Opinion: Career move pays off for Rockies' minor-league instructor

Tulsa, Okla. • Dave Hajek looked forward to his work after work.

After spending days in front of his computer at a Colorado Springs architectural firm, where he specialized in drafting, he traveled to batting cages to work with young batters.

He revealed secrets learned during his decade in professional baseball, which included 12 at-bats in the National League. He taught them to relax, to banish thoughts of failure, to expect to punish the ball.

He had a great time. He had so much fun that he told his friend Alan Cockrell he wanted to make a career change. In 2004, Hajek told Cockrell he wanted to teach batting for a living.

Really, asked Cockrell, then the hitting coach for the Colorado Springs Sky Sox and now the Seattle Mariners’ hitting coach.

Really, Hajek answered.

It happened so fast. A week later, the Colorado Rockies hired Hajek to work with batters in Asheville, N.C., home of their Class-A affiliate. In 2008, the Rockies promoted Hajek to craft the skills of batters in Tulsa, home of their AA affiliate.

For the past six summers, Hajek has worked in the sunshine, far from computers. He helps young batters tackle one of the great mysteries of sport.

It’s never been easy — and never will be — to connect with a baseball exploding toward the plate at 90 mph.
Hajek must find a way to teach prospects to expect success despite overwhelming reason for pessimism.

“I never planned to do this,” Hajek said last week as he sat in the sweltering Oklahoma sun a few minutes before batting practice, “but baseball gets in your blood.

“For me, it was that old story, that old question. Are you doing something for money or are you doing something you love?”

And he does love this job, with a few reservations. His home remains in Colorado Springs, which means he spends weeks away from his wife, Karen, and their children, Wesley, Sydney and Mallory.

“It’s time away from family,” he said. “It’s not the greatest pay, but …”

He was smiling. He finished his playing career in 1999 with the Sky Sox, and when he walked away he didn’t yet realize how much he enjoyed the game.

After he left baseball, he missed the hours spent trying to figure out how to hit that tiny white ball. He missed the camaraderie.

He’s at peace with his career. He spent years pushing and hoping for his chance, and he finally got it. He still cherishes his brief ride to the top.

He remembers a late summer afternoon in 1995 at the Houston Astrodome. He was resting in the Astros’ dugout, looking at a enormous sign hanging on one of the dome walls. It depicted a massively larger-than-life image of Jeff Bagwell.

Hajek looked at the photo, and then he looked at the man sitting next to him. It was Bagwell. Hajek knew, right then, he had arrived.

The young batters he works with don’t care about his past. They don’t care about the hits and runs he collected during his years in the minors.

They care about what he can teach them.

One of his primary goals is thought control. When one of the Drillers steps to the plate, there are a few million things about which he could be thinking. He might be thinking about the blonde in the seventh row, or a strikeout from the game before, or trouble with his car or …

Hajek wants him to think about one thing:

Getting a hit.

“Simplify your thoughts,” he tells the Drillers. “Do not let all the distractions enter your mind.”

First baseman Jeff Kindel is one of Hajek’s pupils, and he has bought into the thought-control goal.

“He’s taught me not to overthink,” Kindel said. “He taught me to be confident, to know I’ve done my work, and I’m ready to hit.”

Kindel talked a few dozen yards away from the Drillers batting cage, where Hajek was standing in the sunshine, enjoying his job.