The Road from 0 to 100: Michael Lepere’s Journey Through Pain, Pressure, and Perseverance

This article was originally written by Brian Weiss and has been reproduced here on Sportskeeda.

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“We did it, dad.”

For many, that opposite field single with no runners on base was meaningless. For the Lepere family, it was everything.

On October 16, 2003 in the small town of Beacon, New York, Michael Lepere was born. Michael’s father, Rich Lepere, exposed him to sports from a very young age and he was immediately invested. Michael played three sports all the way up until high school, until one stuck out above all: baseball. Although, unfortunately for Michael, something else would also hit him at an early age: anxiety.

Rich Lepere is very passionate about baseball, and coached Michael all the way from youth to highschool. Their strong relationship grew over the years, but it started with its growing pains.

“I used to get so nervous when my dad would watch me play,” Michael said. “I tried so hard to make him proud.”

Playing with nerves affected him both on and off the field. By high school it had seemed to get to a point where, in big moments, Michael’s nerves and performance anxiety would cause him to be overanxious.

When Michael was 15 years old, he was one of the best hitters on his team. His only problem was getting stuck in his own head. He would tend to swing at the first pitch a lot, just to avoid striking out.

“His mindset was not to achieve,” Rich added, “but almost not to fail.”

After that game, Rich asked Michael why he swung at the first pitch so much, and seemed to be content with “just putting it in play.” Michael told his father that he was right. He realized that worrying about what others would think was only hurting him.

In this moment, Rich claimed:

“That's when I knew he really honed in on the mental side of it.”

Rich was already Michael’s biggest supporter, but the bond strengthened when he realized the mental struggles that his kid was going through.

Rich told Michael, “I am going to love you the same whether you go 0/4 or 4/4,” which to this day Michael says “is the best thing that he [Rich] has ever taught me.”

By Michael’s senior year at Beacon High, he was pitching in a meaningless game late in the season, and one pitch altered the course of his entire career.

Michael was having a great year, both on the field and off. He stated that “senior year is the best year of high school, you're on top of the world” and “everything was going [his] way.” And everything was, until he stepped on the mound with two weeks left in the season.

The left-hander came set, and when he dealt, everything changed; something in his arm snapped. After testing, it was revealed that he would need Ulnar Collateral Ligament (UCL) reconstruction surgery, otherwise known as a baseball player's worst enemy: Tommy John surgery.

Hearing those words was absolutely crushing. “It felt like all of my hard work and sacrifices were stripped away.” Physically, it was daunting. Mentally, he used it as motivation.

“I came in with a sling and I was super motivated, super disciplined to come back and be on the team, but unfortunately, I just couldn't get ready in time.”

When Michael got to Springfield he had made friends with other members of the team but when the season rolled around, it was more bad news. The doctors informed Michael that he would not be able to return healthy enough to play. It left him lonely. Empty.

“My friends were on the team,” he added, “I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

It was the lowest point in his life, and it was extremely difficult on his biggest supporter. “It literally broke my heart,” Rich described it.

On opening day, Michael found himself in street clothes pacing back and forth behind the dugout waiting for his opportunity. As draining and difficult as this time was, he refused to give up. Eagerly waiting for his arm to heal, Michael hung up a piece of paper on his wall that year. That paper read: 100 hits.

Rich shared that during this time there was not a doubtful bone in Michael’s body. Michael didn’t hope, he knew he would prove everyone wrong and come back. Despite trying to stay positive, the weeks felt endless and the weekends grew longer. He would call his dad for hours just to have someone to talk to. He would ask his dad to come visit just to have someone.

“It got hard for me to see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

Michael would come to find that light next season. He suited up for his first season in two years, and came out hot. He posted a .347 batting average with 33 hits. Just on pace for his goal.

After an impressive first year, Michael’s junior season had high expectations. With that, comes pressure. He put so much pressure on himself to always be the guy that comes through. When he wouldn’t, it led him back down a rough path. He saw himself having sleepless nights, not talking to friends, and constantly in a bad mood. When he noticed this about himself, he knew he needed change. He wanted to become a leader in the clubhouse; Someone a first year teammate could look up to and see how to conduct themselves through a skid.

After the mindset shift for Michael, sophomore teammate Sean Lengyel comments that,

“Mike is the only player who, after an out, gets right up on the fence to support the rest of the guys.”

He started to be more like himself, and it showed in the book. Michael wrapped up his junior season with 33 hits at a .306 average.

Michael was just 34 hits away from becoming one of the few players at Springfield College to reach his goal of 100 hits, until tragedy struck again. Michael’s season, and career, was in jeopardy when he suffered cartilage damage in his knee.

Despite his injury, he tried to play in the Pride’s first game of the season against Western New England. Michael hauled out to center field, “unable to bend his knee,” Rich described.

Michael was forced to come out of the game, and a few days later he called his father hysterically crying, completely unable to get words out. Michael had been informed that he would not be able to play again until he undergoes further testing.

After working so hard to battle through the first injury, here came yet another river to cross. He visited five different surgeons until getting the green light to continue his senior campaign, but it would not come without its struggles. Getting closer to 100 hits with every swing, the pain nagging at him, it became a lot to bear. However, he stayed determined.

Lengyel claims that during this time, Michael was someone “that you have to drag out of the gym because he is trying to get stronger and better every day.”

33 hits later, Michael was suiting up for a game against WPI. His father liked to send him quotes before every game. Right before what eventually became the biggest game of Michael’s life, Rich told him:

“What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals. I will always be your number one fan.”

Michael was in the box in the top of the sixth inning, nobody on and one out. The five foot eight lefty awaited the pitch. He swung and hit a ground ball deep into the hole at shortstop, and there was no play at first. There it was, hit number 100.

After the game, Michael ran straight to his father with the ball in his hand. He gave his number one fan a hug and cried:

“We did it dad.”

“You did it,” Rich replied.

“No dad. We did it. You were always there for me, supporting me through everything.”

The moment Michael laid eyes on his father, everything came flooding back. All the dark tunnels where he thought there was no light. All the rivers he had to cross. The hours he spent in the gym despite countless setbacks. It was all worth it for that moment.

Michael used to be scared of his story, he used to run from it. Now:

“I'm proud to share it and embrace, you know, everything that comes from it,” he says, "If I had not gone through that rough patch, I would not be who I am today.”