The relationship between a pitcher and his arm is peculiar to say the least; a pitcher must synchronize his thoughts with his arm as he hurls the ball at home plate in a beautiful display of raw power. Having grown up on the baseball field as well as being a first-year pitcher on the Quaker baseball team, I have witnessed many pitchers nag and complain of unbearable pains in their most sacred of limbs.I have found that the odd relationship I have established with my arm is often beyond what even some fellow ballplayers can understand. The unusual love I have for my left arm is some of the toughest love I have experienced.

That unusual love was put to the test throughout this whole year as I was constantly pushing through pain, praying that I would be able to pitch my next time out. I knew that with every pitch during fall intersquad games that I was venturing down the path of no return.

As I woke from a deep and lethargic sleep, I peeked down at my southpaw friend all bandaged up in a cast. This is a result of that nagging pain; my arm had cried wolf yet again, but it was too late. In this case, the wolf is none other than every pitcher’s worst nightmare, Tommy John surgery. Luckily, I did not end up like the boy in the story, but as a baseball player, I might as well have.

Tommy John surgery, short for ulnar collateral ligament (UCL) reconstruction, is a procedure where the damaged elbow ligament is surgically replaced with a tendon from elsewhere in the body, typically the forearm, or, in my case, an organ donor.

So I’m out a year. I bet Tommy John thinks he got the best of me . . . please. He just unleashed a passion from deep inside me that I had left for dead; I am coming back with a vengeance.

A wise coach once told me that baseball is not about beating the opposing team; you must beat the game itself. As I patiently wait for this full-arm cast to come off, those words ring true now more than ever.

Since I will not be pitching against opposing hitters for a while, beating the game is my only option. Tommy John messed with the wrong kid. I will never forget what he has done to me, and I will not sleep easy until I can step on that mound again.

With my baseball future in doubt, let it be known to the almighty baseball gods that they will have to hold me down and cut my left arm off if they ever want me to stop playing the game I love.