Mason’s Musings: Getting Through The Fog

As the Dodgers prepped for their World Series matchup against the Blue Jays in late October, one man was unexpectedly left off the roster. Alex Vesia was a vital piece of the Dodgers’ bullpen, throwing 59.2 innings during the regular season with a 3.02 ERA, a 34% strikeouts and registering 25 holds and five saves. The announcement from the team stated that Vesia was dealing with a “deeply personal family matter” and his return to the mound for the World Series would most likely not happen. 

After the Dodgers clinched their second straight World Series championship, Vesia and his wife posted on social media that their newborn daughter had passed away on October 26th.

“Life can change in an instant.” 

-Alex Vesia

Those were the words that made me crumble when I heard them because I have been there. 

Those were the words I told myself when I tried to pick up the pieces as my world was crumbling around me. 

Tomorrow will mark the nine-year anniversary of my son Lincoln’s birth and death. There isn’t a day that goes by that I do not think of those hours, I say hours because I was not blessed with any more time than that. This wasn’t the first time either. Two years prior, my wife and I went through a similar loss with our son Josiah. They were the most devastating experiences of my life and they broke me as a man. I am still broken. I don’t know that I will ever be whole.

The aftermath of those losses were almost as devastating for me. I went to therapy with my wife and on my own, but the pain was still overwhelming. I was lost and surrounded by a thick fog of grief. I did what I could to move forward: go to work, go to meetings, take care of my wife and eldest child, but that fog made it difficult for me to accomplish any of those things well. When I looked at my family, I saw my sons. When I sat at my desk at work or in a meeting my thoughts drifted to them. I did my best to support my eldest and my wife, but I know that what was my best in those moments was not enough. I was lost in the fog and I didn’t have the tools to walk out of it. 

I struggled tremendously. I shut down emotionally in part because I felt I had to “be strong” for the people in my life, but also because I couldn’t process the pain I felt without falling apart myself. The best I could manage for myself was distractions and the best distraction I had was fantasy baseball. I threw myself into my podcasting and writing. I went from one weekly podcast and a weekly article to podcasting multiple times a week and writing as often as I could. It allowed me to focus on something that didn’t remind me of the pain I was in. It wasn’t the healthiest thing I could have done, and in hindsight, it was unfair to my wife and eldest child, but it was what I knew. It was what kept my head above water. It let me navigate the fog. In many ways, fantasy baseball saved me from myself. It saved me from being consumed by grief. 

I used this time to fuel my content. I wrote and podcasted more. I developed TGFBI, got a larger role at RotoGraphs, and joined the Sleeper and the Bust podcast team. I built real relationships within the industry and some of those turned into genuine friendships and opportunities. I did enough to help me stay afloat until I was ready to face what I had been through. Would I recommend that for others? Probably not. I should have faced my grief head on, but I wasn’t yet in a place where I could. Fantasy baseball was my crutch until I could walk again on my own. 

When you ask a fantasy baseball player why they play the game often they will tell you that it is to have fun, for the competition, the bragging rights or the camaraderie with their teammates. However, just like baseball can be more than just a simple pastime, so can fantasy baseball. It not only brings us joy, but it can carry us through grief and loss. Fantasy baseball has given me so much and is more than just a game. I found a career that I continue to pursue. I found a distraction from life that I needed in those moments. I found a passion for the game and delivering content to others who also love this game. More importantly than those things, it has given me a community that I truly needed in my life. 

In my time in this industry that I love so much, I have been pretty open publicly about my struggles in my past and my present. I don’t do this because I am looking for sympathy or attention. I discuss these things publicly because I know that others have and will go through them. When I did, I felt alone. The truth is that we are not alone. Often when people struggle, we do it silently. Maybe it’s because we don’t want to burden others with our problems or because it is too tough to vocalize. In the moments that were the toughest for me, I had people who helped me get through. Some of them were family, some were friends, some were colleagues, and some were leaguemates. 

Upon his return to baseball in spring training, Vesia spoke about the support he received from the organization, his teammates, and the fans. He also spoke about the importance of getting help and speaking about what you are going through. This season he is honoring his daughter by wearing a glove with her name stitched into it, which is a beautiful homage.

If you take anything away from this piece, I hope that it is that our silly little game can be more important than we often realize. Yes, it is a way of entertaining ourselves or having bragging rights over your buddy, but sometimes it can be the reason people keep going or a way for them to find a way out of the fog. 

Mental health matters. Make sure you check on the people that matter to you, including the person who sniped you on Chase DeLauter in the 16th round. If you are in your own fog, reach out to someone whether it be family, a friend, the guy in fifth place in your league or your friendly neighborhood fantasy analyst.