This is one man's journey of faith, only this man happens to be the All-Star third baseman for the Cleveland Indians.
Listen to Travis Fryman tell his story about the bats he smashed, the walls he dented, the coolers he kicked.
Cleveland Indians player Travis Fryman says his life and career are more rewarding thanks to his faith in God. In his earlier playing days, Fryman was known for his foul mouth and hot temper.
There was an exhibition game where a coach told a couple of front-office people from the Detroit Tigers about how young Travis Fryman was taking control of his temper.
"The words didn't even get out of his mouth, and I made an out and threw my batting helmet halfway up the light pole down the right field line," he said. "And that was during a minor league exhibition game."
Fryman shook his head.
Not exactly godly behavior.
"I gave my life to the Lord when I was 7 years old in a backyard Bible study," he said. "At that point, the Bible says I became a new creation in Christ."
But hardly a finished product.
He went to Olive Baptist Church every Sunday in Pensacola, Fla.
"But that was more like a cultural thing in the South," he said.
The son of a high school basketball coach, sport was Fryman's God. He was a top draft pick by the Detroit Tigers in 1987, at the age of 18. By the time he was 22, he was in the big leagues.
"At 25, most people would think I had everything," Fryman said. "I had the million-dollar contract. I was married to a beautiful woman. I had the job I always wanted."
Fryman paused.
"And I was miserable," he said.
Likely to explode
Those who have watched Fryman play third base stoically for the Tribe since 1998 see his expression seldom changing, his pure professionalism obvious.
"When I first came to the Tigers, I was known for my foul mouth and my temper," he said. "When I struck out, guys moved to the other end of the dugout because they knew I was likely to explode."
There was more.
"I was obsessed," he said. "If I lost a game of pingpong, I went off. I rarely smiled, and I reached the point where I even stopped enjoying what I was doing."
He meant playing the game he loved, a game in which he was an All-Star from 1992 to 1994.
"I had also gotten married," he said. "I was tough to live with. I'd bring the game home with me, and Kathleen wouldn't know how to deal with my moods. Our marriage was not off to a good start."
During the summer of 1992, Kathleen Fryman became close friends with Cathy Tanana, wife of Detroit pitcher Frank Tanana.
"Cathy led my life to the Lord in the parking lot of Tiger Stadium," he said.
If it made Kathleen happy to go to a few Bible studies, that was fine. But he wasn't especially interested. Kathleen Fryman was smart enough not to leave Bible verses or spiritual books out for her husband to read.
"She didn't talk much about her faith, which was good," he said. "Because I would have rejected it. But her spirit changed. She became more gentle."
Playing for God
Baseball went on strike in August of 1994, and Fryman went home.
His anger continued to smolder, and he wasn't always sure of what was making him so mad. He began to go to church with his wife and realized that he had never made a real commitment to Christ. He admired the change in his wife, and found some meaning in church.
"I finally realized that I had to stop playing baseball for me, and realize that my talent was a gift from God," he said. "I was playing for him."
He seriously read the Bible. He realized he couldn't be a godly man and talk like the average ballplayer. When baseball resumed in 1995, players immediately noticed a difference. Fryman was calmer.
And for the first 10 weeks of the season, he couldn't hit.
"It was the worst slump of my career," he said. "Now, I know it was a real time of testing. (Detroit teammate) Kirk Gibson asked me, 'When is it gonna happen?' He meant, when was I going to blow up? I told him that I wouldn't."
There were whispers in the Detroit clubhouse that Fryman had gone way over the bend with this God stuff, that his fire was gone. In the macho world of pro sports, charges like that can lead to a player losing the respect of his teammates.
That 1995 season was probably the least productive of Fryman's career. He was batting .275 with 15 homers and 81 RBI respectable, but not up to his usual standards of 20-some homers and 100 RBI.
"I see that as a time of testing," he said. "It made me stronger."
That's because Fryman's faith didn't waiver, even though there were times when his confidence did. He returned to the All-Star team in 1996 and was traded to the Tribe in 1998.
Stopping at a simmer
Now the leader of the Tribe's baseball chapel, Fryman has a Bible study once a week, and says his goal is
"Not to preach, but to make an invisible God visible to the people who come into contact with me."
As for the anger, it still simmers, but it doesn't boil over.
"You will feel it, and that's OK," he said. "It's how you react. The Bible says to be angry, but don't sin. God has cleaned up my language, and taught me a lot about self-control."
Fryman prays every day with his wife and two children. He makes no claims of being perfect, and says it's still a struggle to be a good husband and father.
"Most adults don't come to Christ unless they are in some sort of crisis," he said. "All of us want a sense of peace, a sense of purpose, and I have that now."
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