Deep Breath, Junior. Deep Breath.

Remember coach-pitch Little League? Like, when you’re too old to hit off the tee, but kids are too young to pitch without beaning all the batters? So they have somebody’s dad on the mound, floating in meatballs to everybody?

That’s my earliest memory of playing ball.

Back in Colleyville, Texas. The Lone Stars. I think I was about 6.

But the thing is, it’s not a memory of me crushing triples or anything like that. It’s actually more of an image in my mind.

It’s of me. At the ballfield. Standing in the dirt, off to the side.

Scared.

Or, maybe not exactly scared, but I don’t know … something.

I don’t want to run out onto the field with all my buddies. So I’m just basically….

Standing there, frozen.

You know that thing little kids do where they have their arms down at their sides, all awkward, and they kind of stare at the ground?

Yeah, that was me.

Back then, I loved watching baseball on TV. I’d always see players on the screen and then head out to the backyard and mimic their batting stances — Prince Fielder with the toe-tap, or the Pedroia bat wiggle, or Derek Jeter with that high bat and the inside-out swing to the opposite field. And, of course, I knew baseball was what my dad did for a living. So I loved the idea of being a ballplayer. But it was just….

Man, honestly? When it was gametime, I was just very, very shy.

It was this weird thing, because I wanted to play, but … I didn’t want people looking at me. I didn’t want to make a mistake. I didn’t want people to have to worry about if I did something wrong, or to see me if I messed up.

I don’t know what it was back then, to be honest with you. Even now, all these years later, I haven’t figured it all out. Why playing in games as a little kid affected me in that way. When it came to practice, it was completely different. I would go to practices, and I could do it all. No worries, no fear, not anxious about anything. Hitting, throwing, running … whatever. But an actual game? In front of the parents and everyone else? Even with as much as I loved everything about baseball, it was still like….

Aw man, I don’t know about all this.   

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Anyone who knows me well, one of the first things they’ll say about me is: “Bobby? He’s a homebody.” It’s been like that ever since I was a little kid. 

After baseball practice, I always just kind of wanted to get back home. 

It’s not like I was a couch potato, though, or on my phone the whole time. I was always outside — whether it was having a friend over, or out in the yard alone. Sometimes I’d punt a football back and forth to myself, or throw the ball up in the air as high as I could, catch it, and run. But my favorite thing to do was to grab this dented-up black wiffle ball bat I had, find some rocks, and then hit them over this fence we had in the back. I’d always try to pick up the perfect-sized rock. (It was like a scavenger hunt: Nope, that one’s too sharp. Or, This one’s too flat … it’ll curve and hit the neighbor’s house.) I’d be roping rocks all over the place back there. My parents would get so mad when the lawnmower would run over those things because they’d shoot out the side like bullets.

But it’d be … “Game 7 of the World Series, Junior up at bat. Two outs, bottom of the ninth!” And if for some reason I missed one, it’d be like … “Oh, wait! What? What’s this I’m hearing? No pitch, ladies and gentlemen. That pitch … it didn’t count. Ump called time. Folks, this is unbelievable … Junior’s gonna get one more shot at it!!!”

I had so much fun when I was little. Just playing and running around at home. That was all I really needed. And look, I definitely get why some people might think everything has come easy for me since then. I’m not mad about that. I understand it. I mean, I was blessed with great genes, I grew up in a loving family, both my parents were always super supportive, my dad played in the bigs, our family was in a good place financially. I’ve been very fortunate, no doubt.

But, at the same time, I guess I’d also say … that’s not the whole story.

With me, a big part of growing up was feeling grateful for everything my family did for me, but also never wanting to make them or anybody else upset or disappointed in any way. I always just really wanted to do the right thing, and to be the very best version of myself, in every circumstance. And that’s definitely part of what drove me to become the best baseball player I could possibly be. But it’s not always the easiest way to live your life. Especially as a little kid.

