The Invisible Box
Boston Follis | NILvana Sports
Imagine this: you are walking down a busy street in NYC, and you look over and see a mime. He is doing his act, pretending to walk down stairs, getting pulled by a rope, or being trapped in an invisible box. Little do you know that you are trapped in your own invisible box. The box is comfortable, warm, and safe but holding you back.
This past summer, I had the opportunity to complete a clinical rotation in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, with the Lake Country Dockhounds, a boy from Lebanon, Tennessee, used to the comfort of my small college, suddenly having to step outside of my invisible box and into unfamiliar territory. They tested my knowledge, confidence, and willingness to be a student. Here I was, just months prior, working with high school athletes, and now I’m working with real professional baseball players.
At first, the opportunity was bittersweet. I felt a child-like excitement at all the possibilities, followed by a burning sense of anxiousness. I was about to go into a completely different world with only the knowledge I had gained and a warm smile. I knew the bare minimum about baseball, from playing until my sophomore year of high school, plus I didn’t know a single person there. It felt as if I stepped out of my invisible box and walked straight into the unknown.
A curious thing about the unknown is that the longer you are in it, the more familiar it becomes. Taking that step to work with the Dock Hounds showed me things that I would not have experienced back home. I was able to expand my knowledge of clinical skills. I developed my evaluation skills, learned about dry needling with e-stim, and found a new confidence in my abilities. That showed in how I was able to communicate with players, coaches, and owners. All because I took a step outside of my comfort zone. I faced challenging situations head-on. I got comfortable being put in uncomfortable situations.
One of the biggest switches from high school to professional baseball is that professional baseball is a business first. Owners and general managers want a winning and healthy team, while players want to succeed. Pressure is high, and your decisions hold more weight. A player’s career could hinge on my evaluation and clinical judgment. Walking in to tell the general manager what happened to one of his starters after a tough loss is daunting. When entering that room, you need to have a clear, well-thought-out understanding of the injury and the plan for the athlete. There is no room for second-guessing, as it undermines credibility. You need to be able to express your thoughts clearly, efficiently, and accurately.
I learned the importance of being a student, asking questions, and being open to learning new things every day. Being a student means asking questions, being humble enough to make mistakes, and learning from those opportunities. One of the first things I was told at Lake Country was “pick the players’ brains, ask them about the biomechanics, their warm-up, their throwing schedule, etc.” Their arms are their jobs. I would have done myself a disservice by not asking them questions and picking their brains about everything. I also had the opportunity to meet several athletic trainers from other teams. I got out of my shell and introduced myself before games. I went out of my way to build relationships and rapport with other athletic trainers, opening doors for future questions or job opportunities.
Going to Lake Country solidified the idea that athletic training is more than just taping and ice. I had a basic understanding of what that meant, but after this summer, I have a whole new perspective. Being an athletic trainer is more than just treating boo-boos. Sometimes you are asked to be a counselor. I will never forget the moment I saw a grown man break down and cry in front of me because he tore his UCL. In the weight of that moment, you become more than someone who treats the physical injuries. You also need to support the mental and emotional well-being of your athlete. You have to be a caretaker. I had to learn how to treat spider bites, infections, skin disease, and other related conditions. It is not just about sports-related injuries; there are also general medical conditions that require attention. Athletic trainers are the only source of medical treatment available in some situations. For some, we are the only source of healthcare because they lack access to regular providers or insurance.
Everyone is trapped in their own invisible box. Some people are aware they are trapped, while others remain oblivious. Awareness can be painful, but it also opens the door to growth. Recognizing the walls that confine us—whether built by fear, expectation, or habit—is the first step toward freedom. While not everyone escapes their box, those who try often discover that the boundaries were never as solid as they once seemed. In the end, the true challenge lies not in the walls themselves, but in our willingness to see them.
