Eric Sim calls it his prison cage.
The bare-bones building, a five-minute drive from his home in Duncan on Vancouver Island in Canada, has served as his pitching haven the past seven months. The woman who owns the local batting cages gave Sim a key to access the facility whenever he wants. Early morning or late night visits are part of his daily routine. Because of the slippery concrete floors, Sim put a bucket of water on a mat to help stabilize his throwing sessions from a portable mound. Armed with baseballs and a Pocket Radar, the basic resources, combined with a dedicated training schedule, became the foundation of Sim’s ambitious quest: 95 mph or die.
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Sim, 31, committed to the challenge in June, attracting attention as he shared his process and progress daily on social media. The “JUCO bandit” and former minor-league catcher turned reliever hasn’t played professionally since 2016, when he appeared in seven games in an independent league. He wanted to push himself. He wanted to document his attempt to hit a milestone few people can reach. Sim clocked his first bullpen in June at 87 mph to 88 mph off the mound. On Nov. 26 – Day 151 of his training – Sim accomplished his goal and hit 95.
“Let me show you what it takes,” Sim told The Athletic of his motivation. “Let me show you all the work that I put in. Like, unless I’m working, I’m literally thinking and doing everything else to throw 95. … Everybody can do it for two weeks, but how long can you actually do it? That’s the journey, and you don’t stop that until you’re literally done playing.
“That’s something I wanted to share, the brutal work it takes. Velocity matters, and to get better at that, you need to train like that. You basically need to make your body go through hell and it fucking sucks, but at the end of the day, when you get to your goal, it’ll feel pretty dang good.”
95MPH FINALLY LFGGGGGGG
Took me exactly 151 days to get here.
Man what a feeling.
LFG@DrivelineBB pic.twitter.com/YY7J9sNKiK
— KingofJUCO (@KingofJUCO) November 27, 2020
About one and a half years ago, Sim realized he needed a hobby.
His work as a bar manager consumed him. At that point, Sim hadn’t pitched in about three years. One day he decided to throw for fun. He clocked in around 77 mph. His body, no longer used to the repetition, felt awful afterward. He started taking it more seriously, working out and pitching on his own over the next year. Sim found ways to keep it interesting. In February, he was tagged in a tweet by someone debating what would be the best fruit or vegetable to throw. Sim picked up a variety of options — avocado, banana, beet, pineapple, cantaloupe — and went to a local park to test how far he could throw them. (He thinks an apple went the farthest.) He set up his Pocket Radar to track the velocity of the throws, eventually testing items such as a wine bottle, toilet paper and golf clubs.
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“I’d like to have fun with it because I’m not trying to get better to sign with anybody or shit like that,” Sim said. “I’m just doing it for me. Doing something fun like that, I’m down to do that.”
In June, Sim finally went all-in on his attempt to throw 95 mph. He started working with Driveline Baseball, whose CEO, Mike Rathwell, heard about his mission to seriously ramp up with a throwing program. Sim was familiar with the Seattle-area based facility from working out there as a minor leaguer. He teamed up with Driveline trainer Dean Jackson, who helped him build a strategy to get to his 95-mph goal. Jackson and Sim initially met in 2015; Jackson was in college at Arizona Christian University at the time. They trained together the next year while Sim and Jackson were in the Giants and Diamondbacks organizations, respectively.
When they reconnected in June to discuss a game plan for Sim’s “95 or die,” Jackson identified the main problem with Sim’s approach. He thought Sim’s lifting and throwing schedules weren’t properly synced. One of the first adjustments was fixing Sim’s timing for different exercises. He wasn’t giving himself enough recovery time in between similar high-intensity exercises. Sim was training at maximum intensity seven days a week, “which, if you’ve ever meet him in person, that makes total sense,” Jackson said.
“The problem with that is as you do that, over time, your body isn’t actually recovered so you can’t really try as hard as you can,” Jackson explained. “The stimuli goes down in terms of effectiveness and you don’t get as good of an adaptation from that. You can’t try as hard because you’re fatigued from what you’ve done before.”
