I've been where you are. And I've been where you're trying to go.

Coming out of high school, I was told I shouldn't sign for less than a certain number. Then my senior year ended without a single call. No draft. No opportunity.

I carried that frustration into college. I barely played my freshman year — even though I felt like I had earned it. That disconnect between what I believed I deserved and what was actually happening on the field started eating at me.

Then it happened again. My junior year, I was told I was going to get drafted. I didn't.

By my senior year, the disappointment had turned into something heavier. I felt like a failure. I fell into a depression. I was angry, embarrassed, and completely lost — and I hid it well. On the outside, I acted like everything was fine. Inside, I was spiraling.

Because I didn't know how to process that headspace, I made bad decisions — on and off the field. Those decisions played a role in me not getting drafted a second time.

After I graduated, I quit baseball for six months. I didn't know who I was without the game.

Eventually, I did something I never thought I'd do. I went to an open tryout for independent ball. My ego was gone. All I wanted was another opportunity.

I got one. And I built a real career out of it — facing first-rounders, big leaguers, and some of the best arms outside of the MLB. Over 100 professional home runs. Two-time All-Star. Years that shaped how I see development now.

Not understanding why things are happening. Not knowing what to focus on when things go wrong. Blaming confidence, luck, or other people instead of learning from the hard moments.

Some luck does matter in baseball. But blame slowly kills confidence.

What I wish someone had told me back then wasn't to hype me up or tell me I was special. I wish a coach had helped me see my failures as information — not dead ends. As places to build — not places to quit.

That's why I coach the way I do now.

I'm intense. Not because I want to break you — because I care about your growth.

I'm going to push you. I'm going to hold you accountable. I'm going to ask you to be disciplined in your training, your preparation, and how you carry yourself.

Not because I expect perfection — but because I believe accountability and discipline are what separate good players from great ones.