Emotional Equivalency V.3: Anxiety

I'm getting nervous just thinking about it.

Ironically, during his early prime in KC, Zack Greinke was the only Royal who didn’t make me anxious when they stepped on the field. (Image: Reed Hoffman/AP)

For most of my life, I have battled anxiety. It generally doesn’t take the form of hyperventilating or anything so dramatic as that, but it’s always been present. Like a lot of people, I try to dress it up and spin it a bit more positively by calling myself an introvert or claiming to be a homebody, and that is all accurate, to a point. But let’s call it what it is. I have social anxiety disorder.

I don’t have a certificate from a doctor with the diagnosis on it, but I’m not pulling it out of thin air either. A few years ago, I was prescribed an anti-anxiety med called Buspirone. This is low-level stuff. To put it in more familiar terms, if Xanax is the equivalent of the extra-strength ibuprofen you have to get from the pharmacist, then Buspirone is basically the Children’s Tylenol of anxiety medication.

Even so, I don’t take it very often. I only pop one when my symptoms are in overdrive. This usually means I can feel the blood pumping through my head, especially around the temples, my muscles tense and my chest feels tight, and sometimes even the edges of my vision darken and narrow. However, sometimes the cure isn’t all that much better than the disease. The pills lower my blood pressure and help me relax, but they also tend to make me sluggish and light-headed, and I don’t want to get too dependent on them, so I take them sparingly.

I’m aware there’s a certain irony in the recovered addict being hesitant to take properly prescribed medication, but it makes sense if you think about it. I know better than most how slippery that slope can be, and let’s face it, I’m never going to shake the anxiety altogether. For better or worse, it’s part of who I am.

Social situations are the big trigger. Anytime I’m around groups of people, especially if I don’t know them, it really flares up. The funny thing is that I can give a speech in front of a large group of strangers and it won’t bother me a bit. That wasn’t always the case. In fact, I used to be afraid to speak up in class, but I got over that. The anxiety kicks when I actually have to interact with people. Like I said, I definitely have social anxiety disorder.

A lot of it goes back to confidence, I suppose. Self-confidence has always been a struggle for me. The irony is, I don’t think I’ve ever been that concerned with how other people feel about me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to paint myself as a sociopath or anything like that. Generally, I prefer people to have a basic level of respect for me, and view me as a competent and decent human being, because I think that’s the truth. But at the same time, I don’t consider myself a chronic people-pleaser, and I’m not too worried about being everyone’s cup of tea.

Still, I suppose I have often been too concerned about consequences, and frequently view the stakes as much higher than they actually are. Case in point, one of my regrets from when I was a kid revolves around playing basketball in middle school and high school. I was hardly a McDonald’s All-American, but I wasn’t terrible.* I had a solid jumper, but I was always hesitant to shoot, for fear of blowback if I missed.

*Not that this mattered to some of my coaches. Politics definitely played a role in school sports in my hometown. Again, I’m not arguing that I deserved to start or that they should have built the team around me, but they often didn’t give me (and many other kids) a chance because we didn’t have the right last names.

I wish I could go back and tell myself that it’s just a middle school basketball game. No one cares, and they really won’t care thirty years from now. Shoot the ball! I’d give myself the same advice when it came to dating. Sure, it hurts to get rejected, but it’s high school. Chances are you’re not blowing it with your true love, so you might as well go for it. I doubt a more carefree approach would have turned me into Casanova, but I probably would have gotten a lot more action than I did and written way fewer cringey poems.

These sorts of things have improved a lot as I’ve gotten older. I’ve learned to prioritize what really matters, and I’m very much of the I’ve got one life to lead so I might as well make it count approach these days. The anxiety never goes away though, and it isn’t strictly limited to social situations.

I worry about writing a lot. That might seem stupid to you, considering I’m a no-name with a few hundred subscribers to a baseball blog, but it means a lot to me. I want to say something meaningful, something that will last and resonate with people, and trying to sell a novel, especially in the modern publishing world, is not easy on the nerves.

And if only writing was all that made me antsy. I’ve got three kids, two of them teenagers. That means college is on the horizon, along with a whole host of other obstacles, and it doesn’t help that the country is basically melting down around us as we speak. If the government decides blind kids don’t need the resources to be educated, which feels like a distinct possibility, I may not even have a job in the near future.

All this is my very long-winded way of expressing my appreciation for Zack Greinke. Greinke is an odd cat, and a true American original,* and he’s also one of the highest profile athletes to make his struggle with anxiety public. That used to be a major no-no. Athletes, like a lot of us, didn’t want to deal with the stigma around mental health issues, and anxiety was usually seen as a major weakness in sports stars, who are supposed to have a killer instinct and come in big in the clutch. Admitting to anxiety might affect their coaches’ and teammates’ belief in their abilities, and could even cost them money in contract negotiations.

*Several oral histories and articles have been written about Greinke’s unique personality and behavior, and they’re all worth checking out. He’s a fascinating guy, and I wish I had more time here to tell some of those stories, but once you go down that rabbit hole, it might be a while before you come back out.

Greinke deserves a lot of credit for changing that narrative, though I don’t believe he has ever viewed himself as a crusader of any sorts. He simply never tried to hide what he was going through. His struggles with anxiety dated back to high school, but they came to a head early in his major league career.

