Dear Jays Fans

I’ve just always wanted to play more baseball. 

Maybe that sounds too simple, but it’s true. I grew up in Rochester, New York, and my dad was a big Yankees fan. So we’d watch them on TV a lot..... and pretty soon I was begging him to play catch, or to hit me ground balls, or to let me take a few swings. And honestly that’s kind of the whole story. My dad got me started playing baseball, and I’ve never really wanted to stop.

I had this great group of friends — Alex Wasserman (A-Wass), Jesse Tesler, Alan (Moose) Vitale, Ryan Brown (Brownie), Nicky Golini, Trent Wasserman — and in the summers we’d spend all day in A-Wass’s backyard, playing wiffle ball. We’d pick teams, then play it like normal baseball as best we could … but the rulebook was pretty loose. Sometimes we’d do 3v3. Sometimes there were only two of us so we’d have to do 1v1. But no matter what, we were out there. We made it work. And somehow every season always ended the same: with the World Series going seven games, and one of us at bat with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the 9th.

We all went to baseball camp together — and I remember this one day there were these huge thunderstorms, so camp got canceled. But there was no such thing as “canceling baseball” for us. We literally just went right over to A-Wass’s house and played wiffle ball all day in the pouring rain. We could barely see the ball, we were sliding headfirst into puddles, and by the end it was super late and we were covered in mud. I don’t think any of our parents were too happy…… but that’s just kind of how it was back then. If there was baseball out there to be played, we were going to find a way to play it.

I did pretty well in high school at Brighton, and in college at Virginia. Then in 2017 I got drafted by Cleveland in the fourth round. And while I wasn’t some huge prospect, the minors were like heaven to me … because now my actual job was to do my favorite thing in the world: play baseball every day.

When I got called up to the big leagues in 2021, it was this strange mix of feelings. It was a dream come true, for sure. But I was also out of the lineup a lot….. which meant that I was playing the least amount of baseball I ever had. And looking back, I don’t think I handled it very maturely. “Guy who sometimes plays baseball” just wasn’t a job I knew how to be good at.

I got DFA’d by the Guardians in September of 2022. Then I got claimed off waivers by the A’s … but started off 1-for-18 at the plate (awesome first impression). I got DFA’d by them in December of 2022, and then released that next March. It was tough, man.

And that’s kind of how I ended up in Toronto. Of the minor league deals I got offered as a free agent, a few were for more money. But Toronto was the only team that offered me regular at-bats. They promised I’d be in the lineup “four or five times a week.” That was all I needed to hear.

Even after signing with the Jays, though, I still hadn’t totally figured out how to feel like myself again as a baseball player. I’d just … gotten in this funk, I think, from feeling like I’d let people down. And I was gripping so tight on this idea of who I thought I had to be. It was like the less I hit, the more pressure I put on myself — and then the more pressure I put on myself, the less I hit. So that first year in the Jays organization, with the Bisons, I started off slow.

And of course right when I was hitting my worst, we had a road trip to Rochester to play the Red Wings — my hometown team. So the series opener comes, I’ve got a big group there to see me … and I go (a very rough-looking) 0-for-4. Then after the game, we all drive over to my grandmother’s house for some family time. But the last thing I feel like doing at that point is spending time with anyone. I’m just embarrassed, you know?? So we get to her house and I duck right to the basement. Eventually my mom comes down to see what’s wrong. And man … I started crying so hard. “Why am I like this??” I asked her. “Why do I suck?? Why can’t I just enjoy baseball like I used to???”

I’ll never forget my mom’s response. She was like, “Ernie…. let’s be honest. You could be done playing baseball tomorrow. I mean, I hope not. It could happen, though, right?? So why not enjoy it??? Like, why spend this time being stressed? Spend it having fun.”

So that’s what I did. For the rest of 2023 between Buffalo and Toronto, then with the big-league club full time in 2024 — I just tried to have fun. And once I was actually having fun again, and wasn’t gripping things so tight, I think that’s when I finally turned the corner as a baseball player. That’s when I finally felt like, OK. Maybe I belong.

And then as far as last season goes…..… it’s hard to know where to begin. 

Here’s one thing I’ve been thinking about: Our team had the same energy as the energy I felt when I was first falling in love with the game. Because we had this group of guys that played like kids who couldn’t wait to get to the ballpark.

A lot of people know this, but I lived in an apartment downtown last season that I rented with Davis — and beyond having Davis around, the best part of living there was being so close to Rogers Centre. Walking to the stadium is a routine I picked up in Cleveland, but those walks were always pretty anonymous. (I wouldn’t have recognized me either, with how I was playing.) And it was the same way in Toronto at first. Beginning of the season, I’d be door-to-door in about 10 minutes, without anyone saying hi. Just me, my pregame playlist and some fresh air. 

But then as the season kept going, I started swinging the bat a little bit. And we started winning a lot. And pretty soon, more and more people started to recognize me. And then more and more people started to come up to me to chat, or to give me knucks, or to wish me good luck. And by the end of the season? I’d even have people waiting outside my building on game day, or knowing where to catch me on my route. (Which sounds like it could’ve gone bad, but it was always great.) And I think walking to those home games, and chatting with Jays fans ... that’s when I started to feel like something special might be happening. Like we were about to go on a run.

