One Last Outing

By Kumar Nambiar, minor leaguer in the Oakland Athletics organization,@kumar4123

It was my final weekend of collegiate baseball. It was the first time in my college career Yale Baseball wouldn’t be playing for an Ivy League Championship. We had been eliminated from playoff contention the weekend prior and had one series left against Princeton. My career had taken me to some amazing places, highlighted by a trip to the NCAA tournament in 2017.  It had been a great run, but I had come to terms with the end nearing.

I was our Sunday starter and the previous two weekends, had thrown complete game shutouts; they were the best performances of my career.  I didn’t want to change anything about my routine so when my coach asked if I wanted to pitch on Senior Day, Saturday, I decided against it. Sunday’s weather didn’t look great but I was assured the game would be played, even though both teams were out of contention for the postseason. Sunday was Mother’s Day and I thought it was the perfect day to end my Yale Baseball career.

Saturday was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky. Scheduled between games of our doubleheader was the annual event honoring the seniors. For the first time in my four years, our head coach had decided to emcee the event, reading off the accolades of each senior player. Our coach had called us one of the best classes of players Yale Baseball had ever seen. All of our parents fought back tears hearing our names called, thinking about all the unforgettable moments that Yale Baseball had brought all of our families. It was a special group and none of us wanted the ride to end.

At the end of the game, as I watched my roommate walk off the mound for the last time wearing YALE across his chest, I couldn’t help but think about how my final walk would feel. Would I be crying? Would I be smiling? Or would it be the end of the game, like my last two outings had ended. Whatever it would be, I couldn’t wait.

The next day, I woke up around 7 AM, as part of my Sunday routine, to find the ground covered in rain and the sky covered in dark clouds. My coach gave me a call early that morning to say we might have the game pushed back a few hours. My parents only lived an hour away, commuting to and from each game; they hadn’t left when I texted them the update.

As my teammates woke up there seemed to be a growing sense of doubt that we were going to play. I had lived with them for two years and we had done almost everything together. I didn’t want to believe them but the weather looked awful. My first thought was to check Monday’s weather. I was about the pull up the forecast and my phone started to ring.  It was my coach again; I could tell something had changed by the tone of his voice. He told me that Princeton had decided to leave and not play the last game. They had final exams in a few days and weren’t willing to wait overnight to play. I thought he was calling to tell me we were going to try to wait it out or play the following day. I was blindsided. My teammates were blindsided. Our last game taken away from us. My last game was taken away from me.

I called my parents to break the news. My dad picked up and said that he was sorry. After some discussion about the day, I asked to speak to my mom, however she didn’t want to speak with me. She had seen this coming from a mile away and when she told me to pitch on Saturday, I assured her that I would get a chance to pitch. She was devastated; that day was supposed to be our moment together. I had gotten four years of recognition and this day was for my parents. To make matters worse, it was Mother’s Day and my present to her was gone.

I drove home that night to see my family. I had replayed how that day was supposed to go so many times in my mind. Win or lose, a huge night to celebrate four years together was supposed to follow our final game.  Never once had I envisioned my family and me sitting in a restaurant discussing what could have been. During dinner, my family got to joking about how my college career had actually ended on the best note possible, two straight complete game shutouts and twenty-three straight scoreless innings. They weren’t wrong. My sister didn’t think I could top my last two outings, but I guess we’ll never know. In the middle of this debate, my dad got a phone call.

The call was from an Oakland Athletics scout.  We were all so confused why my dad had gotten the call, but the call was for me. I walked out of the restaurant to get away from the noise. I had only spoken with the scout once before and hadn’t been in contact with any scouts since. He explained that he didn’t have my number and was only be able to reach my dad. The call was to request a private workout later that week so he could see me pitch one last time before finishing his report on me. He also asked if we could do the workout on Yale’s mound. I was in disbelief; that day was a rollercoaster of emotions. I ended up getting drafted by the A’s in the 34th round weeks later but I will never know for sure if that bullpen session, which replaced my supposed to be final start, helped me get drafted. I am grateful it happened the way it did; it was the best ending to my Yale career possible.

As one door closed, another opened.