Mitch Harris (Transcript)

Robby: Okay, Mitch Harris, you are the 84th person we’ve interviewed for this book, and it’s going to be pretty cool, man. I’m so excited to have you. First of all, if I remember correctly, you’re 39 years old, right?

Mitch: Yeah, thanks for the reminder. Yes, I’ll be 40 this year.

Robby: Now you’re a father. You have a son and a daughter. Your baseball career—your playing career—has come to a close. I say “playing career” because you never know if you’ll end up back in the game in some capacity down the road. Mitch, have you ever had a chance at 39 years of age to look back on the path you traveled, and what comes to mind when you look back on your baseball career and what it took to get to the big leagues?

Mitch: A lot—that’s the short answer. The long answer is that, starting out, it was kind of a far-fetched goal to make it to the big leagues. Every kid who grows up playing baseball has that dream. Then you factor in the Naval Academy and active duty, and the dream gets a little more far-fetched. What I talk about a lot is how, when I was in the military serving with the guys I did, we’d ask, “You joined the military for a reason. What’s your plan?” We’d push them to achieve their goals. One day, one of them turned that around on me and said, “We know you play baseball. You were supposed to be a high draft pick. What’s your goal?” That lit a fire under me. I thought, “If I’m going to push these guys to achieve their dreams, I’m going to do everything I can to achieve mine.”

That was a big motivator for me. The biggest thing I look at now is all the challenges we had, on and off the field, and how we got through them and did it the right way. We’re thrilled we were able to achieve that.

Robby: Mitch, in the military, I can’t imagine the level of structure and discipline required to be successful. Obviously there’s also structure and discipline in Major League Baseball. You have God-given talent, or else everyone would do it. But how much did the structure in the Navy correlate with the structure in Major League Baseball?

Mitch: There are a lot of similarities, because there’s so much redundancy. Every day in the military, you get up at the same time, get coffee, eat breakfast, work out—you do the same things every single day. In baseball, it’s similar: you get up, get to the field, stretch, maybe do some strengthening, eat, throw, work out, then play, and repeat the next day. From a discipline standpoint, it’s about doing it consistently and trying to get a little better each day. That definitely helped with my progress.

Robby: This next question is mostly for my author and me to have our facts straight. You entered the Naval Academy right out of high school. Is that correct?

Mitch: Yes, that’s correct.

Robby: You went there to play baseball. I saw your stats. You had a good career—you won an award your sophomore year, if I remember right. Then there’s a five-year commitment, right?

Mitch: Yes, they call that the “two for seven.” Going into your junior year, you sign a contract with the Navy saying you’ll do two more years of school and then five years of active duty. When you graduate, you don’t just get your diploma; you get your commission as well. So you become an ensign, and you owe five years of active duty.

Robby: So you get your diploma, and your commission is in the same folder. That means, at graduation, you become an ensign and start that five-year commitment, correct?

Mitch: Exactly.

Robby: Thank you for clarifying. Going back a bit, I know your grandfather served. But why the Naval Academy for you? Why not just go into professional baseball out of high school, knowing you were a great high school player with a chance to be a big leaguer?

Mitch: Short answer: I wasn’t good enough in high school. I was a utility guy—played corners, pitched a bit. A football recruiter came to my high school. Our head baseball coach was also an assistant football coach. The defensive coordinator came by the baseball field on his way to football practice. He saw me throwing a bullpen—this thin, wiry right-hander—and asked, “What’s this kid’s deal?” My coach said, “He’s a good kid, good grades, doesn’t stand out at any one position, but he can do everything—he can hit, pitch, play corners.” The recruiter said, “That’s exactly what the Naval Academy needs. Would he be interested?” My coach said, “I don’t know, ask him and his parents.” Two weeks later, I went on a visit, and the rest is history.

Robby: That’s Buddy Green, the coach I read about?

Mitch: That’s Buddy Green, yep.

Robby: What a story. How hard was it to not give up your baseball dream while you were serving in the Navy?

Mitch: It was hard. At first, the dream of playing in the big leagues felt like a stretch. You think, “If I can play Division I baseball and get a great education out of this, that’s awesome.” It wasn’t a real possibility until my sophomore year, when I really turned the corner as a pitcher. After that, I went to the Cape Cod League, did well, and felt I could compete at the highest level. The question was whether I’d ever get the chance. That uncertainty was the toughest part—wondering if I’d get the opportunity to prove I belonged.

