AJPettersen

He was there again this morning. In khaki shorts, an old t-shirt and a ball cap, he was unassuming. He easily could have been missed, but I noted his presence in the back of my mind. The first time I saw him, I couldn't figure out the meaning. He wound up and fired again and again. His easy left handed arm action suggesting he had done this many times before. The big wall in the center of the complex was his catcher, returning each throw on a roll so he could reload and unfurl another. Every pitch made the same low pitched 'thump' as the previous one. He needed no crowd, no cheers, no teammates. It was only him and the wall. Old lefty, what are you teaching me? [PRBREAK][/PRBREAK] I stumbled upon the article written by ex-big leaguer Adrian Cardenas again. In it, he details the reasons he quit baseball. Initially, I thought it was well written and interesting, but I didn't think it applied to me. While I appreciated the quality writing and the challenge to the norm, I couldn't relate to his reasoning. Then I read it again and the ending stuck out: "For whatever reason, I was never the sort of player who could enjoy a game, a play, or a hit before moving on to prepare for the next one. It was only after I quit that I wished I hadn't always kept my head down, relentlessly climbing to reach the top of the game, to fulfill an American dream. I wish I had looked up more often, even at the cost of some of my success. The American dream didn't tell me that an experience only matters if I acknowledge it, that losing yourself in the game is a good way to lose what makes life meaningful. When you're standing at the plate and you hit a sharp foul ball to the backstop, the spot on the bat that made contact gets hot; the American dream forgot to tell me to step back and enjoy the smell of burnt wood." Ex-big leaguer, what are you teaching me? So often I look for what's next. In minor league baseball, this is the steep mountain each player is attempting to climb. I slowly make my way up, but there is always the possibility of falling. So I keep my head down, only occasionally appreciating the moment, constantly worrying about the future. This can motivate, but it fails to encourage what Cardenas calls "acknowledging the experience." If I am always looking for what's next, what am I missing right in front of me? How often do you do this in your own life? How often do you reach for what's next, without acknowledging your experience? How often do you stop and appreciate the seemingly meaningless events that happen every day? How often do you enjoy the smell of burnt wood? So on a quiet morning, I have acquired wisdom from watching the old lefty. And on a slow evening, I have understood the cry of the ex-big leaguer. They both have taught me an important lesson-gratitude for each moment, each feeling, is the best way to gain experience. The quickest way to a more fulfilled life is appreciation for what is right in front of me-the feeling of fresh dirt beneath my feet and laces on my fingers. It is these present moments, on and off the field, where I find joy. So I hope more often this year I can stop and be grateful for the sounds, the smells and the moments just as they happen, because that's the way they were intended to be experienced. Whether it's professionally or as an old man throwing the ball against a wall, that feeling is never far away. Follow me on Twitter! @apettersen1

I awake with sore hands and forearms, worry and stress cause me to clench my fists while I sleep-an outward manifestation of an inward feeling. My body tenses up in a reaction to the stresses of life. The only way I am able to defend against my stress reaction is through letting go, through surrendering. The truth is-open hands are always better than clenched fists. [PRBREAK][/PRBREAK] I cut through the Florida morning fog on the way to the complex and see the sun rising over empty fields. I walk into the clubhouse to over 100 peers. Over 100 teammates. Over 100 opportunities. This small space packed full of dreamers used to be chaos to all my senses, but now it appears different. I have changed its meaning. I have dreamed of playing big games on big stages since I was a kid, but the more I play, the more I realize that the journey has been the dream all along. Recently I have wondered if the journey is about more than me. I would love to make a career out of baseball in the big leagues, it is something I strive for, but what if it's about something more? What if I could be a small piece of someone else's dream? What if a little encouragement or advice could help them make a career out of playing in the big leagues? How cool would that be? I return home to see my parents have arrived-they are on vacation from Minnesota. They greet with smiles and hugs. Their presence reminds me of the wisdom they have shown throughout my life. My mom has struggled to see me fail over and over, but she let it happen because she knew I needed to learn. She has an incredible heart and she constantly reminds me that I ought to strive to have a heart like that for others. My dad still texts me before games and reminds me to play free. He knows that in the letting go, I am able to be my best. When I free myself of stress, worries and angst, I play differently. What if everyone let go and worked, learned or played freely? What if we set aside our own stresses and concerned ourselves with the stresses of others? What would that look like? I lay my head down for the night and mark a successful day because my journey has taken an unexpected, profound twist that has left it with far more meaning than before. Follow me on Twitter this year! @apettersen1

