The Unbelievable True Story of Baseball’s Oldest Rookie | Jim Morris | Goalcast


– You’re not smart enough,
you’re not good enough, why do you even try,
why don’t you quit now before you embarrass
yourself and everybody else? You’ll never make it. For 15 years, I watched my
parents say the worst things they could possibly say to each other, throw things, hit each other,
so the next three years, I learned from my grandparents it doesn’t have to be that way. I worked for my grandfather in the stores for three summers, and he taught me a lot. Every day pretty much, I got a lesson. Jimmy, you’re born with your name, and you die with your
name, what you do with it in between is a legacy you
leave behind for everybody else. Who do you wanna be? These lessons from my
grandparents added up over time. Eventually, I take those college entry exams that everybody loves to take. The scores came back,
and my counselor stops me in the hallway, he’s got
my scores in his hand. He goes, “Jimmy, what are
you gonna do with your life?” I looked up at my counselor, and I said, “I’m gonna be a baseball
player, everybody knows that.” He goes, “I hope so, you’re
too stupid to go to college.” (audience laughs) Same period of time, I find out the person I love more than anybody in my life, the mentor, the person I held high up here on this pedestal, my grandfather, Ernest, was diagnosed with ALS. I was watching my grandfather
get sicker and sicker. I was playing a Summer league game, after the game this man
came up to talk to me, he goes, “I’m the coach
at Ranger Junior College, I want you to come play baseball for me.” “I know about your
dream, I know about your grandfather, I know about your grades.” “I’m gonna get you classes that you can pass,” which was important. “You’re gonna pitch
for me during the week, and on the weekends during the Fall, you’re going to go home
and spend some time with your grandparents in
the hospital every weekend.” I would pitch, and on the
weekends I would go home. I did that for four and a half months. On the last Sunday in November of ’82, I kissed my grandparents goodbye. At midnight, I had to get back for eight o’clock Monday class. Told him I loved him, I
got back to school at one. At three, my coach woke me up, he said, “You need to go home,
Ernest has passed away.” “I’ve already talked
to all your professors, don’t worry about your finals, it’ll be taken care of when you get back.” “You go home, you take care of your grandmother, you take
care of the funeral.” “She does not lift another finger.” So I did, to this day in Brownwood, there’s never been a
larger funeral take place. People came from all over the country. Everybody got to say their
goodbyes to my grandfather who lived for everybody else but himself. No grades, no scholarship, no where to go, call my mom, “Mom, I
made a horrible mistake.” “I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m quitting, I’m coming home, I’m dome.” “Time to go out in the world and start teaching and coaching kids.” That’s when I found
myself at Reagan County High School in Big Lake, Texas. I inherited a baseball
team that had won one game each year for the three
years before I got there. The first thing I did as a head coach was I kept that one team on the schedule. You’re going to respect this game as long as you’re on my field, and
you’re playing for my team. We’re gonna do things the right way. Athletic director and head football coach at Reagan County High School
pulled me aside one day to tell me, “If it’s ever
close or they’re ever behind, they’re gonna find a way to lose.” “Their parents are losers, they’re losers, it’s just in their DNA, they’re not even gonna graduate from high school.” “They’re gonna work in the oil fields and gas fields like their
dads and granddads did.” “There’s nothing you or
anybody else can do about it.” “You have taken these
kids as far as you can.” See the problem with
that little talk was that two of my kids were behind
the lockers changing. Before I get to my field,
spread through my team like wildfire, the guy not
only in charge of all the coaches, but all the kids,
thought they were losers. I walked down the left field line, not one kid’s looking at me. I start talking about hopes
and dreams and setting goals, and then my catcher looked
at me dead in the eye, and he goes, “Why are you
telling us chase our dreams if you’re not willing to do it yourself?” “We think you still wanna play.” I said, “No, sir, I wanna stay married, thank you very much.” “But Coach, the way you teach us the game, we know your heart’s still in it.” “You teach us how to act and react to every situation that comes up.” “We know what the other team’s
gonna do before they do it.” What came outta the deal
was, if they won a district championship, which the
school had never done in baseball, I had to try out again. I forget about the bet, but
in the district championship game, we’re down by three runs in the last inning and
history would dictate we’re not gonna come
back and win that game. I watch as a group of kids
that nobody believed in, including themselves, come
back to score four runs, win. It is one of the best sights
I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re hugging each
other, they’re hugging the trophy, they’re hugging their parents. This kid on my team sees tears in my eyes, and when he sees me, he starts giggling. Big fat coach in driver’s
seat crying like a baby, pats me on the shoulder,
walks by and goes, “We did our part, now it’s your turn.” I have to go do this,
every kid on the bus, “Coach, we did our part,
now it’s your turn.” I find a tryout, my dad helps me find it. I made a promise to group of kids. If they did something nobody
thought they could do, I would try to do something
I know I can’t do. Embarrassing, humiliating, I
can’t do anything about that. I made a promise, I’m living up to it. Young guy catching me, who just
graduated from high school, gives me a sign for a fastball, I lined up, I throw it as hard as I can. I look over the catcher’s
head, behind the screens, Gassaway, the scout,
shaking his radar radar gun. I do not even throw
hard enough to register. Gassaway, the scout, meets me at my car, and he said, “Well, son, I
don’t know what you’ve done in your time off, but the
first pitch you threw without warming up was 94, everything
after that went up to 98.” The last thing he said to me
as I got ready to drive home is don’t be surprised
if you get a phone call. The kids were right. I didn’t embarrass myself. Drive an hour and 10 minutes
home, wasn’t one phone call, it was 12, and we were
not the first ones home. So my ex-wife hangs up the phone, turns around and says,
“So, where have we been?” My oldest daughter, who
was four at the time, and holds onto me every time she can, is holding onto my pants, and
she looks up at her mother and goes, “We’re not
supposed to tell you.” (audience laughs) She looked back at me, and she said, “What were you thinking?” I said, “I’m a man, I’m
not supposed to think.” She goes, “What do you do now?” I said, “The same thing
I was gonna do before.” “I’m good at coaching these kids, I’m trained for that,
I’m successful at that, I win everywhere I go,
that’s what I’m good at.” “This thing over here, this baseball dream’s never ever worked.” “I’ve wanted to play since I
was five, it’s never worked.” She said, “You better
listen to phone calls.” They wanted me to come back in two days and throw again to see if I could actually throw that hard or if
my arm had fallen off. So, I’m telling my kids they want me to come back and throw again. My kids go, “Coach, you told us if we ever had our dream in front of us, you’d chase it no matter what.” Two days later, I go back and throw again. It rained so hard, they had to hand me a brand new baseball every pitch. Slamming up to my knee in mud every time I landed, 98 every pitch. Our big league general manager’s there. He goes, “You can smile, you’re
gonna be in Texas tomorrow.” I just looked at him, I was
stunned, I was like, what? He goes, “You’re in the big leagues.” I’m trying to process how in three months, I’ve lost 60 pounds, I’ve gone from grading papers, science
papers and report cards, to autographs and doing interviews. All because of a group of kids who when I pushed them, they pushed back. They got their coach to
go to the big leagues who couldn’t even believe
in himself at the time. My grandfather had a saying, every day, I heard it for three years,
remember who you are. It took me until years
later to get what he meant. Remember who you are is simple. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t
have anybody see you do. Cause now what you do when
you know people are watching, it makes you who you are,
it’s what you do when nobody’s watching at all, that
makes you who you are. That’s character, that’s my grandparents. If you make it just about you, you’re never going to go anywhere. It’s when you make it
about something bigger than you, be a mentor for somebody, be a dream maker, be a team player. Nothing is impossible in this world.

