What actually took place during that soul-searching journey into the mind when he attempted to hypnotize himself in front of Husserlʼs mirror? Was the reflected vision merely an illusionary doppelgänger looking back, or did he somehow invert and happen upon an inner being; a Kantian thing-in-itself; a MetaMind? Did he observe his true self from within and discover his true calling? Perhaps he was standing at the helm of destiny while staring deep beyond his reflection, freeing himself from all expectations only to hear the cry of his own soul.  Conceivably, his ascetic mental pain was his salvation and there is an essential reason for everything, or perhaps, that mirror-experience was nothing more than an empowering catalyst to a renaissance already visited; or perchance, the frightful vision was some mystical spirit; a single flash of insight; an awakening to the light of his own consciousness, an inner understanding, an enlightenment, a reaching Zenʼs satori. Why the capsizing mental shipwreck and struggles with doubt and faith? Did he witness a passionate heart or an envisioned mind with an explicit awareness of the self when he opted to return to the ball field?

His predicament reminded me of a colossal novel I once read while at college. If Atlas began to waver while struggling to hold the world on top of his shoulders, what should he do? Shrug! A chain of events had spiraled the ballplayer into a world of the self; into a realm of self-doubt, self-reflection and self-analysis; into a self-imposed examination of his own self; an introspection that led to the exile of his soul and resulted in ... self-realization. He shook it all off and his ghosts were all behind him now. No more Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Sartre, nor Camus; certainly not Socrates. Along with Husserl and Descartes, they all died and vanished when he jettisoned all his existential thoughts. No more doubts, no more excuses. No more demons, and most importantly, no more specter caused by the antagonistic and cankerous coach McCrackin. He would start anew with a clean slate -- Tabula Rosa. On page 62 of his journals, the last entry that summer, he wrote: There shall be righteousness in what I shall do. Self-determination: the process by which a person takes control of their own life.

They became soul mates but never lovers. She put a flower in her hair; moved to San Francisco ... he went underground, into hiding, then fled ... far, far away. Thereʼs got to be some way out of here, said the outcast to the thief. Two agents were approaching and the wind began to howl ... howl! ... HOWL!!

METAMORPHOSIS (Excerpts)

She took to the sidelines wearing a beaming, charismatic smile with pom-poms shimmering and quaking ... like aspens. Jaggerʼs “Paint It Black” bellowed and echoed throughout War Memorial Stadium as she danced, acrobatically, in front of a frenzied Bacchic crowd. Black and orange, crepe-paper orbs quivered high above her head as she performed leg kicks, rhythmically, like a cancan dancer in a French cabaret. With a smiley face, she sang and danced while Mick painted the whole world black ... then just faded away. Even though they grew up on the same side of the river, their worlds were at opposite ends of the spectrum -- herʼs cheerful, bright, and rosy ... his troubled, dim, and gray. Hello, darkness, my olʼ friend.

Baseball was his insulation from hell and the Godless soul of coach McCrackin had ripped away his dreams of becoming a professional ballplayer. Was this the trigger; the cause that led to a Vishnu reincarnation or was his transformation sanctioned by some higher authority? By witnessing the work of the devil, one can appreciate the work of God. Was his vision while staring into Husserl’s mirror of phenomenology a sign of victory, a la Constantineʼs illuminated cross in the sky, or was it an astral out-of-body experience more like one of Immanuel Swedenborgʼs near-death, or life-after-death communications with some spiritual entity? Could the metaphysical and spiritual offer some sort of field guide to a happy and successful life or did the Faustian ballplayer barter his soul with a Mephistopheles? Had he found his supreme self, his Brahman, or did he somehow just stumble upon a crystal sphere?

He was a born-again ballplayer. Something happened between September and the first day of ball practice held during the first week of January. In just a few months, a transformation took place, a metamorphosis, an unbeknown leap of faith, a rebirth, a resetting of his inner-compass -- a Phoenix rising out of the ashes. His protective cocoon had been torn away prematurely but no swallowtail would emerge. The past evaporated after a few months of soul-searching. Perhaps, Dante was right when stated in his cantos that one must first pass through the gates of hell to reach Paradisio ... in this case, a mental hell created by his own contriving. No longer, was he the easy-going, calm, cool, and collected ballplayer as he appeared in high school. He may have looked so on the outside, but on the inside, a blazing inferno raged while on the diamond. The game had become personal, and he now performed in a controlled state of exasperation. Perhaps, his rebellious nature would be his fall and resurrection -- his Finneganʼs Wake.

The University of Nevada Reno scholarship was offered by the legendary Jackie Jensen, former American League MVP, and teammate of the great Ted Williams while with the Boston Red Sox. Jensen, from Oakland California, was in his first year as head coach at Reno and would be considered as among the greatest athletes of all-time. He's the only athlete ever to have played in the Rose Bowl, College World Series, Major League Baseball's World Series, and in an MLB All-Star game. Known as “The Golden Boy,” Jensen was an All-American in football (1949) and twice in baseball as an outfielder (1947 and 1949). He set several football records at Cal Berkeley, including the first player to rush for more than a thousand yards in a single season. Jensen averaged .279 during his eleven-year MLB career including leading the American League in stolen bases (22) in 1954, RBI's (116, 122, and 112) in 1955, 1958 and 1959, and triples with 11 in 1956. He hit .315 for the Boston Red Sox in 1956 and hit 32 HRʼs with a .535 slugging percentage for the Bo Sox in 1958. Jensen was a three-time American League All-Star, a Gold Glove winner, and the Boston outfield of Jensen, Jimmie Piersall, and Ted Williams during the late 1950s is considered as one of the best of all-time. Van Roth didnʼt even consider his offer.

I think, I think I am
Therefore I am, I think

Of course you are my bright little star
I've miles and miles of files
Pretty files of your forefather's fruit
And now to suit our great computer
You're magnetic ink

I'm more than that
I know I am
At least, I think I must be

There you go man
Keep as cool as you can
Face piles of trials with smiles
It riles them to believe
That you perceive the web they weave
And keep on thinking free

(Edge, Graeme. The Moody Blues. “In the Beginning.” On the Threshold of a Dream. Dream Records)

Like most philosophers, he wanted to understand the meaning of life, his own in particular, and especially an existence that did not include baseball. He had turned to the masters in hope of some answers. Socrates, according to Plato, stated that perhaps the unexamined life is not worth living and that one should know thyself. Dostoyevsky felt that the examined life was an understanding of the soulʼs adaptability and its ability to recover from pain, hardship, evil, and misery. For the great Roman stoic Seneca, the examined life was to provide a meaningful goal and perfect oneʼs character. His student Nero must have paid no heed when Rome burned while he fiddled. The conclusion was a little of all-of-the-above with a subliminal splash of his brotherʼs influence by way of Kerouac, Nietzsche, Dostoyevsky, and Kierkegaard. Being would be meaningless without the essence of baseball and to perfect it would be his main goal in life, or as Kierkegaard would say; a reason for living.