15
Anyone who pictures me skipping and smiling upon my departure from Gateway has the wrong image. A self-esteem that had reached the furthest depths one can imagine could not be raised to a healthy level in the mere twenty-eight days of an in-patient stay. The goal was to improve it through sobriety and success in the outside world.
Among my early pursuits was to launch a new career. I yearned to work in a business that motivated me. It was not selling insurance, which I had continued to do out of financial necessity. My studies in addiction and sports psychology piqued my interest. I had become an eager learner. There were no college programs teaching disease concepts at that time, nor were there any that trained students in applied sports psychology so I had to become an eager learner whenever and wherever Dr. Twerski directed me. I not only used my knowledge to help me stay sober and grow mentally and emotionally into the man I wanted to be but also to start my own company. Triumphs Unlimited was soon to become a reality.
The seeds were planted when I was a volunteer with Dr. Twerski’s special groups at St. Francis. His work with addicts provided me with practical experience and a far higher level of expertise than I could have procured on my own. It was all part of my education. I liked to consider myself his protégé although it was not designed that way. I could never have approached his level of knowledge. I followed his advice and devoured books he recommended on addiction and counseling. He would then mentor me on how I could take what I read and turn it into something tangible in my life. Twerski also directed me to workshops in the field of addiction in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia that lasted anywhere from three to ten days.
I might describe my entry into the counseling field as being lovingly coerced. Twerski was like a fisherman slowly reeling in his catch, and I was at first his very unwilling prey, fighting with every tug. I made it clear initially that I had no desire to become a counselor, in retrospect due to my belief that I was unqualified. He did not pursue the subject with me because he understood that I was resistant. But he knew quite well that I loved to learn so he continued to feed me knowledge.
Soon I began traveling with Twerski to his educational talks in different towns and suburbs around Pittsburgh. I recall one hotel at which we stayed was hosting workshops for employee assistance professionals (EAP) that also providing opportunities for certification. We arrived the day before Twerski was scheduled to speak so I decided to check out the plethora of marketing material, then walked into the ballroom to sign up for a three-hour workshop. The room was packed for the event. Upon my arrival I did not even know what an EAP was.
I learned in a hurry that it was a comparatively new science embraced by businesses to help employees whose personal problems were negatively affecting their performance and production on the job. EAPs used various methods and programs to help troubled employees. Two weeks after the workshop I received a test in the mail that I filled out and submitted. Job well done—I soon received my certification as an EAP from the State of Ohio.
I have continued to attend workshops despite my status now as formally retired. I remain so fascinated by the subject, thirsting for any new research, that I sign up from my Florida home for virtual events on new types of therapy for the addicted. I harbor no doubt that I will continue to research developments in the field until the day I die.
The eventual result of my EAP certification? Goodbye, insurance business. I had made ends meet in that field—no more, no less. It wasn’t me. I felt no enthusiasm for hawking policies. My intense desire to toil in an arena of passion had been fulfilled. That achievement buoyed my self-image. I had never believed in my wildest dreams that I was smart enough or educated enough to help others. The low opinion I had held of myself for decades did not allow such a reality to come to fruition. This was a personal breakthrough.
A professor at the University of Pittsburgh suggested I incorporate Triumphs Unlimited for liability reasons and other benefits. I formed the counseling company and found a new woman—and can you believe it was another Carol? I met her through AA and eventually moved away from my parents and in with her. We lived in an extremely modest home because she was unemployed, we both had expenses, and my business had yet to take off. But soon I began making enough money to afford mortgage and utility payments. Meanwhile, a friend helped me with paperwork and advice on how to run a business. Another buddy who was an attorney aided in incorporating Triumphs Unlimited.
What helped was low rent. The town in which I decided to base my company was dying. Store fronts everywhere had signs advertising space for rent so I could practically name my price. I hired Debbie as an assistant—she had gained enough knowledge about computers and bookkeeping to be of great help. I knew nothing about computers as they started to gain importance in the workplace, and I must admit I am not much more tech savvy today.
Carol and I got married but it did not last. What did last was my new endeavor. I began promoting my counseling skills to various businesses in the Pittsburgh area. Included were hospitals, police departments, high-end stores, and unions. I was still at that time working with kids. Triumphs Unlimited did not rocket to the stratosphere. Businesspeople were skeptical. Employee assistance was still an unknown service. They had to be convinced that it would benefit their companies. I was barely scraping by. But I knew in my heart that I had something wonderful to offer. It was tough to be patient, but I stayed the course.
What was not particularly tough was staying off the booze. I found it easier than many recovering alcoholics. There were a few temptations but nothing serious. It was fortunate for me (though sad) to see others fall through the cracks and cheat on the Twelve Steps program. My three years working with Twerski and his Winners Circle group at St. Francis provided me with a wonderful perspective. I saw first hand and with a knowledge base that others dealing with addiction did not have the contrast between those who were successfully beating the habit and those who were not. I did not under any circumstances want to fall into the latter group. Watching them relapse made it easier for me to avoid temptation.
My sobriety and education in addiction and counseling could not help me in my business acumen—or lack thereof. I needed clients who believed that my expertise would prove valuable. I knew that the ideal situation for me would be work in an industry with which I was greatly familiar. The seeds for turning that dream into reality were planted one day late in 1981 when Debbie answered the phone in the little office I had set up in the back of a dress shop. On the other end was Major League Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn.
Bingo!
