Bubba Herrick - Jacksonville University

“Where am I?” I thought. It felt like a place I’d heard of but never believed in called Heaven. Everything was serene and undefinable; the outside world and everything in it made it feel like I was living on the inside of the purest diamond in the universe. The place was perfect and indescribable by words. My vision was 360 degrees, and I was not separated from my senses; I was all of them simultaneously. Time didn’t exist; time and I were the same thing. I had no voice in my head clinging to any specific identity. I wasn’t breathing, and I didn’t have a body, but I was still alive.

I looked down to see my body lying on the operating table and doctors frantically rushing to save my life. I was in two different places simultaneously, with what felt like a thick glass panel separating the two. I was here, inside this serene, diamond-feeling spiritual realm, but I was also lying on the operating table next to a machine sounding the alarm of a raging red flat line, my very own. 

I ventured off and explored the strange place that I was in. Were there other people here? Where are the pearly white gates? Where is God? The time I spent exploring couldn’t have been more than a few minutes on Earth, but it felt like it lasted an entire lifetime in the infinite continuum of time.

Amidst my fascinating explorations, it finally hit me…

 “ Am I actually dead? That was it? That was my life? No, no, no. This can’t be it. Seriously? No way. What?! I can’t believe it! This sucks!”

I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that I was now dead. I never thought it could happen to me. This was routine elbow surgery.

I began to reflect on my life and figured it was time to have the conversation with myself that I always avoided while I was alive.

 “Was it worth it to hide who I was my entire life? Why didn’t I ever realize I took the whole thing for granted? Did it ever do me any good to worry so much about the future? I should have laughed more. I should have loved harder and worried less. I shouldn’t have cared so much about what everybody thought of me. I should have forgiven my family. I shouldn’t have been so afraid to chase my dreams. I should have treated every moment, every game, every breath like it was my last. I should have lived while I had the chance. Now what? There is no later! There are no do-overs and no second chances. It’s over, man. It’s too late… Damn.”

This was during a failed Tommy John surgery operation in 2019 when I was a freshman pitcher at Jacksonville University. I never thought I could enter the operating room and die on the table, but that's what happened. I had a severe allergic reaction to the anesthesia, which caused my heart to stop and sent me into a life-altering encounter with the other side. I expected to return to the mound within a year and play in a pro ball within two.

As a baseball player, there were days when I'd show up to the field and treat it like such a chore. Following this experience, if there's one thing I learned, it's that every moment of our lives presents an opportunity to be grateful for what's right in front of us. It's so easy to wish we were somewhere else. I have fallen victim to this many times and still do to some degree. But what if it were our last moment ever on the field, with our teammates, coaches, family, or alive?

If this experience taught me anything, it is that the game and life are precious, and every moment is a gift. I know it can be hard sometimes, but it helps me step back and say thanks that I'm alive. Maybe your gratitude could help some of your teammates having a rough season or a bad day. You just never know.