Letter To My Younger Self: Teige Halligan

Dear 11-year old Teige,

This letter is out to the kid who thinks the Bainbridge Island Little League Arizona Diamondbacks are the coolest thing ever.

You love baseball, we both know that. And you won't be told now, but....

You were terrible.

Your parents had no faith in your athletic career in baseball, but who cares. You were having fun and they enjoyed watching you struggle to throw a ball straight and make contact with a baseball, because you were having fun.

By the time you got up to 13u, your coach would ask you to pitch. He knew you had an arm for your age and he wanted to test you out on the mound. You go, "coach, are you sure?" For the past years you've earned the reputation as the kid who can throw hard, but not accurately. Like at all.

Your first outing will include a lot of inside 2-seam fastballs and 2 hit batters, but all your outs were strikeouts. But who cares, Teige, you'll get better, trust me.

"Those 2 weeks turned into 2 years of agony."

Jump ahead to your freshman year, you're going to a school called O'Dea in Seattle, which is weird for you now, but trust me it was the right choice. you'll be so pumped to tryout for the baseball team that you've wanted to be a part of since the beginning of 8th grade. You go out ready to compete for an outfield spot against guys like Tyler Bugbee, and Teddy Schulte, guys who you play with today.

You'll head out to throw, but you're so nervous and pumped that all you do is throw as hard as you can during the warmup. Everyone is confused to why you're throwing so hard, calling you a tryhard and wanting you to "tone it down," but that's the only way you know how to play, 100% all the time.

You'll make the team as an outfielder, you'll have a good first week of practice, and you look forward to your first game next week, hoping you'll play.

Then freshman head coach, Chambers, will sit the team down after practice and tell you that the practices and games have been postponed for now, due to something called COVID-19.

2 weeks they said.

Those "2 weeks" turned into 2 years of agony. You weren't supposed to go outside for the rest of the year. No contact with people unless you wore a mask and stood 6-feet apart.

But, Teige, you'll see this as an opportunity.

You'll take your chances. You went to Bainbridge High School's field to work.

Every day you'll be up there, with your dad leading you towards the path of success with hard calisthenics and constant core work.

He'll teach you how to earn success through consistent hard work. He'll build you a gym in the garage because you'll so badly need to gain weight. 130lbs as a sophomore in high school with aspirations to play college baseball is not ideal.

Then comes the bad news.

I know you think you worked your butt off, but, you're going to get cut from the baseball team. You won't take the news lightly.

I wish I could tell you this turns into a heroic comeback story, but that's only half true.

You'll take an unhealthy approach to the situation, digging yourself into a hole of stress. You didn't give yourself a breath, you went right back to work and you didn't stop, for awhile.

Dad will finally sit you down and tell you to give it a breath, you tell him no. There's nothing that'll convince you to stop. But eventually, you'll start distancing yourself from your family, your friends.

Your parents say they're getting a divorce a month before your birthday.

The regularity in your world starts crashing down, and now that hole that you dug is not so far down no one can hear your cry for help.

A year later you'll decide to do something about it. You'll decide that your mentality needs to change now.

You'll decide to dedicate your LIFE to baseball, not just make it a passion project, but to have it be the main focal point of your life.

"Be patient, Teige, you'll get there."

You'll play JV baseball your junior year as a pitcher only, wow, who would've thought. Definitely not you.

You'll lift more, and dedicate more time to your craft, as a pitcher now, me now still can't believe it.

Then, you'll get a text from a man named Dan Bower.

Apparently, coach Bower liked your performance at a Centralia PBR event.

He asks if you're interested in being a 2-way player, playing outfield and pitching. It's a dream come true.

Then you come into the high school season as a senior, loaded with confidence from the $500 scholarship offer you received from Centralia JUCO.

Senior year you struggle with command posting 16 walks, 16 strikeouts. Almost reminiscent of how you started your career.

But eventually you'll find yourself sending your team to the state semifinals by closing out a game against Eastside Catholic in Kennewick. Making the trip down there worth it for everyone.

Now as I'm writing this, we play that semifinal game tomorrow, ready to head onto championship game, and win yourself a ring.

Be patient, Teige, you'll get there.

Keep rockin'