Robby: So Mo—John Mozeliak—essentially gave you some sort of verbal commitment that if you fulfilled your service, you’d get a chance to play in the Cardinals’ system. What was that commitment like? How’d it go?

Mitch: Yeah, basically every team asked, “When do you think you’ll be able to play?” We just didn’t know. John Abbamondi was in the front office then and had a military background. They said, “We want to take you and put you on the military reserve list, and we’ll see what happens.” Whether it would be two years or five years, they didn’t know, but I was grateful they trusted me enough to at least give me that opportunity.

Robby: So you were on the reserve list for five seasons?

Mitch: Yes. I was drafted in 2008 and didn’t show up—didn’t even show face—until 2013. 

Robby: That’s unbelievable. When you finished, I’m not sure of your family situation in 2013, but what were the discussions like when you said, “I think I’m going to pursue baseball now”?

Mitch: My wife—fiancée at the time—knew I wanted to play baseball. In 2011 and 2012, we were talking about it. By 2013, I told her, “I’m going to pursue this. I’m going to try to stay in the Reserves and see what might happen.” She was supportive. Having that support in the first couple of years was huge. Taking five years off from competitive baseball and trying to come back is pretty ugly at first, but she believed in me. That was vital.

Robby: If you don’t mind my asking, what is your wife’s background? Does she have her own career?

Mitch: Yes, she works at Travelers as a regional marketing director, and she’s killing it.

Robby: That’s awesome. Now let’s get into some lighter stuff. Doing my research, I saw there was a cook on a ship who caught your bullpens, right? Because if you have big league stuff, how many people on a ship can catch that? How did that happen?

Mitch: I was going through the lunch line one day, and somebody said, “This guy’s Dominican, plays baseball, you should talk to him.” I asked him if he could catch, and he goes, “Come on, Papi, I’m Dominican.” I said, “Great, I need a throwing partner. Sometimes I go out on the flight deck.” My dad sent baseballs to the ship. We’d go onto the flight deck whenever we could and throw. It wasn’t so much about throwing bullpens or flat grounds as it was a mental exercise—just staying in it. My arm wasn’t what it used to be, but I wanted to keep the blood flowing. Plus, I was working my body hard so that if I ever got a shot, I wouldn’t worry about breaking down. My arm was what needed the most work. But anytime we had the chance, we’d go out there and throw.

Robby: Do you remember where the ship was?

Mitch: In the middle of the Persian Gulf.

Robby: How many baseballs ended up in the Persian Gulf?

Mitch: Too many.

Robby: So they’d deliver mail by helicopter, and that’s how you got baseballs?

Mitch: Yep, mail day was always the best. You’d get cards, care packages. Whenever I got one from Mom and Dad, I knew there’d be a bag of baseballs in it.

Robby: When you got to camp in 2013, did you go to Short Season right away? Where did they send you?

Mitch: Yes, I was in Short Season in 2013 in the Penn League. Then in 2014, they wanted me to go to Double-A, which I laughed at because that’s a big jump. In 2014, I started in High-A, moved to Double-A halfway through, and in September—when everyone got called up—I went to Triple-A to fill spots in their playoffs. So I pitched in Triple-A at the end of 2014. They told me to be ready in 2015. I got a big league invite to Spring Training that year. That was my first normal offseason in a long time. I came in great shape, pitched well. Mike Matheny basically said, “Be ready. You’re not making the team out of Spring, but be ready.” I thought he said that to everyone, but two weeks later, I was in the big leagues.

Robby: Amazing. You faced Adam Lind for your first batter, and you struck him out. It was your MLB debut. Do you remember going to the ballpark that day, warming up in the bullpen, running in?

Mitch: I don’t remember getting to the park, but I remember getting to my locker thinking, “Wainwright’s starting, so I won’t see the field.” Then Adam Wainwright blew out his Achilles. They called the bullpen, and we assumed Carlos Villanueva would go in. But they said, “Harris, you’re in,” and I just sat there thinking, “That stinks for whoever that is—oh wait, that’s me!” I got up, spiked the first ball at the catcher’s feet. He laughed and said, “I get it. Let’s go.” Once I got going, muscle memory took over. When the door opened, it was surreal seeing all those fans, hearing Cardinals fans on the road. It was bittersweet because our ace was down, but it was a successful MLB debut.

