The 2020 Senior Perspectives is the 15th in a series of annual collections. Senior captains and representatives of teams at Harvard have been invited to contribute viewpoints based on personal experience from both their senior seasons and full varsity careers at Harvard."

Grant Stone
Hometown: Stamford, Conn.
Concentration: History and Literature
House Affiliation: Lowell
In the above quote, David Foster Wallace stresses the importance of awareness to Kenyon's Class of 2005. In his commencement address, he advertised personal liberation as a function of choice; choosing how to think, specifically, which informs growth, compassion and understanding in post-graduate life. There's a lot of carryover between Wallace's sentiments and what I've learned as a Harvard student-athlete.
 
My career on the field was a rollercoaster. As a freshman, I was a major contributor. I pitched every weekend; I threw well, I threw hard, and I exceeded expectations. Each subsequent season, though, my development was marred by injuries. Thirty innings became fifteen as a sophomore. By junior year, fifteen innings became six. Throwing brought pain and frustration. Rehab was a slog; during senior fall, I was prescribed nightly injections to heal. This spring was my chance for redemption and catharsis, but that chance was taken away. Six innings became zero. When our season was cancelled, I embraced my teammates and stared down reality through misty eyes; my Harvard career had ended, and disappointingly so.
 
It's very easy to dwell on the negatives in life. Emotions define experience, and Wallace acknowledges as much. Regardless, I agree with his greater message; I think there's power in choosing how to look at the world, and in realizing what's beyond oneself. Personal freedom lies in awareness, and while my playing career didn't go as planned, I've found plenty of joy along the way. I may not have thrown often without pain for instance, but I cherished more fully those times I did. I may have spent countless hours rehabbing, but I developed resilience and personal discipline. I may have rarely seen the mound junior year, but I won an Ivy League Championship with my best friends. I'm profoundly lucky for these experiences, and I'm grateful for my time as a collegiate student-athlete at a world-class institution. In retrospect, it would've been easy to take things for granted. I could've been angry and discontent. I could've chosen to lament my personal struggles. I could've allowed it to define my career, but I didn't. Instead, I looked beyond myself and considered perspective. I've found it's powerful to see life through rose-colored glasses; there's real potency in optimism, and there's freedom in choosing how to think.
 
Wallace also champions freedom through consistent sacrifice. As a baseball player, I've become familiar with the particulars of sacrifice on the diamond. Baseball is the epitome of a team sport – it's impossible for one player to single-handedly determine the team's success, and as such, cooperation, teamwork and chemistry are of the highest import. So too is sacrifice; baseball is the only sport where sacrifices are quantifiable statistics, and I've come to know how vital self-sacrifice is to the health and success of a group. In baseball, it's quite easy to focus on personal performance; after all, the group's success is the sum of individual efforts in concert. Nonetheless, I'd argue that the best teams are full of guys who'd sacrifice anything for their teammates, who choose to look beyond themselves toward something greater, despite their own hardship or what's asked of them. There's always a choice to be made. When you're asked to give part of yourself, give enthusiastically and when you're finished, choose to give more.
 
            To my teammates, especially my fellow seniors, I've cherished every moment we've been lucky to share together, and I'm thankful for your friendship. To my coaches, thank you for your guidance, and for seeing not just the player I could be, but the person I could grow to become. To Harvard, thank you for the best three and three-fourths years of my life.