I could hardly have been more excited about the possibility of working with ballplayers. I had not only gained vast knowledge in recent years about addiction but had been studying sports psychology since the mid-1960s. Granted, my initial foray into the subject was ignorantly motivated by a desire to reach the heart of my problems as a person when I later confronted the reality that I suffered from a disease. But delving into sports psychology did prove beneficial in gaining insight into the science of pitching and reaching levels of focus and concentration that had previously eluded me. The combination of understanding, through education and experience, addiction, sports psychology, and counseling promised great success in dealing with a wide variety of issues experienced by athletes. I also knew that baseball players would embrace me with a level of respect unearned by those who had never competed in the sport. But at the same time I knew from personal experience you cannot sell players anything—you must prove your product or idea.
Most promising was that I could impart wisdom from the school of hard knocks both as a pitcher and a person. What athletes require to thrive extends far beyond physical skills. It can be argued that the single most important ability a major leaguer needs is the ability to consistently focus. That capacity is often the difference between greatness and mediocrity among those at the same talent level. The failure of a minor leaguer to concentrate on every task at hand and successfully get the body to do what the mind tells it to do can prevent him from reaching the Show. One must boast the ability to shut out every distraction, anything unrelated to the specific pitch or at-bat or play in the field. And the mission must be attacked with confidence.
One example for a pitcher is to focus on the precise spot to throw the ball with the supreme belief that he will nail it. Attention to the process leading up to the release of the pitch is critical. Once he receives the pitch signal and location from the catcher, he must focus on how to hold the ball; placement of finger pressure; wrist and arm action; game score and situation; where runners are on base if any and their penchant for stealing; whether a ground ball, fly ball, or strike would be best; and on what side of the field the ball should ideally be hit. All of this should be second nature for major leaguers who have been hanging around mounds most of their life. The difference for the best of the best is that intense focus upon release of the ball. If that is lost, a pitcher is destined to crane his neck watching baseballs soar deep into the night.
The level of focus required by hitters is also challenging. It can be argued that the old chestnut about hitting a baseball being the toughest task in sports is true. Major league batters must understand that the weapon they wield boasts a sweet spot approximately three inches in length and two inches in width. Contact made in any other area of that bat greatly diminishes power or exit velocity. The chance for a positive result drops the further away from the sweet spot he hits the ball. So indeed sharp focus is paramount. Just as a pitcher soaks in various factors in preparation for his windup and delivery, a hitter gains awareness quickly of the set of circumstances critical to his job. How hard does the pitcher throw his fastball? How easily can I recognize his spin rate? Should I shorten my swing and focus on making hard contact with runners in scoring position? What does this pitcher like to throw with this count? And what about the contortions of my own body? Coordination, weight transfer, body turn, swing angle, where to stand in the box. Then it happens. The pitch is on its way. Focus, focus, focus. My clear understanding that the physical assistance for any player was up to the coaches allowed my mental programs to flow easier.
I recall vividly a conversation I had with Hall of Fame slugger Al Kaline, who spent his entire career with Detroit. He explained to me that he looked for nothing but the ball and how it spun. The ability to detect spin, to know in a split-second whether a fastball or slider or curve was coming his way, made Kaline a sensational hitter. He had in his lifetime swung the bat perhaps a million times. It was second nature. His success or failure on a particular pitch or at-bat was determined by his ability or inability to recognize spin and react to it. Kaline did not guess what was coming. He knew it as the ball approached the plate.
Guess hitters face greater challenges but many have thrived. Included was my former roommate, manager, and pitch-caller Joe Adcock, who often won the battle of wits against a pitcher and guessed correctly what he was about to throw. Still others can get away with virtually no thinking at the plate. They are bad-ball hitters such as Yogi Berra and Vladimir Guerrero who simply react and swing. But they too require supreme focus, perhaps more so than those who read spin or guess, because they need to concentrate on trajectory to hit the ball squarely.
The requirement of focus for fielders is more obvious and perhaps more important for one moment of distraction can mean the difference between victory and defeat. The importance of footwork and positioning cannot be overstated. But when hard grounders or line drives come whistling at an infielder or outfielder, supreme concentration is necessary. The result otherwise is runners tearing around the bases, headed for home plate.
Every player on the field must focus, and that is where I knew my background and expertise in sports psychology could help. It must be noted that all aspects of my eventual work as a counselor to athletes tied together. Performance affects everything, not just among athletes but all working people. Those who struggle on the job justifiably worry about security. Those who fret about security often allow stress to destructively affect their personal life. That can lead to the abuse of drugs and alcohol. And addiction can certainly aggravate poor performance.
I’ve written in earlier chapters about my living in an alcoholic fog. All people are subject to short or long periods in which they hang around in a haze. Included are athletes. They become lazy or unconcerned with their level of concentration. Their minds become blank with no specific thought. They take their tasks for granted in their daily or professional lives. Such an approach for athletes can cost games, jobs, even careers. Mindlessness is far more common among amateurs or, specifically, among minor league baseball players. Major leaguers must be more adept at maintaining high levels of focus or they are not major leaguers for long. All athletes, however, are susceptible to lapses.
Baseball players are generally young people who often and dangerously choose to embrace a celebrity lifestyle. Meanwhile, their ability to concentrate and perform are tested several times every night. A running back in football can use poor offensive-line blocking as an excuse for failure. A basketball player can blame teammates or coaches for a lack of continuity on the court or opportunity to shine. But the spotlight on the individual in baseball provides no opportunity for blame. It has been said often that athletes must let go of what is left behind. Baseball players cannot think of the previous pitch, at-bat, or play in the field. They must concentrate only on the next one. But that is easier said than done. They can be overwhelmed by the pressure.
That is where I would enter the picture. All I needed was a chance. The phone call from Kuhn at least appeared to have opened that door for me.