Robby: Was your family there?

Mitch: My wife—then fiancée—was there. A buddy from my first ship came down from Great Lakes. He and a friend sat with her. It was surreal to share that with guys I served with and with her. I’ll never forget it.

Robby: If you don’t mind me asking, can you talk a bit about your two deployments? What did each entail?

Mitch: My first deployment was seven months in the Persian Gulf. I was a Weapons Officer and a Combat Information Center Officer (CICO). The second was also six or seven months; I left halfway through to go to another ship, the USS Carr, a frigate. That was my third deployment overall. We went to Russia and the Baltics on a diplomatic mission, then to South America doing drug ops. I was the Training Officer, making sure the ship was ready for any exercise. That was fun but challenging. We did a massive drug bust in South America—took some guys to Guantanamo, seized a large cargo ship full of cocaine, offloaded it, blew up the ship, and got the cocaine back to the Colombian government.

Robby: So that was your primary role as an officer?

Mitch: Yes, as an officer you rotate roles every few years. On my first ship, I was Weapons Officer for a year, then Combat Information Center Officer the next year. You keep transitioning. But one thing you always do is drive the ship, which I actually enjoyed. Driving a multi-million dollar ship is fun—there’s no single steering wheel and gas pedal. It’s a team of maybe five or six on the bridge, controlling speed, heading, navigation, radar. As Officer of the Deck, you have command of the ship. That’s the main duty.

Robby: You realize you’re one of one, right? There’s no way anybody else will have run a naval ship and played Major League Baseball. That’s incredible.

Mitch: Well, I hope someone else does someday. It was a blast. I hope they get to live that journey. That’s one reason I want to write a book—so people understand what I got to do, what I went through. Hopefully it’ll make an impact.

Robby: How does it feel to know you might be a role model for someone who wants to serve in the Navy and also play baseball?

Mitch: It’s a heavy weight. It’s a challenge because I take pride in that, and I know it’s a big responsibility. But I want to show people—inside and outside baseball or the military—that if you face something in life that people tell you is impossible, maybe it’s actually just improbable. I want them to look at my story and realize if I got through it the way I did, they can overcome their challenges too.

Robby: How much do you want to instill those lessons in your children, no matter what they choose to do?

Mitch: That’s probably priority one, and another reason why I want to write the book—so they understand what I went through. It wasn’t always unicorns and rainbows. There were trials and real challenges that changed me. I believe being transparent is important, especially as a man these days. I think we need to be more open, show our scars, and talk about what made us who we are. That’s what I want my kids to learn: life is going to throw things at you, some of which you cause yourself, some of which just happen. How you face and overcome those things defines you.

Robby: I’m winding down here, but I want to pick your brain. One thing I’ve learned in 16 years of interviewing players is they don’t generally enjoy talking about themselves. But looking at you, the odds of being a Major League Baseball player are infinitesimal to begin with. Then you do it again by serving our country and rising in the Navy. It’s incredible. What qualities do you think served you in both regards—military and baseball—to defy those odds twice?

Mitch: I actually write about this in the book. We often misuse the word “impossible” when we really mean “improbable.” “Improbable” means there’s hope and a small chance, whereas “impossible” means you can’t do it. I’m teaching my kids that most things aren’t truly impossible. They’re just improbable. That means there’s still a chance. That mentality fueled me. I didn’t care what people said about my odds; only I had control over that. If someone says it’s impossible, it’s probably just improbable, which means you can still push for it. That helped me in baseball, in the military, and in my life today. I set a goal, and unless I fail or come up short, no one can tell me otherwise.

Robby: Last thing, on a lighter note. There’s no right or wrong answer, but I love asking people this: in baseball, how do you describe “the ass”? As in, “He’s got the ass today.” What does that mean to you?

Mitch: There are a couple ways I’ve seen it used. One is when you just have nothing going for you. You’re hitting line drives, but the other team is making diving catches. You’re hitting your spots, but they still find the barrel. You just can’t catch a break. The other way is when the manager is all over you—like, he “has the ass” for you. Either way, it means the day isn’t going your way. Those are the two variations I’ve heard: either nothing’s going right, or you’re in trouble because someone’s on your case.