career" was over. As I left the field and approached my parents, it all hit my at once. All the innings, all the fields, all the games. I started sobbing the exact moment I reached them. Good bye, baseball.

Nineteen years later, the memories are still fresh. They swoop down less frequently now, but they still land on me from time to time. Certain plays, good and bad, are still there and always will be. I remain confident that I took the right path. But where did the other one lead?

Well now, as a 37-year old, married father of two, I am about to head down the unkown road. Not the baseball path. That one was walled off long ago. But another path has emerged over the last ten years. It has been paved with heavy gravel at some times and sticks and stones during others. But right now, there is smooth cement for as far as I can see. I have no idea where it leads, what dead ends I will find and unexpected turn offs that will loom. But this time, there won't be any wondering. 

That "what if?" question will be answered.

And maybe, just maybe, if things break right, if I find my rhythm, I can put all of the pieces of this puzzle together. And I will finally find out if being a professional poker player is my calling.