Joy in The Chase, Zest in The Pursuit

“When things don’t come easy, there should be no premium placed on effort. There should be joy in the chase, zest in the pursuit.” -Branch Rickey

I first heard this quote in Hampton, VA playing for the Peninsula Pilots and one of the best coaches I ever had the opportunity to play for, Hank Morgan.

He recited it to us the first day in the clubhouse and it has stuck with me ever since.

For Hank, it is more than just a quote. It embodies how he approaches his life.

Hank, better known as Hammerin’ Hank to Virginia Beach natives, is one of the most fascinating dudes I’ve ever been around.

Standing at around 5’10, no more than 170 lbs. soaking wet, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow and slight Southern Virginia drawl, Hank is…different.

Let me take a step back. When you play college baseball, playing does not typically end after the Spring season.

After the Spring, you are sent to a “summer ball” league where you move somewhere in the country with a “host family” to play a full summer season.

It sounds crazy to go somewhere you have never been, move in with complete strangers, and play with 25 other dudes from all around the country.

You’re right, it is crazy.

The Summer after my Junior year, I was told I was going to Hampton, VA. Not to be confused with THE Hamptons, in Long Island, NY.

I knew nothing about Hampton other than it was close to Newport News, a hot bed for athletic talent (Allen Iverson, Michael Vick, etc.)

I packed my bags, got in my White Volvo sedan and headed south for six hours, destination: War Memorial Stadium.

When I got there, guys were rolling the tarp off the field after an ever so common Southern Virginia summer thunderstorm.

Afterwards, we met as a team in the clubhouse where Hank and his father Henry, the owner of the team, set expectations for the Summer.

You know the feeling you get when you’re around someone who legitimately enjoys what they do and all the little things that go into it?

You can feel the conviction and energy in how they show up and communicate with you. It is palpable.

The Morgan family has that. Hank’s Dad Henry, an extremely successful business man in the Newport News area, bought the team years ago as a hobby, from what I understand.

He named his son the manager and let him run with building a winning culture on the field.

Your first inclination when you hear “successful business man…bought baseball team…named his son the coach” might be — here’s another example of a Dad giving his son the keys to the Mercedes, deserving or not.

That couldn’t be further from the truth in this instance.

The thing about Henry, Hank, and the entire Morgan family is they legitimately care about people. They put the person first and everything else comes after that.

I believe it is a huge reason why they have built a winning culture and rallied a community around a summer collegiate baseball team.

Hank is the definition of a “players coach.” Growing up in Philly, players used to say this about Charlie Manuel, manager of the World Champion 2008 Philadelphia Phillies. Guys gravitated to him.

So many coaches, especially at the college level, make it about themselves. They make it about winning games, regardless of how it is done.

What makes Hank different is the confidence he instills in you. He makes playing the game fun.

Don’t get it twisted, he is one of the most competitive SOBs you will ever meet, but he truly loves his guys and it shows.

Now, Summer ball is usually pretty laid back. Typically, some guys care more than others. Some guys actually want to be there and play, and a handful want to go back home and hangout with their girlfriends.

Our team had some dogs.

One night, we were playing the Edenton Steamers (our biggest rival) in North Carolina at their place.

It was your typical summer ball game…until it wasn’t.

One of our guys got slid into pretty hard at second base. Some words were exchanged, things got broken up - whatever.

Naturally, the kid who slid in hard’s next AB, we threw at him (we already didn’t like him, so it was justified either way).

He of course took exception to this. More words exchanged, but again, things were broken up.

Our second basemen’s next at bat is when one of the wildest / most adrenaline pumping moments on the field I can recall ensued.

The first pitch of the At-Bat, their pitcher (trying to hit our guy) threw a fastball 5 feet over his head.

Our guy, without hesitation, spiked his bat, tossed his helmet, and headed out towards the mound, full steam.

I wasn’t playing that day, but I remember my first thought from the bench being:

“Oh shit, this is happening.”

The benches flooded onto the field, bullpens emptied, and punches flew for what seemed like 20 minutes (probably only lasted for two minutes tops).

Jerseys were ripped, blood was shed.

There were a number of ejections, but we finished the game and got back on the bus to head back home two hours to Hampton.

When we were finally settled on the bus I’ll never forget how the skipper, last to get on, addressed us.

He said something along the lines of the following:

“Alright guys, listen, there’s probably going to be some suspensions. We’ll figure that stuff out with the league. Now we never want something like that to happen. It sucks that it did. That’s not what the games about.”

“But if they’re going to fight us like that, we’re gonna fuckin’ fight back.”

Cheers erupted, a number of “hell yeahs” were exclaimed.

This dude had our backs.

You knew he was going to be in the trenches with you and stick with you in battle every night.

It turned out to be one of the most memorable summers of my life.

Extremely competitive baseball, huge crowds, lifelong relationships, and countless lessons learned.

All because of the guy leading the pack. It starts at the top.

The final game in Hampton was a loss to the now world-famous Savannah Bananas in Game 3 of the Championship Series.

Whereas most guys playing summer ball around the country couldn’t wait to get back to their hometowns to drink beers with their buddies, guys on our squad had tears in their eyes after a crushing defeat.

Hank embraced each of us, thanked us for laying it all out there, and told us he loved us.

I’m not sure whether it is a lesson in leadership or just about how to treat people, but Hammerin’ Hank did it right.

He knew what it took to get the best out of each individual guy and build lasting relationships.

When things don’t come easy, there should be no premium placed on effort. There should be joy in the chase, zest in the pursuit.

Life ain’t always easy. It’s not supposed to be. But when things get tough, we shouldn’t simply try harder.

Sometimes, we need to take a step back, breathe, and reassess.

We should be grateful for the opportunity to pursue something meaningful and all the trials and tribulations that come along with it.

We should be fired up by the little things, because the little things are ultimately the big things.

The process and the grind are a privilege. Zest in the pursuit.

Thanks for taking the time to read. Til’ next time.

-JP