True Love is…a Knuckleball

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Knuckleball: A pitch that has very little or no spin. It’s very difficult to control and catch. No one knows what it will do usually, which makes it also hard to hit.

Wait a second – are we talking about baseball or my current four-year relationship to my boyfriend Anthony? I know you’re thinking I’m dramatic already and that a lot of relationships are challenging, but unless you’ve dated an aspiring, professional athlete for longer than a hot, summer fling then you should probably just take my word for it that it’s a bitch of a kuckleball. Four years later, I’m much more at peace with the sacrificial situation I’ve found myself in and somewhat of a baseball buff these days. I now understand that bunts are not actually completely pointless, and that a “no-hitter” doesn’t actually mean that no one hit the ball with the bat. But let me start from the beginning of our journey, before I get into all the reasons I’m all-aboard this crazy train.

I met Anthony when I was 27 and he was 23. Yeah, that’s right. Three and a half years older and I was still roping in the young studs. I’ll spare you (and our parents) the precarious events of establishing our relationship, but let’s just say that stuff moved quickly. I was coming off two previous relationships of dead-beat boyfriends, so when Anthony told me he was a baseball player, I checked the box of “working professional” off with a haphazard check mark. I mean, the kid had golden, Kardashian skin as a male and his shoulders were as broad as my apartment doorway. I was going to conquer this feat if it was the last thing I ever did. Plus, his 12 year old ex-girlfriend was a pint-sized asshole, so I felt it was necessary to drive the point home that she lost out to a cougar. Clearly, I had my priorities in check.

I fell hard for Anthony. He was confident, handsome, and charming. So much so that I failed to recognize the short-comings of his life. I let it slide that he lived at home with his parents, held no full-time job, and that being a baseball player meant he was nasty at baseball, but really had nothing actually lined up for work. My insight to the baseball industry as a whole was about to break wide open, and I decided to stick it out because I was genuinely curious and excited for the ride. I sort of wish someone had told me that the ride would be similar to ‘The Hulk’ roller coaster at Universal Studios so I could have thrown on a seat belt, but I digress.

Here I am today, four baseball seasons later, and I’ve never believed more in him and his capabilities. Admittedly, I spent some time as one of his biggest obstacles, urging him to pursue his college degree and a full-time career with benefits – a gesture I genuinely thought was for the greater good of our lives. And he tried it. He left baseball and sat behind a desk for four months and almost lost his mind. When he quit and went back to baseball 3 months ago, I thought it would end us. How could I spend another year on the back burner for a job that we never can tell if it will pan out? But after my typical kicking and screaming had subsided, I watched him flourish and light up again. I actually was able to recognize the true talent he is, and this blog is my way of sharing with everyone how much faith I have in him. Anthony is born to do this, and from him I have learned that you should never waiver in pursuing what makes you happy in life. “We’ve only got one” is what he would say to me when we’d fight, and in the moment I could only think of the one life I was giving up to sit in the wifey-section of the stands. Today, while it is still a struggle, I accept the life we live apart and embrace the real chance he has to do what he loves for a living. We have shared a tumultuous journey together as we balance love and baseball, but maybe with enough faith, we really can make this happen.

To track Anthony’s progress real-time, visit:


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