I guess the simplest way for me to describe it is: I was always a big worrier.

I’d worry about so many different things. Every day. Big and little things, but the main worry I had was about what other people were thinking about me. Or whether I did or said the right thing in front of people. I never wanted to do something wrong, or to make someone think bad about me.

And sometimes, being like that … it can eat you up on the inside.

Thankfully, with the baseball stuff, the anxiousness and nerves I felt about playing in games back in coach-pitch, over time … those feelings gradually went away. I don’t think there was a specific turning point, it was more just that I was able to experience what it felt like to go out there and succeed, and to do things that helped my friends feel happy. Things like celebrating a big hit with my teammates, or jumping around in the dugout after a huge win … I began to really enjoy those moments. After a while it was like: Practice is always the same. But games … you never know what’s going to happen! I went from never wanting to be in those unpredictable moments to … absolutely craving them.

Then, before long, things started speeding up for me with baseball.

At 12, I was this small kid from Texas who no one really knew about. But with travel ball, and tournaments all over the place and showcases, I started to make a name for myself. I had a really good summer when I was 13 or so, and suddenly I’m ranked as one of the top 10 players nationally at my age. Then, before I knew it, I’m 14 and they have me at No. 1 overall.

Now, believe me … I am not complaining about any of that. It was awesome! But, just being real, that sort of trajectory brings along some expectations with it. Some pressure. You have something to justify now, to live up to. Imagine being 14 years old and the expectation is to make the big leagues. Not the dream, the expectation.

At 15, before I’d even played a single high school baseball game, I get a scholarship offer from my dream school — both my parents’ alma mater — the University of Oklahoma.

That’s crazy.

I worked my butt off back then. I wanted so badly to be great. So I wanted to do whatever it took.   

And my dad, of course, he was always helping me to get better. I never had a hitting coach. It was just me and my dad, which, for me, was really special. I’d always joke that he was like my cheat sheet. I’d watch a game and then head to the cage with him to hit. He’d notice any little tweaks to my swing immediately, and then ask, like … “Why exactly are you doing that?” (It’d usually be that I saw someone on TV do whatever it was and then hit a homer.) He’d make sure I wasn’t trying to pretend I was Jeter or Michael Young or whoever just because I thought they were cool. He wanted me to be purposeful. 

And I enjoyed all that stuff, the work. Even when I was really little. I always did things that were … I guess things that most 8-year-olds weren’t doing. Whether it was meticulously studying game video, or, I don’t know … setting up a rice bucket in my bedroom so I could use it to work on forearm and hand strength.

My dad saw those things. He saw my drive. And he recognized that I could be special at this game if I gave it my all. He would tell me … and Mom too, and even my sisters, they’d all say: “There’s always someone out there who’s going to try to work harder than you are.”

That always stuck with me. Every single time.

My sisters would see me practicing, and they’d yell over to me: “Come on, Junior. Don’t let them beat you! Be better than them!!”

And I just remember thinking: Who’s them? Like, Who am I going up against? But I loved it. I fed off that stuff.  

“There’s always a kid in California,” my dad would say. “There’s always a stud in Florida.” And I absolutely took that to heart.

So I’d be out on the field taking a million ground balls trying to outwork that imaginary kid in Tuscaloosa, or … wherever. I wanted to do everything I could to reach my potential. I loved putting in that work. But I’d be lying to you if I said that I never felt any stress at all as a kid, or the weight of expectations. 

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Everyone, no matter who you are or what you do for a living, at some point in your life … you have times when you doubt yourself. Times when you think you aren’t good enough. And maybe if you just see me on TV, or if you only read my Wikipedia page or whatever, you might not believe this, but: I’m actually no different than anyone else when it comes to that stuff.

For me, going all the way back to Little League, there were always times when I questioned whether I was doing the very best that I could with baseball. Like….

Did I REALLY just give it my all? Like, really, really?