76 thoughts on “The Unbelievable True Story of Baseball’s Oldest Rookie | Jim Morris | Goalcast

  1. never quit on yourself. You choose who you are and what you do. Never quit never back down

  2. you have everything you need already to build success. if your "not smart enough" focus on self improvement by reading books and learning on youtube. I did and changed my life. 25 years old and make 180k last year.

  3. I watched the movie but I never thought that the person was real, that it was a true story boy it's inspiring❤

  4. "Don't do anything you would rather not have anybody see you do, even if nobody's watching, what you do makes you who you are" Powerful.

  5. He is an amazing guy but your source for the movie scenes should be Disney, they produced the movie not Warner Bros. Just a little critique on your video.

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  7. To many compliments are a bad thing do not do it often only when valid it makes u give up when told to much no need to get better if u the best I wish I was never told it I was never pushed growing up better then others by nature is sad life don't stop trying

  8. Man, I’ve somehow stumbled across these motivational talks and I feel like a new person with the possibility that I can achieve and be my definition of successful.. I’ve felt this way before and I know there’s only so much videos you can watch until you get use to them and they lose their effect.. but wow , I hope this feeling lasts

  9. To the 3% of people who see this, I hope that you get all you want for Christmas and have a wonderful future ahead of you!! IM FOR REAL SUBBING TO EVERYONE WHO SUBS TO ME!☃️❄️👿

  10. Damn he shook me when he said "Rabun County Highschool" because I attend that school as of right now. It's a great school, great teachers my favorite one I have ever attended.

  11. You are born with your bame and die with your name whta you do in between is a legacy you leave for everybody else

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