Derek Jeter started the Players Tribune shortly after retiring after the 2014 season with the goal of giving athletes a chance to put their thoughts, beliefs and feelings onto paper without the middle man. The Players Tribune has done just that in its year of existence and the latest New York Yankees player to grace the pages of the Tribune is Rico Noel. The name of the post was "The Wait" and it can be seen
HERE.
Being a base-stealer is about being a realist.
When you’re trying to steal, there has to be a balance. You have to find that middle ground. There’s a sixth sense to it, an instinctive math.
If you try to steal while counting on the best-case scenario — the perfect jump, a bad throw — then you leave yourself exposed: the right throw, in the right location, and you’re toast.
If you try to steal while fearing for the worst-case scenario — a bad jump, the perfect throw — then you leave yourself exposed as well: each at-bat contains a limited number of pitches; missing just one good chance to take the base can be as bad as making an out.
And math, in the end, is really what it comes down to. Strip away the scouting, the timing and everything in between: It’s your speed minus their throw.
When the numbers say stay, you stay. And when numbers say go, you go.
My brother Orlandus is an optimist.
He’s a goofball, but in the best sense. He’s the life of the party. He’s always looking out for everyone, checking in to see if a room is too tense. And if it is, then you can count on Orlandus: He will find a way to break the tension.
Is your cookout feeling a little uptight? Not for long, if Orlandus is there. He’ll just start … dancing. Yes, alone. No, it doesn’t matter what music is on. Orlandus’ll go — and go, and go. And then, before you know it, everyone’s having fun. It’s like magic.
Orlandus is just That Guy: The one who seemingly can create positive energy from thin air. The one who manages to see the optimist’s angle, everywhere he looks. And the one who plays his hand with a smile — no matter what cards he’s been dealt.
This past year, Orlandus was dealt some really tough cards.
In November, he started coughing a lot. He had smoked cigarettes previously, so that was our explanation for it: smoker’s cough. Nobody thought much of it.
But then he started to get some chest pains. We thought, “Okay, let’s check this out.” The doctors ran some tests.
The pains wouldn’t subside.
For the next several months, Orlandus was in and out of the hospital — test, after test, after test. The symptoms got stranger: shortness of breath … feeling like he was about to pass out … and more and more pain.
Until, finally, there was a diagnosis: Congestive heart failure.
It was worse than we could have possibly imagined.
My brother needed a new heart.
I was in Buffalo when the Yankees told me I was being called up to the big leagues.
Immediately, I called my mom. She was so happy for me. She knew what a dream it had been for me to reach the majors — and how hard I worked for it. In many ways, I think she understood it more clearly than I did. Moms always know, you know? They always remember.
It was worse than we could have possibly imagined. My brother needed a new heart.
And hearing her process those memories was when it really sunk in for me. Because she was right: I had worked hard — so, so hard. For it to all pay off, in one moment of news, was an incredible feeling.
To read the rest of the post and to support Jeter and the Players Tribune click the link, again
SEEN HERE, and check it out. Thank you.
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