Finding the right mix of exercises and recovery time for different areas of the body can require a bit of trial and error. The implemented changes helped Sim go from throwing 89 mph to 94 mph in about four weeks. Eventually, though, Sim plateaued and his velocity ticked back down to the low 90s. They evaluated his program and discovered his arm and body still weren’t recovering properly. Jackson switched Sim from a four-day program to a five-day routine. He was pumped, and a little surprised, when a couple of weeks later, Sim’s hard work produced 95 mph on the radar gun.
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“I expected him to need to be at Driveline in a really intense environment with a bunch of people around him to get going to hit 95,” Jackson said. “So in no way did I expect him to hit 95 in the ‘prison.’ That was crazy.”
A graph Sim shared on Twitter showing the ups and downs of his journey to throw 95 mph.
Transparency was a priority for Sim during the process. Highlighting failures and struggles was as important as the successes.
“There’s a lot of things people miss, especially parents and kids,” Sim said. “They think, ‘Oh, I’ll go to a facility and then gain 10 mph in three fucking months.’”
Sim laughed.
“Like, no, that’s not how it works.”
To put 95 mph in perspective: Some professional pitchers, even at the major-league level, don’t hit that mark. During his minor-league pitching career, a two-year stretch in the Giants organization, Sim’s fastball averaged 92 to 94. His maxed-out throws in the batting cage aren’t the same as the finesse and control required in games. But this isn’t something someone off the street can do, either. The pursuit essentially became a second full-time job for Sim, who fits in his workout regimen and throwing around his 50- to 60-hour workweek as a bar manager.
Sim revamped his lifestyle after Jackson began helping him. As they developed their weekly lifting and throwing schedule, his diet changed too. He started meal prepping and consuming five to six meals a day, along with getting 10 hours of sleep, to help with recovery. Sim documents everything on social media through his Twitter account, @KingofJUCO, and a YouTube channel with videos that chronicle his journey via behind-the-scenes looks at the process.
Wear and tear comes with the territory. Sim recently dealt with a blood blister on his fingernail. Sometimes his left leg hurts because he’s bracing so much weight on it. Sim is coming off a nine-day “de-load” to give his body and arm a break; he still lightly threw each day to keep his arm active. He resumed his routine Sunday and was pleased to see his velocity at 92 mph. Sim plans to slowly build up to throwing harder.
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“I want to be open with everybody to show where I’m at,” Sim said. “I’m not trying to hide anything. Some people just post their personal records and stuff like that. I don’t do that. I share all the shitty days I have and the good days I have.
“Throwing hard is not a normal thing to do. For people thinking, ‘Big leaguers throw 97 mph all the time,’ I guarantee you not all of them feel good 24-7 every single day. Most of the time you feel like shit. You have a lot of these little aches and pains that a lot of people don’t know about, but again, that’s the risk you take and the price you pay. At the same time, you’re fucking throwing gas.”
Sim throws every day. The intensity varies. Every fifth day is a velo day when Sim “lets it eat.” It typically involves 75 to 80 total throws with roughly 15 to 20 maximum-effort throws off the mound. He warms up and plays catch before progressing to long toss and pull-down throws. Flat-ground throws are the final step before getting on the mound. It all adds up. A recovery day follows. On the third day of his weekly schedule, Sim has a hybrid day that involves a throwing volume between what he would do on velo and recovery days. The program will continue to evolve. The hurdles? Those will become harder, too.
Eric Sim changed his diet and started eating five to six meals a day as part of his routine. (Eric Sim)
Sim’s boisterous personality immediately stands out in any medium. His passion is impossible to miss — some swear words slipping in when he’s particularly fired up — whether he’s discussing his journey or the poor treatment of minor-league players.
Sim was born in South Korea and lived there until he was 13. He played at a junior college in Kansas and earned a scholarship to South Florida. He was drafted in the 27th round by the Giants in 2010, and spent his first five seasons in the minors as a catcher. He had a great arm behind the plate but struggled offensively once he progressed past rookie ball. In 2014, a Giants coordinator told Sim he needed to find something else; he wasn’t hitting well enough to stick. Converting to a pitcher was his only chance.