I have vivid memories of being up in my room, or out in the backyard, and thinking to myself: Was that really the best I could do?

When I started playing travel ball and doing the showcase circuit stuff, those feelings sometimes multiplied. It was like: Did that scout from team X see the best version of me? Or, Did he notice that hitch in my throw, or the hesitation, or my footwork mistake that one time?

And those sorts of doubts, they didn’t stop just because I got drafted second overall, or because I made it to pro ball.

I remember my first year in the minors, 2019, the Arizona League. (Uniform number 17. As a tribute. 15 plus 2, Pedroia and Jeter. My guys.) At the very beginning, I’m doing OK, but nothing spectacular, nothing special. So the whole time, I’m in my head thinking … You’re this high first-round pick. You’re supposed to be performing! Showing out! I’d be back at my apartment thinking: This guy’s doing this. This other guy just did that. What about you? This is the lowest level of pro ball, and this is what you’re able to do? What is going on?!"

Just doubts, man. Big-time.

Then Covid hits and … that just makes everything worse. But I keep working hard to get better, and I get invited to big league camp in 2021, and do pretty well in those spring games. So it’s like: Oh man, here we go, maybe. Move me over to second base, and who knows, maybe I can make the team out of camp. I actually start thinking it’s gonna happen at one point. And then, BAM….

I get sent down.

I’m not gonna lie: That hurt. It stung.

And then it was just … here we go again with all those thoughts. Am I not good enough? Can I do more? All of that on repeat in my head. 

Looking back now, it’s definitely no surprise that when I went down to Double A after that, I literally went hitless for the entire first week. But at the time, I absolutely was surprised. Like, What the heck is going on?! I’m on the phone with one of our hitting coordinators until three in the morning one night: “What am I doing wrong? Is something up with my swing? What is it?”

But really, all I basically needed was to chill out. I needed to be myself and not try to do too much.

It was like … Deep breath, Junior. Deep breath.

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When I finally broke into the majors in 2022, getting to do it at Kauffman Stadium on Opening Day was extra special for me. As a kid, I’d always get out of school early on that day and go to the Rangers game. I looked forward to it every year. (It should definitely be a national holiday, by the way.)

I don’t even remember falling asleep at all the night before I played that first game. It was like Christmas Eve.

Then, when I got to the stadium and started going through all my prep, it seemed like someone hit the fast-forward button or something. Before I knew it, I was putting on my headphones and playing my hype-up music because we were already under an hour out. (I go with mostly EDM for pregame. Usually a “Big Bootie Mix” on repeat, in case you were wondering.) And then, in the blink of an eye, it was my turn to bat.

I still get goosebumps thinking about that standing ovation our fans gave me walking up to the plate that first time. From that very first moment, this city … it’s felt like a second home for me. And I know this probably sounds crazy, but in some ways I feel like God put me here on this Earth to play baseball in Kansas City. This place, everything about it, I don’t know exactly how to explain this, but it just fits with who I am.

I felt it from the very first day.

Along with, for the first time, feeling what it’s like to have your hair literally freeze to the side of your head because it’s 30-something degrees out and you just drove in the game-winning run with a double in your first major league game and then got a bucket of Gatorade dumped on you afterwards by Salvador Pérez. 

That first big-league game was one of those times in my life when I felt like there was a script that had already been written for me. Or where I’m basically a guy playing a role in a movie.

In the next couple of years after that, though … let’s just say those years weren’t a Disney movie. After the elation of that first game wore off, there were a bunch of things I struggled with on the inside. We lost 203 games in two years. I wasn’t used to losing.

It was like: This is the big leagues. I need to be the guy everybody expects me to be. This team is relying on me to be great.

So, of course, I ended up trying to do way too much at first. At one point during that first year, I realized that’s what was going on.

