In the 2002 offseason, two things happened: My father died, and I entered free agency for the first time.



The loss of my father made me take note of my age. In the offseason, there was no game to hide in or behind, and no fans cheering for me; I had nothing but the mirror in the bathroom staring back at me for feedback. A self-assessment of my game told me that I still could run, I still loved playing, but I could no longer ignore what it meant to play a kid’s game for a living. The unstructured time forced me to explore the ways I still got to be, on some level, a child, with handlers and services provided, while those around me had to grow up and hold things together. Although baseball is a serious job in that you must produce to sustain, in-season you also must shun a lot of off-the-field responsibility to stay in focus.



Meanwhile, after years of working with the players union and embracing the sacrifice of players who came before me to help my...