JesusFreak727: College, Court, and an Uncouth Closure

Last time I made a blog post, I lived on Highland Drive, had a black sharpie-poodle named Addy, and had just begun my final year of high school. A year and a half later, Addy has passed, high school has passed, and we’re renting a small home from horse ranchers in Finley. It’s been a long time, and I can hear my readers’ cries of frustration. “What the heck!” They say. “Where’d you go for two years with no explanation?” And to my dear readers (Mom), I apologize for my undue negligence. My answer to your desperate question is this: keep reading.

After my last entry in October of 2018, I continued working towards my high school diploma and AA degree from CBC. I hardly did any writing during this time, other than that of academics. My senior season for baseball at Kennewick came and went. Soon the school year came to a close and I had achieved all of the academic and athletic goals I wanted. Around this time, I tried to get back into blogging- but decided that I was done with the name Jesusfreak727. It’s a childish name, I said to myself. No one can remember what it’s called. So I began to ponder names that would fit me better.

I asked people that knew me what a solid name would be, but none of the suggestions really worked. A few weeks passed and a decision was yet to be made. I kept asking God to put a name in front of me but He never did. “What the heck, God,” I’d say. “Don’t you want me to blog? About you?” No answer. I put a pin in it to come back to later.

Between the time of my last post and the summer of 2019, a grave and perpetual weight lay on my heart. It was the weight of the unknown and a fear of what was to come. My little sister’s future was the subject in a series of court proceedings that spanned longer than a year. Our parents’ battle for custody went on day and night with no reprieve. Every day I prayed that Rebecca would not fall into the hands of an evil man, and though it seemed for a long time that those prayers were for naught. One day in June, my mother brought me, Rebecca and Danielle together in the living room. “It’s over,” she said. “All of it. Visitation, custody, court. Our girl is safe.” Becky began sobbing. We all crowded around her in a hug and started crying too, but it was a minute or two before it hit me. Sometimes when you live a certain way long enough, that way becomes normal, and then when you’re allowed to live in freedom again, you’ve become so accustomed to it that you’ve forgotten how it feels to be whole. Well, that day I remembered.

We moved off Highland Drive and into Finley, and I started playing summer ball with the Kennewick Outlaws. We were raw and had seven players, including myself, committed to play baseball in college the following spring. We won 42 games, one of which was the state championship, and made it to the regional tournament in Lewiston, Idaho, where we got no-hit by the number-one pitching prospect in the state. If that doesn’t put an exclamation point on the end of a great summer I don’t know what does.

As September approached, I became excited and fearful and nervous- all at the same time. I knew classes would be easy enough with my experience of standard community college expectations. But I wasn’t sure what to expect out of the baseball team. Would they be cool? Would they be way out my league? Would I still love the game, even when dedicating so many hours to it?

I thought my questions were answered by Day 2. We conditioned so much I thought I was dead and ready to hang up the ol’ cleats. We had two guys quit in the first few weeks and I didn’t blame them one bit. But once the initial testing was done, things evened out and we began to buy into the program. There was a lot of running and conditioning, lifting every day, tedious drills and tarp pulls. We all made it through the fall and winter. Then the spring came, and with it was this energy that the fall and winter had lacked. It was a collective knowledge by the guys that the season would soon be upon us. When it finally did come, we played eight games to a 4-4 record- not quite the start we envisioned but 4-4 nonetheless. Based on our work ethic and talent I have no doubt we would have had a solid playoff run come May.

My first year at WWCC wasn’t all work. Living with my uncle and aunt out in the country was a blast. They kept me busy at home with the news and politics of the day, having the cousins over, going to sporting events, or doing crosswords together. They even took me to Palouse Falls and Whitman Mission, and I was able to attain the “Freshman 15” due to some great cooking! The school also put on fun events like Trivia Night and different expos and sporting events that kept the baseball guys involved with school functions. And of course, spending each day with 40 brothers never allows for a boring moment.

Once our coaches told us a few weeks ago that the season was cancelled due to coronavirus, it was difficult to stay positive knowing how hard we’d worked. But it’s important to remember that a lot of things in this world are bigger than baseball, and this sickness is one of them. Even though the season got cut short, I’m thankful for every moment spent with those men and for the wonderful place God has put me in with my future at WWCC.

So here I am now, writing in April 2020, a year and a half later. I still haven’t come up with a good name for a new blog, because I’ve decided to stick with the old one. This blog stuck with me through thick and thin and all through my high school years. Jesusfreak727 was where a young man went to vent, to laugh, to share. And even if my mom is the only person that still reads this (thanks Mom), and even if it’s a weird, uncool, hard-to-remember name, it’s where my roots lie. In this time of global mayhem, dissent, and evil, coming back to our roots might be all we can do.