The Kansas City Royals selected Greinke with the sixth overall pick of the 2002 draft, and he moved through the minors fast, making his debut in 2004. He had a solid rookie year for a bad team, finishing fourth in the AL Rookie of the Year voting. His numbers dipped in 2005, however, and perhaps feeling the pressure to succeed, he cracked in spring training the following year.

Greinke abruptly left spring training in 2006 with no intention of ever coming back. The anxiety and depression accompanying it* were so intense that he was willing to give up on his dream and a talent that most of us can only dream of. He was prepared to go to college or mow lawns, if that’s what it took to pay the bills.

*This part is no joke, and it’s the dirty little secret that comes with anxiety. If it was all just sweating and fidgeting, that would be one thing, but it’s usually joined by depression. I’ve felt it myself many times, a black funk that settles over your entire life for days or weeks at a time, making it so you don’t want to do anything. It’s a churning feeling in your gut, and I never wanted to do anything except lay around and listen to even more depressing music, which only made it worse. Not surprisingly, these bouts were far more frequent and intense at the height of my addiction. Nowadays, they are thankfully rare and considerably toned down.

To the Royals’ credit, they didn’t give up on him. They were patient, and helped him get the assistance he needed, setting him up with a counselor. Therapy isn’t easy, but I found it helpful when I was going through my divorce and getting clean. It’s a good place to get stuff off your chest and vent in a cathartic manner. I tend to use writing for the same purposes, but at that time, I needed something more, and I’m grateful for the help it provided. For someone like Greinke, who has always been open and blunt, it may have been even easier to embrace.

Like me, a lot of Greinke’s problem boiled down to not being comfortable in his own skin. As I stated earlier, confidence was the issue for me. Greinke, on the other hand, was a supremely talented pitcher. Confidence wasn’t a big problem for him. In fact, he felt at home on the mound, almost serene. Unfortunately, that didn’t extend to the rest of his life. He hated everything else about being a pro ball player, the spotlight, the demanding fans, the casual chit-chat with teammates, broadcasters, and the people on the street.*

*I can definitely sympathize with the last one. Small talk has never been my strength.

Fortunately, his counselors helped him understand that giving up the one thing that mattered most to him wasn’t going to make him feel any better. He just had to learn to manage the rest of it, which he did, thanks to therapy and a Zoloft prescription.*

*No shade at all thrown at anyone using medication for their mental health. I consider myself lucky that I haven’t needed to rely on it, at least not on a regular basis, to keep my anxiety in check. Hopefully, that will persist. But if it works for you, then by all means, do what you have to do. We’re all just trying to get through the day.

Greinke returned to Kansas City late in 2006, and over the next few seasons, he gradually found his groove, resulting in one of the best seasons in Royals’ history for a pitcher in 2009. He won the AL Cy Young with a record of 16-8, 2.16 ERA, 229.1 IP, 242 strikeouts, and a 1.073 WHIP. Unfortunately, the rest of the Royals stunk, and he demanded a trade a few years later.

As a Royals fan, it was sad to see him go. Greinke was one of the few brights spot of that era, but the trade the Royals made to send him to Milwaukee was the first step in a series of deals that paved the way for the franchise’s run to back-to-back World Series appearances in 2014-15, and a championship in 2015.

Greinke never got a ring for himself, however, despite coming very close in 2019 with the Astros, who lost the World Series in seven games to the Nationals. His career took on a somewhat mercenary flavor, as he bounced around from Milwaukee to the Angels, Dodgers, Diamondbacks, and Astros, before finding his way back to Kansas City.

He wrapped up his career in 2023 in a familiar environment, as part of a bad Royals team. In a surprising twist, Greinke acted as a kind of mentor for the Royals’ up-and-coming young core. His numbers tailed off in his final season, but he put the finishing touches on what is likely to be a Hall-of-Fame career* in typical Greinke fashion, grinding through whatever obstacles were placed in his path.

*Assuming Greinke is inducted into Cooperstown, which seems likely, but isn’t a given, he may very well go in as only the second player wearing a Royals hat, after George Brett. I hope this is the case, and that Salvador Perez will follow as number three in relatively short order.

His final numbers were a record of 225-156, 3.49 ERA, 3,389.1 IP, 2,979 strikeouts, 1.171 WHIP, and 77.4 bWAR. That reads like a Hall of Fame resume to me, especially in the modern era, though I wish he could have recorded just 21 more strikeouts to get to the three-thousand mark. Unfortunately, he fell just short. Ironically, the guy who once tried to walk away from his career before it had even really started expressed an interest in coming back in 2024, but the phone never rang. Or, if it did, the right deal never materialized.

Even after twenty years of major league wear and tear, I have to believe he could have helped some team last season, and reached that milestone in the process. Who knows, maybe he could have even picked up that elusive ring if he’d signed with the right team. The Dodgers were certainly short-handed on pitching last October, after all. Not that it held them back. But it wasn’t meant to be.

Somehow, I suspect Greinke wasn’t bothered. He has a beautiful family, seems to love playing catch with his kids, and he put together a remarkable career. More importantly, he learned to block out the noise and focus on what really mattered. He found a sense of peace within himself, which allowed him to fully embrace doing what he loved.

Isn’t that what we all want?

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Thanks for reading Powder Blue Nostalgia. What’s your favorite Zack Greinke story or performance? Your most anxious baseball moment? Or, if you suffer from anxiety as well, and just want to vent a bit, you’ll find a sympathetic ear here. Feel free to cut loose in the comments.