Dear Vahn,
We know of each other, but we do not know each other deeply. Yet there are moments in life when someone’s journey speaks so loudly that it deserves to be acknowledged.
This is one of those moments.
As you prepare for the next chapter of your baseball career, with the possibility of hearing your name called early in the Major League Baseball Draft, I wanted to take a moment to tell you something that you may hear often in the coming months, but perhaps not in this way:
You matter.
Not simply because of your talent.
Not because of your statistics.
Not because of your draft position.
You matter because of what your journey represents.
You were not the biggest player. You were not the most physically imposing prospect. You were not handed a clear path. By many accounts, you were overlooked, under recruited, and underestimated.
Yet you continued.
You learned.
You developed.
You earned trust.
You demonstrated a love for the game and an intelligence for the game that convinced coaches at Georgia Tech to give you an opportunity.
Then you did what great competitors do.
You met the moment.
Today, many people see the success. Fewer understand the process.
As someone who has spent nearly three decades coaching baseball players, I have learned that success often receives applause while perseverance goes unnoticed.
I want you to know that your perseverance is what makes your story powerful.
I was born in Atlanta in 1976 and grew up in the Bankhead community. I was a “Grady baby”. In many ways, that meant I was born Black and poor.
In 1984, when I was eight years old, I fell in love with baseball.
I watched Chicago Cubs games during the day with my grandfather and Atlanta Braves games at night with my grandmother. That same year, Jesse Jackson ran for President. Michael Jordan entered the NBA. Run DMC emerged onto the national stage.
For me, 1984 was a year of possibility.
It was also a time when 18.4% of Major League Baseball players were African American.
Baseball was everywhere in my community.
I played at Adams Park through the Cascade Youth Organization. I grew up around leaders and giants whose names are now found in history books: Coretta Scott King, Ralph David Abernathy, Hosea Williams, Maynard Jackson, Hank Aaron, Andrew Young, and Zenona Clayton.
Their presence taught us something important.
Representation matters.
Not because someone looks like you.
Because someone who looks like you expands what you believe is possible.
Baseball changed my life.
It allowed me to play professionally. It allowed me to become a coach. It allowed me to help develop more than forty Major League players, including players such as Jason Heyward and Dexter Fowler. Through my work with my for profit business Diamond Directors and the LEAD Center For Youth non-profit sports based youth development organization, I have dedicated my life to helping young people discover what sports can teach them about life.
That is why I am writing to you.
The game needs players.
But the game also needs examples.
Right now, many young Black boys do not see baseball as their game.
The numbers tell that story.
Yet history tells a different story.
Black Americans have been connected to baseball since the earliest days of the game. Long before the Negro Leagues were formed in 1920, there was the National Colored Base Ball League in 1887. Our fingerprints have always been on this game.
Baseball is not foreign to us.
It is part of us.
And whether you realize it or not, you are helping tell that story.
As more eyes turn toward you, I want to challenge you with something that may sound unusual.
Do not try to be extraordinary.
Be excellent.
Excellence is enough.
Excellence is meeting expectations consistently.
Excellence is showing up.
Excellence is preparation.
Excellence is discipline.
Excellence is humility.
Excellence is doing ordinary things extraordinarily well.
The pressure to be extraordinary can wear a person out. It can create expectations that no human being can sustain.
Excellence, however, is sustainable.
Excellence is what got you here.
Excellence is what will keep you here.
Most importantly, excellence gives others permission to follow.
As you continue your journey, I encourage you to think about four words:
Inputs. Outputs. Outcomes. Impact.
Your inputs are the countless hours nobody sees.
Your outputs are the practices, games, workouts, and performances.
Your outcomes are the awards, statistics, championships, All American recognition, draft selection, and professional opportunities.
But impact is different.
Impact is what happens in the lives of others because you existed.
Impact is the little Black boy who sees you and decides baseball is for him.
Impact is the undersized athlete who believes he belongs because you proved he does.
Impact is the young player who learns that intelligence, preparation, discipline, and character can overcome limitations.
Impact is not measured by what happens to you.
Impact is measured by what happens because of you.
You do not have to carry that responsibility alone.
You do not have to become a spokesperson.
You do not have to save baseball.
You simply need to continue being who you have already shown yourself to be.
Excellent.
Your story is already speaking.
My hope is that you continue writing it with humility, gratitude, and purpose.
The game needs players like you.
More importantly, young people need examples like you.
Thank you for representing what is possible.
Keep going.
Keep growing.
Keep learning.
Keep leading.
And above all else, keep being excellent.
Respectfully,
CJ Stewart
Coaching Catalyst. Spiritual Steward.
Co-Founder and Chief Visionary Officer, LEAD Center For Youth
Co-Owner, Diamond Directors
LEAD and Diamond Directors are what I do.
Coaching catalyst and spiritual steward are who I am.
Cultivating growth.
Creating opportunities.
Advancing progress.
Building confidence.
Harmonizing a shared journey of learning.
“LEAD and Diamond Directors are what I do. Coaching catalyst and spiritual steward are who I am.”