So many moments stand out from that run. 

There was the moment when George changed everything. ALCS, Game 7, bottom 7, down 3–1..... suddenly we started getting some traffic. And we were at home, so you could really sense the mood start to shift. Almost like it was in the air that we were gonna break through. I was sitting on the top railing of the dugout as this was happening — and for some reason I looked over and saw these kids in the stands, right by me, and they were on the edge of their seats. And I had no business doing this……. but I started talking to them a little bit. Eventually, George got to the plate. And I don’t even know what got into me, but right at that moment, I turned to these kids and was like, “GUYS, CAN YOU FEEL IT? CAN YOU FEEL IT COMING?!” And then George did what George did. I think they thought I could see the future.

There was the moment when we bounced back in LA. Game 3 was such a gut punch. To grind for 18 innings, then have nothing to show for it … it’s probably the most exhausted I’ve ever been in my life. It was also probably the moment when our team’s culture most paid off — that “can’t wait to get to the ballpark” energy. Because when we got there the next day, it was pretty telling. I made a point to be extra early, and to show up with some pep, just to set the tone because I figured guys would be dragging a bit. And of course what happened is……. pretty much every guy on our team had the exact same idea. So at this moment when we were all at our most exhausted, we also ended up being our most dialed in. Nothing even had to be said — we were already thinking it: We can fold these next two games, and that’s the season. Or we can beat them twice, and it’s on.

And then finally, yeah………... just like in the backyard at A-Wass’s house. World Series, Game 7, tied up, bases loaded, two outs, bottom of the ninth. 

Only this time the moment happened to me for real.

What’s funny is, I’d actually already taken an at-bat with a chance to walk us off in Game 6. And I had a lot in my head, obviously, so I’d tried to keep things simple during that at-bat by telling myself, Alright … I’m gonna get a fastball, and put my bat on it, and go the other way. And at least get Straw in from third. But then Glasnow executed on a really good pitch, kind of running in on my hands — and when I tried to get inside of it I popped one up. And I just remember walking back to the dugout, thinking, Man. Why’d I try to go the other way??? That’s not my game. If I just put my best swing on it, he doesn’t beat me there.

So then it’s Game 7, another walkoff situation, and I come up against Yamamoto. First pitch … I have this feeling he’s throwing me a big curveball. I figure they know I’m on the fastball, always, so they’re gonna try to get me out front, to roll one over. So in my head I’m like, If it’s first pitch curveball … no matter what … I’m putting my best swing on it. Then he spins the curve right in there. 

And when I tell you I put my best swing on that pitch? It’s the absolute truth. 

Off the bat, I thought it might be a home run, I really did. I’ve hit that exact ball in our stadium before. It was earlier in the season, with the roof open, so the ball was carrying more — but I’ve hit it, and it’s been gone. And I hit this one.…. and I see both those dudes running after it….. and I’m like, Alright … that’s off the wall, at least!!! I JUST WALKED US OFF TO WIN THE WORLD SERIES. 

And then they collide…..… and I don’t see the ball…..…. 

And I’m like, Oh my God. One of them caught it.

Two innings later, it was over.

Back in November, so a couple of weeks after the Series ended, I played the MLB Open. It’s this golf tournament that the league puts on, where they pair up past and present MLB players. And because of our Blue Jays connection, I got paired up with Joe Carter. Joe (I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this) is the man. Not only in what a great guy he is, but in how he carries himself. He just carries himself like a champion. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, since he’s one of two players in history to walk off the World Series on a homer. Anyway … we had an awesome time. And even though he’s this all-time legend, and I’m only a few seasons in, he treated me like his peer. He gave me some really nice words of encouragement, and told me that he’s proud of how we battled all playoffs. And that we should be proud of ourselves, even though we lost.

I’ll be honest……. hearing those words from Joe was bittersweet. On one hand, he’s right — we have a lot to be proud of. We came one game, one run, one pitch, one swing, all of these crazy tiny margins, away from winning the World Series. I don’t think we fell short as much as it just wasn’t our time. But on the other hand … it’s hard not to think about. How for a few seconds, while that ball was in the air, and maybe on another night in that same ballpark … I almost was Joe. We almost were champions. And that’s always gonna hurt.

In the end, though, and hopefully this doesn’t sound too corny, I think the stuff we have to be proud of from last season just completely dwarfs the stuff to feel hurt about. And the more time that passes, the more I understand that we still got to do something special: We got to take the game of baseball pretty much as far as you can take it. We got to go for as long as possible, until as late as possible, at the highest level possible. We got to play until there was no more baseball out there to be played. 

And as heartbreaking as it was, I’m still grateful for all of that. 

I’m also excited for us to try again this season. I know my career won’t last forever … but I know the little kid in me would be proud of how I’m smiling and having fun out there, the same way I did all those years ago in the backyard. I hope that comes through — the joy this game brings me every day. Baseball is my favorite thing in the world, man. And I’m so honored I get to play it with the Jays and in Toronto.

Thanks for reading.

I’ll see you guys Friday night.

—Ernie