About My Journey

From Average Arm to Pursuing 95 MPH

My story began like many baseball players—I was just a kid with a passion. Growing up, I played baseball along with basketball and soccer. Baseball stood out because it was harder—it challenged me in ways nothing else did. I wasn't naturally talented, never threw exceptionally hard, and certainly wasn't the standout athlete. But that challenge hooked me.

In high school, I didn't make varsity until my junior year. I threw upper 70s to low 80s, had good offspeed and movement, but struggled constantly with command. I walked a lot of batters, struck many out, and always seemed to get outs without getting hit hard—but I was never the go-to guy. Despite this, a handful of Division 3 schools and one Division 2 school recruited me. I eventually committed to a Division 2 college in Philadelphia and majored in Physics.

Freshman year (2019), everything changed dramatically—I tore my UCL and underwent Tommy John surgery. The rehab was mentally exhausting and physically grueling. Yet, through this struggle, I began truly learning how my body worked. This was my first deep dive into biomechanics, arm care, and understanding movement at an analytical level.

Then COVID hit, canceling my sophomore season entirely. At first, it felt devastating. But it became an opportunity—I started seriously lifting weights and paying attention to my nutrition for the first time. I was still making plenty of mistakes; my training wasn't fully optimized yet, and I had a lot to learn about proper lifting techniques and truly effective dietary habits. But for the first time ever, I felt I was moving in the right direction.

By late 2020, a new challenge emerged when I partially tore my patellar retinaculum in my left knee playing soccer, sidelining me again. Returning to pitching in early 2021, I developed persistent biceps pain. It took months of frustration and confusion before realizing it was caused by compensating for the weak hip function from the knee injury.

As I finally got healthy enough to pitch during my senior season, my college debut turned disastrous—I entered a tough spot against one of the best Division 2 teams in the country. After a strong initial escape, things spiraled fast: I ended with just 1.1 innings pitched, four hits, four walks, eight runs allowed, and only one strikeout. After the game, my pitching coach sat me down and told me bluntly: "You will never pitch another inning of college baseball. No team is ever going to want you."

Those words hit me hard and motivated me to prove him wrong. Determination rose up inside me quickly and I decided right there, in one of the lowest moments of my baseball career, that I wouldn't let that coach write my story for me.

That summer, I faced a huge crossroads. If I wanted another shot at college baseball, I desperately needed impressive stats to prove I belonged. It felt like life or death—my entire baseball future depended on it. So, I joined a summer league and threw everything I had into it. I pitched great—sharp, confident, and effective. I took those stats and reached out to coaches, determined to earn another chance.

Ramapo College was interested but offered no guarantees—they said plainly I had to prove myself. I embraced the challenge, poured myself into training, and showed up to fall tryouts focused and hungry. Each practice, each scrimmage, felt like I was walking on thin ice. I didn't just want to earn a spot—I had to. My performance was strong, consistent, and undeniable and I earned a roster spot.

Unfortunately, the spring didn't immediately go my way. My command issues resurfaced—I pitched only 3.1 innings, struck out four, but walked seven, hit two batters, and allowed nine runs. Disappointing as that was, I didn't let it define me. Instead, it drove me deeper into training, research, and relentless self-improvement.

That summer, I immersed myself fully into training smarter and harder than ever before. I meticulously researched biomechanics, pitching mechanics, strength training protocols, and nutritional optimization. I significantly improved my velocity, reaching a new personal best off the mound (88.7 mph) and hitting 94.9 mph in pulldowns. My understanding of pitch design, ball movement, and performance optimization exploded and I transformed myself.

Returning for fall ball, I had a rocky first outing due to nerves and not throwing live all summer but quickly settled in. I dominated the rest of the fall season, allowing zero runs throughout the remainder of the fall, even pitching successfully against a strong Division 2 team from my old conference. I had reached a new level of confidence.

Then came one of the tougher decisions of my baseball career: continue at Ramapo and accept the team's training limitations, or take a risk by training independently, continuing my exponential progress and chasing professional baseball. Knowing that professional baseball opportunities shrink rapidly with age, it felt like now or never. I chose to leave the college team to fully dedicate myself to achieving elite velocity and performance.

As I prepared rigorously for independent league tryouts, disaster struck again in February. I re-injured my knee during low-intensity mechanics training. It felt devastating, unfair, and almost absurd. In that moment, I seriously questioned everything—my path, my goals, even my identity as an athlete. I took a brief step back, focusing on becoming as healthy a human as I could become and a business man.

A year later, I'm back, fully committed, training smarter than ever. My mission is clear: to continue this road to 95 mph by deeply exploring and applying pitching science, biomechanics, elite performance training, nutrition, and mindset development. More importantly, I want my journey to inspire others who have faced setbacks and doubts—that real, measurable progress comes from relentless pursuit, detailed knowledge, and an unwavering determination to succeed.

I'm not done yet—this is just the beginning.