There’s a difference between a guy who starts on Friday night… and a Friday night guy.

Velocity doesn’t make you a Friday night starter.
Strikeouts alone don’t make you a Friday night starter.

Friday night starters control the game.

They set the pace.
They own the opposing line-up.
They control the running game.
They manage their emotions and know when to deploy them.

And when you watch enough baseball, you start to notice the little things that separate those guys from everybody else.

That’s what this series is about.

I call it Friday Night Sh*t.

The little details that win games.

Cam Johnson — Why I Think He’s Ready for SEC

Cam Johnson from Oklahoma is one of my favorite arms to watch in college baseball right now.

And it’s not just because he throws hard.

When people look at a pitcher stat line, they see things like strikeouts, ERA, or walks. Those things matter, but when I watch a pitcher, I’m looking at how the body moves and how repeatable the delivery is.

Cam checks those boxes immediately.

He’s about 6’6”, and for a pitcher that size, his delivery repeats incredibly well. That’s so important because the more repeatable a delivery is, the easier it is to develop true command.

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Perspective Is Power

Last night, I had the honor of serving as the MC for the second annual Rory McKenna You Matter Fund fundraiser by Siouxland Mental Health.

There were hundreds of people in the room. Families. Business leaders. Kids. Clinicians. Supporters.

I got to share a small part of my story for five or ten minutes.

But as I drove home, I kept thinking:

I left something on the table.

There were things I’ve learned over the years that I didn’t say clearly enough.

And the phrase that kept echoing in my head was this:

Perspective is power.

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I once walked five hitters in two-thirds of an inning in the major leagues.

Five.

In less than an inning, I went from feeling prepared to feeling exposed. I could feel it slipping. The timing. The rhythm. The command. The crowd didn’t need to say anything — I could hear it in my own head.

When I walked off the mound, I didn’t feel anger.

I felt embarrassment.

And embarrassment, if you sit with it long enough, is just another version of fear.

Not fear of the hitter.
Not fear of the next pitch.
Fear of what it means.

Fear of what people think.
Fear of what the organization thinks.
Fear of what your teammates think.
Fear that maybe they’re right.

That feeling is not unique to the big leagues.

It’s everywhere right now.

This happened on opening weekend in college baseball (go to the 9:33 mark):

And just days later, and Tennessee pitcher holds on to a baseball too long and throws it outside the lefty batter box for a wild pitch that wound up tying the game.

You don’t need commentary on the mechanics. You can see it, and you almost wish you didn’t.

The moment sped up.

And when the moment speeds up, the nervous system takes over.

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First — thank you.

If you’re here because of the SEC Starting Pitcher Power Rankings, welcome.
If you’re here because you’ve followed my baseball journey, welcome.
If you’re here because you’re curious about identity, fear, competition, and growth — you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Over the last few days, something interesting happened.

I posted my first SEC power rankings. It took off.
Eighty-five of you subscribed almost overnight. One of you even became a paid subscriber.

And almost immediately… I felt something.

A quiet pressure.

A voice that said:

“You better deliver.”
“Don’t let them down.”
“Now you owe people something.”

A younger version of me would’ve spiraled.

He would’ve felt stress.
He would’ve tried to force content.
He would’ve attached his worth to performance.
He would’ve confused responsibility with pressure.

That younger version of me lived inside Friday nights.

He pitched in front of thousands.
He wore the weight of expectation.
He tried to outrun fear instead of understand it.

What I’ve learned since then — and what this community is about — is this:

Fear is not the enemy.

Fear is information.
Fear is awareness.
Fear is energy that hasn’t been directed yet.

The difference between panic and performance isn’t eliminating fear.

It’s building a relationship with it.

What This Community Is

The Mindful Athlete isn’t just about baseball.

It’s about:

• Competing with awareness

• Understanding identity beyond performance

• Growing through discomfort instead of avoiding it

• Learning how to work with fear instead of against it

• Applying elite competition principles to life

I’ll use real situations from athletes I’m working with (always protecting identity and ambiguity).
I’ll use my own life — the fears I still have, the thoughts that still arise, the insecurities that don’t magically disappear just because you pitched in the big leagues.

This is a place where I’ll share:

• Lessons from the field

• Lessons from the clubhouse

• Lessons from parenting, business, leadership

• Lessons from screwing up

• Lessons from slowing down

And — importantly — this will also be the deeper layer of my pitching analysis.

The SEC Power Rankings will remain free and public-facing.

But inside this community, especially for paid subscribers, I’ll go further:

• High-level breakdowns of Friday night starters

• What separates “good stuff” from “winning stuff”

• Pitch sequencing in leverage moments

• How fear shows up in the sixth inning with runners on

• What analytics miss — and what they reveal

• The subtle indicators of a true competitor

You won’t just get rankings.

You’ll get the lens.

You’ll get the mindset layer.

You’ll get the things that don’t always show up on a stat sheet but win games over time.

That’s the upgrade.

What I’m Feeling Today

Today, I noticed the thought:

“You have subscribers now. You have to do more.”

That thought isn’t bad.

But it’s not truth either.

The truth is:

I don’t owe performance.
I owe presence.

The younger me confused the two.

He believed love, validation, security — they came from output.

Now I know:

When you’re grounded in who you are, you don’t force performance.
You build systems.
You trust process.
You show up consistently.
You share honestly.

That’s what I’m going to do here.

No forcing.

No pretending.

No guru persona.

Just experience. Reflection. Application.

Why This Matters

As an elite competitor, I had fear constantly.

Fear of failing.
Fear of letting teammates down.
Fear of being exposed.
Fear of not living up to expectations.

Sometimes that fear sharpened me.

Sometimes it consumed me.

Looking back, I genuinely believe that if I had the awareness I have now — if I understood identity the way I do now — my performance would have been more stable, more consistent, and probably better over the long arc of my career.

Not because I would’ve tried harder.

But because I would’ve been freer.

Freedom is performance.

What I Hope This Becomes

I hope this becomes interactive.

Comment. Push back. Share your experience.
Tell me where fear shows up for you.
Tell me where identity feels fragile.
Tell me what you’re trying to build.

The goal isn’t to remove fear.

The goal is to understand it so deeply that it becomes usable.

On the mound.
In business.
In leadership.
In life.

Welcome to The Mindful Athlete.

Let’s grow through it — together.

— Anthony

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