I awake with sore hands and forearms, worry and stress cause me to clench my fists while I sleep- an outward manifestation of an inward feeling. My body tenses up in reaction to the stresses of life. The only way I am able to defend against my stress reaction is through letting go, through surrendering. The truth is- open hands are always better than clenched fists. I cut through the Florida morning fog on the way to the complex and see the sun rising over empty fields. I walk into the clubhouse to over 100 peers. Over 100 teammates. Over 100 opportunities. This small space packed full of dreamers used to be chaos to all my senses, but now it appears different. I have changed its meaning. I have dreamed of playing big games on big stages since I was a kid, but the more I play, the more I realize that the journey has been the dream all along. Recently I have wondered if the journey is about more than me. I would love to make a career out of baseball in the big leagues, it is something I strive for, but what if it's about something more? What if I could be a small piece of someone else's dream? What if a little encouragement or advice could help him make a career out of playing in the big leagues? How cool would that be? I return home to see my parents have arrived- they are on vacation from Minnesota. They greet with smiles and hugs. Their presence reminds me of the wisdom they have shown throughout my life. My mom has struggled seeing me fail over and over, but she let it happen because she knew I needed to learn. She has an incredible heart and she constantly reminds me that I ought to strive to have a heart like that for others. My dad still texts me before games and reminds me to play free. He knows that in the letting go, I am able to be my best. When I free myself of stress, worries and angst, I play differently. What if everyone let go and worked, learned or played freely? What if we set aside our own stresses and concerned ourselves with the stresses of others? What would that look like? I lay my head down for the night and mark a successful day because my journey has taken an unexpected, profound twist that has left it with far more meaning than before. Follow me on Twitter this year! @apettersen1

I walked outside to grab the mail and a little girl came whizzing by on a bike. She stopped when she saw me. I knelt down and introduced myself, "I'm AJ," I shook her hand. "Hi, I'm Olivia," she responded. She told me she was 6 years old, later I met her twin 4 year old siblings, Alexis and Ray. They were all so full of life. I saw them the next day, and the next. Pretty soon they were ringing the doorbell everyday to ask if I could come out and play. Now, each day at 4:30, we hang out. We walk and talk. I hear about school projects, about home experiments, about weekend plans. Sometimes the light can shine through when you least expect it.[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK] Spring training is approaching fast. It's a month full of questions. Where will I be this season? Will I be around at all? The stress starts to mount as the chaos of 150 guys in one clubhouse is about to commence. I get sucked up in it all, worrying about what coach thinks what and what player ends up where. But every day at 4:30 my friends are waiting for me and they don't care about those things. They remind me of myself when I was younger. The days when I would just go play, without attaching a stigma to the playing or stressing about where the next game would occur. I would live for the day and play until it was time to go in, then I would wait for the next time. Culture has a way of skewing what playing is really all about. I play a game for a living, it's the same game I played when I was 5, 15 and it's the same one I play now at 25. Somewhere along the way I started to stress about things that weren't connected with the playing. Things outside of my control. This is what makes me most thankful for my new friends-they play as I should. Why can't I be the same? They play to enjoy it and when it's over, they wait for the next chance. How simple. So I will continue to play with my friends-go on walks, ride bikes and scooters, because I know that's what I need. They will keep me playing in the present and they will stop me from worrying about the future. I have a lot to learn from Olivia, Alexis and Ray-they are who I was, and who I ought to be. Follow me on Twitter this Spring Training! @apettersen1