Mitch Harris
I’ve interviewed a lot of ballplayers, but I’ve never talked to a guy who’s both driven a Navy warship and pitched in the big leagues. Mitch Harris did both. We covered everything—from playing catch with a Dominican cook on a Navy flight deck, to striking out Adam Lind in his MLB debut after a five-year gap from competitive baseball. But what stuck with me most was his mindset: impossible isn’t real—just improbable. Mitch’s story isn’t just about grit. It’s about heart, faith, and the sacredness of sharing the moment with people who helped get you there.
Mitch, have you ever had a chance to look back on the path you traveled—and what it took to get to the big leagues?
It was a far-fetched goal. The dream of playing in the big leagues feels unlikely enough, but add the Naval Academy and active duty? Even more so. But one of my guys in the Navy flipped it on me—he said, “You’re always pushing us to chase our dreams. What about yours?” That lit a fire in me. I wanted to show I could do it the right way.
How much did the Navy’s structure prepare you for baseball?
A lot. In the Navy, you wake up at the same time, eat, work out—every day’s the same. Baseball’s similar. That routine and discipline helped me stay focused and keep improving.
Why the Naval Academy instead of straight to pro ball?
I wasn’t good enough out of high school. A football recruiter saw me throwing a bullpen, talked to my coach, and said I might be a good fit for the Academy. Two weeks later, I went on a visit. That was it.
How hard was it to hold onto the baseball dream during active duty?
Really tough. I didn’t know if I’d ever get a shot. But my sophomore year I turned a corner, went to the Cape Cod League, pitched well. I felt I could compete—if I ever got the chance.
When the Cardinals drafted you, what did that look like?
They didn’t know when I’d be able to play. But they said, “We’ll put you on the military reserve list.” I didn’t show up until 2013—five years later.
That’s incredible. What was your family’s reaction when you said, “I’m going to give this a shot”?
My wife—then fiancée—knew how much I wanted it. She supported me completely. Coming back after five years away was ugly, but her belief in me was huge.
I read a cook on your ship caught your bullpens?
Yep. I met him in the lunch line. Someone said, “He’s Dominican, played ball.” I asked if he could catch. He said, “Of course—I’m Dominican!” My dad sent baseballs to the ship. We’d go out on the flight deck whenever we could. It was more about staying mentally engaged than actual training. We lost plenty of balls in the Persian Gulf.
Let’s talk debut. Do you remember that day?
I thought I wouldn’t pitch—Wainwright was starting. Then he tore his Achilles. The bullpen got the call: “Harris, you’re in.” I spiked the first pitch. My catcher laughed, said, “I get it.” Then it was muscle memory. When that bullpen door opened—seeing the fans, hearing the noise—I’ll never forget it.
Was your family there?
My wife and a buddy from my first ship were in the stands. Sharing that moment with them meant everything.
You’ve done two things almost nobody else has—commanded a Navy ship and played in the majors. What do you make of that?
I hope someone else gets to do it, too. I’m working on a book, because I want people to understand the journey. And I want to show people—if something feels impossible, maybe it’s just improbable. That means there’s still a chance.
How do you pass that to your kids?
That’s priority one. I want them to know life will throw you curveballs—some your fault, some not. How you respond defines you. I want them to see that it’s okay to have scars and still show up strong.
What gave you the edge to defy the odds—twice?
Mentality. People misuse “impossible.” Most things are just improbable. That leaves room to push forward. That mindset helped me in the Navy, in baseball, and it’s something I try to live by now.
~~~
More from Mitch Harris
NOTE: The above was edited for clarity and length.
You can read the full transcript here.