But then, going into the next season … I did the exact same thing. Heaped all this pressure on my back because of all the games we’d lost the year before. And it’s like … what do you know, huge surprise … I went out and struggled the first half of that next season. It sometimes would get to the point where … you’re basically grasping for answers. You find yourself thinking stuff like, Maybe I should wear my uniform pants differently. Or, What about leaving this button unbuttoned on the jersey?  

That’s when I decided to swallow some pride and reach out to a mental performance coach I had met in high school. He got my focus back on preparation, rather than results or statistics. Just putting in the work behind the scenes, when nobody’s watching, and then … not getting too low or high based on the results.

Before I got with him, I was always so worried about my stats, and whether I was somehow letting people down. And I realize now … I wasn’t being fair to myself. I was putting too much on my shoulders, and I wasn’t able to separate baseball from life. I held onto that worry and stress even when I left the ballpark. And that wasn’t good for anyone.

When I got back together with my mental performance coach, one of the first things we talked about was giving myself some grace. And trying not to bring any baseball stress home with me.

“All right, this is how it’s gonna be,” he said. “You’re Bobby off the field. And that’s the person your family and friends all know and love. The son, the friend, the family man, the guy who is just trying to live a good, solid life. And then….

“There’s Junior.”

I was like … What do you mean?

“When you get to the field, you flip that switch, and just like that … you’re Junior.”

I loved that idea so much. Like an alter ego. You get to the stadium, and you put that cape on. Clark Kent and Superman. So we immediately got to work making that my approach: Bobby at home … but Junior at the ballpark. Then, after the game, that cape comes back off. 

And this is maybe gonna sound crazy, but that’s been a life-changing thing for me, to be honest with you. It was like magic. That simple little framing, that’s all it took for the stress and worry to melt away.

And, surprise, surprise, ever since then….

I’ve been playing some of the best ball of my life.

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On the team side of things … we’ve been showing out and getting better and better, too. And I gotta be honest with you guys: I wasn’t surprised at all by what we did last year.

I know we shocked the world, or whatever, winning all those games. That the national media couldn’t believe it.

But me?

Nah, I saw this coming. Me and my teammates, we all knew that we were on to something. And at some point early on last season I remember we changed from showing up at the ballpark thinking, like, Man, we gotta win this one today to being like … OK we’re winning today. No doubt about it.

That’s when things got really fun. We started to play for Kansas City and for our fans more than anything else. We looked up a few months into the season and it was like: Man, we have a chance to make the playoffs! And then, a couple months later, we’re poppin’ bottles and on our way into the ALDS.

Obviously, it didn’t work out like we’d hoped. But look … we know we’re close. We can feel it. Everyone on this team, we know that. We believe that. And for me, personally, there’s a lot for me to take away from the playoffs. Once again, I was probably trying to do too much in that Yankees series, trying to win the game with one swing on every pitch.

But I’ll learn from it. I can promise you that.

The more I play this game, the more I feel like it is trying to tell me something. To teach me a very simple lesson. Like….

Just got to go out there and be yourself. That’s all you have to do.

It’s up to me to put that into practice so I can best help this team get to where we want to be.

That’s what this is all about for me. Finishing second in the MVP voting? All that says to me is that I need to get back to work. Because I didn’t finish first. And, more importantly … I didn’t come through for my team the way I needed to during the biggest moments in the playoffs. At the end of the day, who cares that I led the league in this category, or had more steals than this other guy, or more RBIs, if we didn’t reach our goal as a team.

We don’t have rings on our fingers. So I need to be better. Period.

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Everything about this team has me excited for the future. But I honestly think the thing I’m most looking forward to is just being able to do more special things for our fans. Being able to bring some more joy into their lives.

Last year was no fluke. And what happens from here on out is gonna be so much fun. Not just for guys like me, but for everyone in Kansas City. So much good is on the horizon right now, and that’s a big part of why I decided to sign long-term with the Royals.

But let me be completely up-front with you right now and say that my decision was about a lot more than just our team.

It was about this place, this community.

