Category Archives: Books
Podcast Interview about my writing
I did this interview a while back but had forgotten about it. I just listened to it now — a great conversation!
The baseball card heroes book
So, when I first started collecting baseball cards, the Score 1991 cards of Otis Nixon and Tom Browning were the first ones I got.
I did not get packs of cards like other kids did. I essentially collected one by one. Among the first ones were Brett Butler (1992 Score), Cory Snyder (1992 Score in Blue Jays uniform), Joe Boever (1992 Score), Arthur Rhodes (1992 Score), Dave Martinez (1992 Score), Brian Holman (1991 Score), and Stan Royer (1992 Score).
I didn’t interview those but got to instead write the stories of Nixon, Browning, Herm Winningham, Casey Candaele, Howard Johnson, Bob MacDonald, Scott Livingstone, Greg A. Harris, Bob Walk, Don Slaught, Steve Buechele, Donn Pall, Bret Saberhagen, Mark Gubicza, Gil Reyes, and Luis Alicea.
Turning Silence into Strength: How I Finished “Baseball Card Heroes” Without the Support I Thought I Needed
Sometimes in life, we expect certain people to be there for us—the friends, family, and mentors we rely on to cheer us on and offer support. We tell ourselves, “If they just believed in me, I could accomplish anything.” But what happens when the people we think will stand beside us aren’t there when we need them the most?
This is my story of finishing my book, Baseball Card Heroes, even though I felt like the world around me was silent… and even though the friends I thought would support me didn’t show up the way I imagined.
I’d been working on my book for a long time—Baseball Card Heroes has been a dream of mine for years. It’s not just another sports book. It’s a love letter to the game, a tribute to the players who have inspired me, shaped my life, and taught me about perseverance. Writing it was not just about documenting baseball history; it was a personal journey, a way for me to connect with my heroes and, in some small way, become one myself.
But here’s the truth: when I started, I thought I’d have the support I needed. I envisioned long conversations with friends about ideas, people rooting for me, offering encouragement. Instead, I faced silence. No replies to my messages. No feedback. It felt like I was walking this journey alone, and at times, I wondered whether my dream was even worth chasing.
There were days when I wanted to give up, days when I questioned whether I could continue without that external validation. It’s a tough feeling to want to share something you’re passionate about, only to hear crickets in return. I thought about all those moments where friends had cheered me on in the past and wondered why they couldn’t do the same now.
I asked myself: Why do I need them? Why do I need their approval to validate this passion?
The answer came slowly but surely: I don’t need them to make this dream come true.
As much as I had hoped for that external encouragement, I had to turn inward. I had to dig deeper, rely on my own belief in the project, and trust that if I kept working, kept writing, I would finish this book—regardless of the silence surrounding me.
With each chapter I wrote, the absence of external validation became less important. Instead of looking for applause from others, I focused on what I was doing. I thought about the heroes who had inspired me—the athletes, the legends, the underdogs—and I realized that this book was about them. This was my gift to the game, my way of giving back to something I loved so deeply.
I didn’t need anyone else to tell me it was worth it.
And then, the day came. I had written the final sentence of Baseball Card Heroes. There was no big celebration. No party. No high fives. I sat in my chair, quietly, with the realization that I’d done it—despite the silence. Despite the moments of doubt. Despite the friends who didn’t show up in the way I thought they would.
It wasn’t about them. It was about me. And it was about the heroes who had shaped my life.
Finishing Baseball Card Heroes taught me a powerful lesson: Sometimes, the only person you need to believe in you is yourself. The journey isn’t always going to be easy, and the people you think will cheer you on might not be there when you need them the most. But that doesn’t mean you can’t finish. It doesn’t mean your dreams are any less valid.
If you have something you’re passionate about, something that drives you—even if you feel like you’re doing it alone—keep going. You don’t need anyone’s permission. The only thing you need is to keep moving forward, even if it feels like you’re the only one in the room.
As for me, I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. The journey wasn’t easy, but it was mine. And the silence? It just became the background noise to the story I was telling—one about perseverance, passion, and the realization that sometimes, you’re your own biggest fan.
Baseball Card Heroes is now finished, and I’m more excited than ever to share it with the world. But the most important thing I learned along the way was that it was never about waiting for others to believe in me. It was about believing in myself.
And that, in the end, is all I really needed.
People are assholes
People can really be difficult sometimes. I had an experience sometime ago with a teenager from Langley that left me wondering about the lack of accountability and effort some people have.
I was teaching this student in a one-on-one online class. The goal was to help him learn how to annotate a book properly—a simple enough task. I figured the best way to do that was to give him a physical copy of the book, A Life of Knuckleballs, which I had written. Instead of just sending him a digital copy, I wanted him to have the real thing, something he could hold in his hands and interact with.
So, I ordered the book from Amazon and had it shipped directly to him. The tracking information showed that it was delivered. But the student said he never received it. At first, I thought maybe it was just a mix-up, so I asked him to check with his guardians or neighbors to see if they had taken the package by mistake. His response? “Nope, no one has it.” Okay, I thought, let’s sort this out.
Now, I could have sent him a PDF of the book by email. But the teenager claimed he had no access to a printer. And the point of letting him have a copy of the book was so that he could annotate directly on the pages. So, I thought, okay, let’s get the physical copy to him somehow.
I then reached out to the school manager, asking if he could deliver the book to the student’s address. The manager’s response? “I don’t live in Langley, and I’m not going to go there.” That was it. No willingness to help, no problem-solving, no accountability.
So here’s the deal: the teenager didn’t take responsibility for checking where the book had gone. Maybe he was being lazy, maybe he didn’t care enough to look into it further, or maybe he just didn’t want to deal with it. Or he lied about not receiving the book and just threw it into the garbage. But either way, he didn’t put in the effort. And the manager, instead of stepping in and helping out, just shrugged it off, saying he didn’t want to go the extra mile. So now, not only did the student fail to learn how to annotate, but he got out of doing any work at all. And the manager didn’t show any responsibility, either.
It’s frustrating when people don’t take ownership of their actions—or in this case, their lack of action. I was trying to help, but the student didn’t care enough to make sure the book got to him. And the manager couldn’t have been bothered to assist.
This whole situation made me realize that responsibility is becoming a lost art. It’s not about things always going perfectly—sometimes life happens. But when things go wrong, taking responsibility and making an effort to solve the problem is crucial. Instead, the teenager lied about not receiving the book (again, Amazon’s tracking information indicated the book had been delivered), and the manager couldn’t be bothered to help.
If you’re going to ask for help or try to learn something, the least you can do is put in some effort and take responsibility for your part in the process. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when nothing works out. It’s a shame that both the student and the manager didn’t do what they should’ve. And at the end of the day, it just left me feeling disappointed and frustrated with the whole situation.
