As told by Cory Hahn
I was given the honor of throwing out the final first pitch before the last game in Packard Stadium’s history on May 20, 2014. Surrounded by dozens of teammates that truly love me, in front of thousands of fans that genuinely care about me.
My throw went just a few feet and bounced past home plate, but it represented a lifetime of realizing I’ll never be alone.
Like every competitor and NCAA student-athlete, I arrived at ASU with aspirations. I sacrificed and worked for 18 years to play my first game in a Sun Devil uniform. I wanted to win conference and national championships, to have my name etched in the record books, engraved on trophies, and spoken in the same breath as the heroes I looked up to growing up.
Those lofty hopes and dreams disappeared Feb. 20, 2011, replaced with simpler goals: to be independent, to live a normal life, to walk again.
When you’re faced with a situation like the one I’ve gone through, it can be easy to give up, to shut down, to disappear.
I’m not into easy.
After I was injured, I leaned heavily on my immediate family – parents, brother, close friends. But as those first few months went by, I realized something important was missing - my Sun Devil Baseball family. I needed to be with my boys, to hear the crack of the bat and snap of the leather.
I started to wonder if things would be different between us now that I couldn’t contribute on the field. How could I still identify with them, when my entire identity had changed?
I could have been marked as damaged goods and cast out, but the Sun Devils brought me in even closer. I am a piece of this program.
After I graduated, similar thoughts from a bygone year began to creep back inside: How do I stay close to baseball, to my identity, now that my Sun Devil days are over?
I could have never been able to realize my dream of being in Major League Baseball, but the Diamondbacks wouldn’t allow it. I am a part of this organization.
What it’s like to be a Sun Devil and a Diamondback is one in the same. You give your heart and soul every day, you care about those around you; you’re not just co-workers and colleagues, but family members.
The College World Series and World Series, postseason appearances and playoff berths, Golden Spikes and MVP awards, All-Conference and All-Star. The accolades and honors are great, but that’s not what these two baseball families are built on.
The Cory Hahn Center Field Scholarship Endowment might bear my name, but it’s certainly not about me.
It’s a culmination of the countless people who put their time and effort into making Sun Devil Baseball the storied program it is today. An extension of those who truly care for and love what the tradition and legacy represent, and who want to create more opportunities for young men to become a part of a family that lasts a lifetime.
This endowment embodies the family feeling the Devils and D-backs both exude, and illustrates what they both represent: the close bonds between alums, players, coaches, staff, and of course, fans, that last forever.
I’m in a unique situation having been a part of three different Sun Devil head coaches: Pat Murphy, who recruited me, molded the program for 15 seasons; Tim Esmay, who coached me, lived the program as a player and coach; and Tracy Smith, who accepted me without hesitation, has carried that torch into this latest chapter.
Baseball has created such a special connection between myself and so many people, and through all the up’s and down’s of the past five years, I still consider myself lucky.
Helping others achieve their dreams has proven to be just as meaningful – no, more meaningful – as reaching my own.
Financial health and stability is the driving force behind all collegiate athletic programs, and to have the opportunity to help put Sun Devil Baseball in a better position in the future is a great honor.
I’ve been welcomed into a family that will always be there for me. Now it’s time for me to help that family continue to flourish.
Let’s help create something special for Sun Devil Baseball. Together.