The Importance of One - Teo Spadaccini
Teo Spadaccini is a senior at Phillips Academy Andover. Teo recounts his nerve wracking recruitment path towards D1 baseball, and how he ultimately will play for Yale next fall.
What I love most about baseball is how it boils down to the smallest of things. One error, one hit, or one bad call can change the outcome of a game or season. For me, it was one inning that changed my life from being unrecruited, hopeful to play anywhere at the next level, to having my pick at prestigious universities that I could have never dreamed of being admitted to, much less playing baseball at.
Being placed on the junior varsity baseball team as a sophomore at Phillips Academy Andover, a part of me wondered if it were even possible for baseball to be a part of my future. I thought of all of the hours I had put in – fine-tuning my mechanics, early morning practices and late night games, all of the summers my family had sacrificed traveling the country for tournament after tournament – and wondered if it had been worth it. It was heartbreaking for me to have these thoughts cross my mind because for as long as I could remember, it was always baseball. There was no greater joy to me than fielding ground balls with my brother in the backyard, or learning how to throw a curveball with my dad. To even consider that my love was fading was a lot to handle. Thankfully, after a solid summer season before I entered my junior year, I was able to regain the confidence I had lost and was determined to play at the varsity level and continue to pursue my dream of playing baseball in college.
In the fall I found myself in a meeting with my head coach at Andover, Kevin Graber. I had requested to meet with him because I was curious as to where I stood as a player who could potentially be on his roster for the coming spring. He told me flat out that my spot was not secured and that I still had a lot to prove to him as a player. His main area of critique and concern was my fastball as it lacked velocity to play at the high school level and also had an unintentional cut-action making it even slower and easier to hit. The meeting motivated me to get to work. I found myself in the gym more frequently and during throwing sessions with my teammates and focused on trying to fix the spin on my ball. After working tirelessly with one of my teammates during the fall, KG noticed my improvement during winter bullpens and introduced me to the pitch that took me to the next level: the slider. Because of my natural cut action, I was able to very quickly pick up a slider with the help of KG. He boosted my confidence in the pitch from the get go, telling me it was my “out pitch” and that it was going to be the most devastating pitch in the country. While he may have been exaggerating to improve my confidence in the pitch, it was still super effective and having a second pitch was my first step towards getting recruited.
The spring that followed was incredible. Winning a championship was one of the best feelings ever and every minute of practice in the winter and spring had felt worth it when we were dogpiled on our home field. As for my individual performance, I was a bit underwhelmed. I was the only pitcher on the roster that didn’t record a start. I was trying desperately to get noticed by division three schools, sending them video from the sparse relief innings that I pitched.
The first 2 weeks of my summer were spent at the New England Baseball Complex practicing with my travel ball team, the Ruffnecks. We practiced every morning, preparing for the long tournament schedule we faced through August, every player on the roster fighting for their dream of playing college baseball as I did. That’s when we held our “Scout Day,” an intersquad scrimmage where our coaches had invited a long list of college coaches to come and watch us play. The goal was for this game to be a conversation starter, and for my teammates, that is how it worked out. For me, Scout Day was a disaster. When I took the mound, I was nervous, feeling the eyes watch me toe the rubber. The first hitter that I faced was a high school teammate of mine and the at-bat ended in the worst way possible: a walk. The next hitter walked as well, then an error followed, a hit, and then a home run sailed over the fence. As I watched my teammate round the bases, I realized that any chances of using this opportunity to get my foot in the door was squandered and as expected I received not one phone call, text, or email. As much as I thought my recruiting chances were over, optimism shined when one of my coaches approached me. “87” he said, referring to my fastball velocity. It was a lone highlight in a day that had otherwise gone poorly, and left me with some hope to be seen.
Our first tournament was held in New Jersey where I was instantly shocked to see the list of colleges that were in attendance. I was surprised when I read names like Duke, Harvard, and Columbia though I assumed none of those coaches would be coming to our game. I was slated to relieve, same as I had the entirety of the spring, and when the fifth inning rolled around I took the mound. From the very first pitch of warm-ups, I watched as more people surrounded the backstop and watched radar guns get lifted and people murmured from behind the netting. The first hitter I faced ended in a three pitch strikeout — it felt almost too easy, he swung late and then looked foolish on a slider. The next hitter followed the same order, striking out on three pitches, and the third managed a foul ball but still fell victim to the strikeout. That was the end of the game, however, we took the victory via mercy rule. While I was helping clean out the dugout, one of my coaches introduced me to a coach waiting outside the field. He shook my hand, confirming my contact information and assured me he would be in touch. I was in shock. After throwing one impressive inning, I had already drawn in a division one school.
The following morning, I woke up and my phone was nowhere to be seen. My brother had taken it, saying that my parents and he were curious if there were any new contacts. I was amazed to hear that Columbia had texted me asking for a phone call. The day that followed brought more and more surprise with every text, and as I sat in the backseat of the car driving back from New Jersey, I had made nine new contacts. After only a week, I had received my first offer from Cornell. A day later, I received a call from Yale. It was the coach’s first day on the job and I was lucky enough to be his first recruiting call as a division one head coach. The weeks that followed were equally hectic — coaches in attendance at every game and my phone blowing up with new texts every day. I visited Cornell, Duke, Yale, Columbia, and Harvard within a span of three weeks, and when the traveling was finally over, I was exhausted. I was able to make the really difficult decision with the help of my family, and after I decided on Yale, I realized how quickly I had gone through the recruiting process. I reflected on how the one inning in New Jersey had flipped my life upside down, and was grateful that all the hours I had put in had paid off.