My ultimate goal has always been to play for one team my entire career, like so many of the guys before me who I admire — Jeter, Pedroia, guys like that. And it just didn’t feel right to think about suiting up for any other team than this one.

I’m a family-first guy, and everything about this city just feels so right to me. It’s crazy how blessed I’ve been with the family that I have, my support group. Then, to land in this wonderful place … it’s beyond special. And I want part of my legacy as a ballplayer to be based on helping to bring another title to Kansas City, because I’m just extremely grateful for how this town opened its arms for me.

So, yeah, make no mistake about it: I wanted that long-term deal. One-hundred percent.

The organization and my agency, they did a great job with making it happen. But ultimately it was my decision, what I wanted. To be a big part of this franchise and community for a long, long time. I remember talking to my family back then and those conversations were all about how special this place is. Of course, there’s a lot of money involved in a deal like that, too, but I swear that wasn’t my focus. Every time I talked about the idea back then, I was always saying the same thing. “I don’t want to wait for free agency. I know how I feel right now.”

So at the end of the day, it really did just come down to…

This place feels like home.

Now, from here on out, everything for me really is all about making everyone around here proud. Giving you all something to cheer about.

And you know what, I’m not gonna lie, I’ve obviously seen what the Chiefs have done in this town recently. I’m all about it, believe me. (ALL ABOUT IT!) But it’s impossible for me to see that and not be thinking, like … How cool would it be to create a dynasty like that for KC in baseball? Like, Let’s build one of those of our own!

I look across the street from our stadium and see what the Chiefs are doing, year in and year out. They’ve got that family atmosphere, and their silent assassin–type leader in Patrick Mahomes. And, like I said, I love all that. It’s been impressive to watch. But at the same time … let’s see, how do I put this….

The fans in KC have been leaning on the red and gold pretty heavy for a good long while now.

It’s time to get some Royal blue in the mix.

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Oh, and one last thing, a little bit of an update for ya, I guess. So remember that little kid who was afraid to run out on the field with the rest of the Lone Stars back in the day?

Well, fast-forward to this past December. My wedding reception. The Wittaburger event.

Salvy in his cowboy hat, my dad doing his dad dances while Mom cracks up, my sisters performing a rap for Maggie and me, all my Royals teammates and high school buddies and family out on the dance floor going nuts. Just the most incredible scene you’d ever want to see. All the people I love and care about together in one place, celebrating and laughing and having an insane amount of fun. With Maggie and me right in the middle of all of it.

So, anyway, at one point we’re all jumping around on the dance floor and acting silly, and I get this tap on my shoulder. Someone’s grabbing me and my wife.

It’s a guy from the band. And he’s got a mic in his hand.

He’s pointing at it, and giving a thumbs up, and smiling and then … pointing at us.

For a second we’re both like … What? What are you trying to say? But then, in a flash, he’s pulled us up onto the stage. And right when we get there, all of a sudden the band starts playing “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

Like full blast. Super loud.

I don’t even know why they picked that song. But all our guests … they start going nuts — yelling and cheering and jumping around to the music.

So the guy hands us the mic, and I turn and look at Maggie, and we both kind of shrug our shoulders, like: All right, well … I guess we’re doing this.

And we start to sing.

At the beginning, Maggie, she’s just kinda going along with it a little bit. Kinda not wanting to do anything too embarrassing, I guess. But me….

There’s this one point right when we first start singing, where I turn to Maggie and, without saying a word, I give her this look like….

We’re going all in with this!

And from there it’s like … I’m in a zone.

I’m belting out the lyrics. Making a fool of myself, for sure … but having the absolute time of my life.

So, yeah … I honestly don’t know where that little kid standing at the side of the field during coach-pitch went. Not sure what happened to him.

But this season, you know what? I’m absolutely taking those song lyrics to heart. Like the movie script was already written.

Don’t stop believin’?

I’m believin’ like crazy right now.

Who’s with me?