On January 25th 2013 Connor David was catching during a routine, early-season drill when a teammate’s back swing collided with his helmet at a spot few inches removed from his occipital lobe. The impact rattled his brain—he spent the next week undergoing testing that revealed an evident conclusion—Connor was concussed.
The beginning of a promising season devolved into a woeful cascade of happenstance sponsored by post-concussion syndrome.
A normally motivated college athlete fell into lethargy and lost motivation. School and baseball were a burden—sleep evasive, some nights it was non-existent. Subjectively, he felt like he couldn’t play. A kid that’s been a confident catcher for most of his life started to give up on himself—as did his coaches. The staff told him it seemed like he didn’t want be there—his scholarship hung in the balance. Connor was in a dark hole.
Eventually the symptoms faded and Connor was rescreened and given a good news gift—there was no cognitive damage. Through foul circumstance he found his academic and athletic lows—but earned himself the opportunity to rebuild his college career. He spent the summer playing ball in the NECBL and made RTS his second home on four of each week’s seven days. Weight-room devotion and time back on the diamond restored his confidence—as the fall came he earned the trust of his coaches.
Many folks are content to let a moment of unfortunate luck ruin them—those folks are doomed to spend the rest of their conscious hours sipping a sour cocktail of regret. But it’s the opportunity in those moments that introduce us to ourselves. It’s the will to say hello, shake hands with your shadow and lead yourself out of the darkness that reveals strength.
We have to hit bottom to find out what we’re made of—mettle isn’t exposed by trivial scrapes. Connor’s concussion gave him the opportunity to learn about himself and prove his resiliency. He’s proved it to us all; most importantly, he’s proved it to himself.