“When you do something for so long and then you do something else, it’s just kind of refreshing,” Sim said. “A lot of people thought being a catcher, it’s easier to transition to pitcher because you know how to call games. But when you’re pitching, it’s not the same thing. It’s a different animal. When you’re on the mound, you simply think different than when you’re catching. I thought that was pretty interesting.”
Sim put up good numbers at Low A in 2015, his first full season of pitching. But he was 26 then and wasn’t throwing hard enough, averaging 92 to 94 mph. It’s difficult for a right-handed reliever to make that work. After a pit stop with an independent league team where he once topped out at a career-best 97 mph, Sim stepped away from baseball in 2016. His six seasons of minor-league ball had opened his eyes to how players are treated. In the years since he stopped playing, Sim has been an outspoken supporter of fair compensation for minor leaguers.
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“I literally hated every single year because of the pay, basically,” Sim said. “That’s all it is, really if you think about it like that. Ten years ago, we had to buy pizza slices between games, $2 apiece. … At least they’re getting good meals and stuff like that now, but either way, the point is, there’s no reason for them to get paid below poverty wages. It’s not humanly right, and I’ve done it and it fucking sucked and I don’t want to do it again.
“I speak out for them because I know they can’t. I couldn’t speak bad about anything in our organization.”
Eric Sim in 2013 when he played for the Augusta GreenJackets. (Tom Priddy / Four Seam Images via AP Images)
Sim recalled one of his minor-league roommates once tweeted something seemingly innocuous, perhaps about the sandwich they were given for lunch. Within five minutes, his teammate received a phone call from someone in the Giants organization about his comment. Sim realized then how closely teams monitor what minor leaguers say in public. The financial challenges the players face remain a huge issue. Sim estimated he had $500 in his bank account after six years in the minors.
Although some things are better than when he played in the minors, Sim wants to continue to advocate for players. His work has gone beyond speaking out publicly. Since 2018, Sim has raised approximately $8,700 during three different campaigns, ultimately donating the funds to 10 different minor leaguers. He did one during the COVID-19 shutdown this summer, and currently has another through a GoFundMe that runs until Dec. 25 called “Help a Minor Leaguer 2020.” The money will be given to a few minor leaguers in financial need on Christmas; so far he has raised nearly $5,500,
“If I didn’t go through it, I don’t think I would ever know,” Sim said. “I would just be hearing stories and go, ‘Oh, it can’t be that bad.’ I’ve been there. It’s worse than you think.”
The feedback Sim has received from people online since he started his throwing quest is almost overwhelming.
He tries to respond to as many messages as he can. Some are from coaches looking for advice about throwing programs. Often, it’s younger players or minor leaguers reaching out to say they’ve enjoyed watching his journey, or that they’ve started setting their own goals.
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Hitting 95 mph is not the end for Sim. Inspired by his fruit and vegetable-throwing experience this year, he plans to see if there are any related Guinness World Records he could attempt to break in 2021.
“I’m not even joking. I’m going to try that,” Sim said, “so stay tuned.”
One thing Sim won’t be doing is trying to get back into affiliated baseball: “95 or die” has always been about challenging himself.
Sim ultimately has his sights set on throwing 100 mph. It’s a long shot. He’s certainly going to try, though. Unlike the 151 days it took to hit his previous milestone, Sim anticipates this next goal could be a one- to three-year project. Right now, on a micro level, Sim is focused on being more elastic. He has the necessary strength, but wants to be more athletic when he pitches. He’s trying to move his body differently. He and Jackson haven’t tried certain training strategies yet; Jackson wanted to keep a few ideas in his back pocket rather than exhaust every option to get Sim to 95 mph slightly faster.
“Personally, if we can get him to PR, if we can get him to hit 98 mph, that, to me, is amazing,” Jackson said.
A move to Arizona is on the horizon. Sim and his wife, Bianca, will be settling in Scottsdale. Jackson is based in the area, too, and they plan to finally work together in person again after travel restrictions prevented them from meeting up this year. Warmer weather and better facilities won’t hurt, either.
“Me training in the ‘prison’ for over two years now, it taught me a lot of lessons too,” Sim said. “If there’s a will, there’s a way. I showed that and I learned that. The grittiness of it. I’m going to miss it, to be honest.”
(Top photo of Eric Sim in the “prison” courtesy of Sim)
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