A Kid Playing Ball: Cole McMahon’s Senior Story

By Cole Alberto McMahon

At the age of five, I put on my first baseball uniform. An extra-small “Paloma Valley Pony Baseball White Sox” jersey.

Photo/Roseline Lemette

Fast forward 16 years. I found myself putting on a uniform and spikes for the last time.  

As a little kid, I always dreamed big, telling myself I was going to be a San Francisco 49er, a San Francisco Giant, and even a Jedi Knight. What you find out when you get older is, dreams do not always become a reality. This reality hit me after my freshman tryout in high school when my name was not put on the list of kids who made the high school team.  

That dreaded list—I almost let it get the best of me. I am forever grateful for having a dad and mom who told me to keep going. I would have quit by now if I did not have their constant support in my corner.  

Fast forward to my collegiate baseball career.  

My career stat line looks like this: 3 appearances, 2.2 IP, 1 H, 2 BB, 3 K’s, 2 ER, 6.75 ERA, and a .111 opponent batting average.  

When I signed with Simpson, I was ecstatic to have a fresh start and continue playing baseball. My goal was to help win. By the stats, I clearly did not end up making the impact on the field that I set out to make four years ago. Four years of sweat, tears, and pulled hamstrings throughout.  

After my freshman and sophomore seasons, I continued to make the push to become a “dude” on the pitching staff my junior year. That dream came to a halt once more. But this time, it felt different. This time, I was even given the option to quit.  

After making a firm stance that I had no plans to quit, that constant conversation played in my brain every single day, even leading up to the final weeks of my senior career. What if I quit? Life would be easier. I would not put that constant pressure on myself to try to produce. Why am I still trying to play on this team even though I constantly have failed? 

I did not quit because that constant voice in my head told me no. I did not quit because I wanted to make the people who believed in me all these years proud; my parents, sister, friends and various coaches throughout the years. I wanted to keep going for them, to prove them right. I did not quit so I can prove to the people who did not believe in me that they were wrong.  

Senior day rolled around and I finally figured out the true reason why I stuck around so long. It was for the friendships and family I made with my brothers and coaches on this baseball team.  

The emotions rushed quickly to my eyes when I walked on to the field with my mom, dad, girlfriend, and two friends. I could not help the tears gushing down my cheeks as I gave each coach a hug and continued with my fellow seniors.  

Then came the last time I would be on a mound. I proceeded to throw my senior day inning in the sixth inning of a 7-inning game, only giving up one hit, and getting a roar from my teammates after striking out a batter.  

My pitching coach and former teammate, Jackson Bennett, told my teammates to “shake’em up,” alluding that my final career outing was over. I said no, I wanted one more inning. 

I began saying, “One more, one more!”  

Soon, the dugout was filled with my brothers chanting, “One more!” 

I felt like this was my “Going the Distance” moment in Rocky or my “Rudy” moment. 

Bennett looked to my skipper, Dan Tating, and he gave the nod of approval for one last inning. 

I jumped up with so much joy and broke down in tears with so much sadness knowing I was getting to go out for a final time. All my brothers were with me at that moment in the dugout—my favorite memory of that day. 

I proceeded to go out and have a quick one, two, three inning. And that was it, my baseball career was done.  

Sobbing, I hugged teammate after teammate, giving them words of affirmation and telling them I love each one.  

Besides Alex Tolbert hitting the walk-off bomb to win the Cal Pac and dogpiling, my senior day was the best moment of my baseball career, and I owe it to everyone there that day. 

That is why I never quit. 

“It ain’t about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!” 

--Rocky Balboa