Teaching the fine art of hitting and living

By Bill Sanders

For the AJC

Joined in a circle with teammates and mentors, arms linked, Chris Traylor, recited the Ambassador’s pledge: “I am proud to be a creation of God. I am thankful for this opportunity to be a L.E.A.D. Ambassador. I am my brother’s keeper and together we will achieve greatness.”

The 17-year-old boy next climbed inside the batting cage and, with swing after swing, found the sweet spot, tattooing the baseball as if it were a matter of life and death.

Traylor’s spiritual and athletic well-being were in play, rather than his mortality. He was one of 17 inner-city players getting schooled on the finer points of baseball and life by C.J. Stewart, often more recognizable as a paid instructor who polishes the games of the Atlanta Braves’ Jason Heyward and Colorado Rockies’ Dexter Fowler.

For three years, Stewart has offered L.E.A.D., a non-profit group that stands for launch, expose, advise and direct. Players receive year-round baseball training — and much more.

Stewart had a revelation that extended well past balls and strikes: What if he could teach these kids what it meant to be civic-minded men? Would it keep them off the streets? Would they receive scholarships? Would they become mentors for middle-school players? Would the parks get cleaned, mulch spread and homeless fed?

If he were as good at teaching baseball as he thought, Stewart decided, he could do this.

A pool of blood

No mother should ever find her son lying in the street in a pool of blood. Yet this is where Stacey Strozier, after receiving a frantic call from a neighbor, discovered young Chris Traylor.

“I didn’t know if that was it for my boy,” Strozier said.

Last April, Traylor walked down Oakley Township, one street over from his house on Rock Hill Court in Union City. He had just texted him mom, “Be home in five minutes.” At 8:24 p.m., a car drove up, an arm reached out the window and shots were fired. Traylor was hit in both legs.

Traylor now understood why his mother had been telling him for years, “Son, even if you don’t find trouble, trouble can find you.”

From that point on, Traylor decided trouble would have to go through a mentor and baseball team of brothers if it were going to find him again. He joined Stewart’s Ambassadors before his legs had regained their strength.

In Stewart, the teenager encountered a former professional player who operated his own baseball training business, instructing players such as Heyward and Fowler, and using those proceeds to support his family. The L.E.A.D. program and Ambassadors team, however, relied on donations from Majestic Realty Foundation, Major League Baseball, the Atlanta Braves and Tim Hudson among others to exist.

Stewart’s wife, Kelli, oversees the non-profit business operations. It costs $8,000 for each L.E.A.D. player to be trained, equipped and travel to summer tournaments, she said.

No one else does what Stewart does, said Brandon Smith, another local baseball instructor and friendly competitor with Stewart for business. The two have done clinics and camps together.

“He’s one of the best instructors in America, very well connected to college and pro scouts and a very good communicator with the kids and their families,” Smith said. “What makes L.E.A.D. different is that this program is outreach, character-driven, but also top-notch player development. He takes these kids and mentors them as a father figure and pours into them more than baseball. It’s a total package, with a ministry aspect, a civic aspect and unbelievable player development.”

Education important

All 16 players involved with the Ambassadors so far have graduated from high school and attended college, with 12 receiving baseball scholarships.

That makes the program appealing to mothers such as Annie Stegall, whose son Desmond joined L.E.A.D. a year ago.

“I’ve always been big on the academic side for him and, with C.J., he’s getting exposed to a lot of different aspects of both baseball and life,” she said.

Desmond Stegall, a Mays High School junior, is fully aware the Ambassadors could provide him with much more than he would have obtained on his own.

“It helps that the people with L.E.A.D. understand where we’re trying to go, that we’re trying to make it to college and that we’re serious about those goals,” the younger Stegall said. “C.J. tells me all the time to make sure to prepare myself academically, because he’ll get me where I need to be baseball-wise. Being in L.E.A.D. has helped in my studies and my motivation to do better in school.

“The fact that, in my family, no one has graduated from college, that just makes it even more important to me that I graduate.”

Lots to offer

C.J. Stewart’s childhood isn’t a horror story. Not even close. Yet he grew up in the city, in the old Hollywood Courts housing project, and he isn’t shy about insisting that kids need to be shielded from that kind of lifestyle.

“When you live in an uneducated environment with no resources, you figure out how to survive, so you rob, steal or do whatever you have to to survive,” Stewart said. “That’s what we are rescuing kids from. Too often there are no conversations about college in these kids’ homes. No one is providing a pathway for success.”

A Westlake High School alumnus, Stewart was drafted by the Chicago Cub in 1994. Instead of signing, he played a year each for Georgia State and DeKalb Junior College. The Cubs drafted him again in 1996, and he turned pro and spent four years in the organization.

Stewart turned to coaching and training when his baseball career floundered. He was good at the new venture. He couldn’t turn on a pitch like Heyward, but he could see things to make Heyward better.

“C.J. doesn’t just tell me to do something and allow me to do it without understanding why it makes me a better hitter,” Heyward said. “I think what makes him a great hitting instructor is his ability to talk about hitting in a perspective you can understand and put to your own use later on in your career.”

For inner-city kids to take advantage of his expertise, Stewart demands something in return. The players and their families have to make Atlanta a better place to live. Players must complete a monthly community service project on a Saturday. They also must stay connected to school, keep out of trouble and be mentors to middle-school players.

“We serve young men who aren’t necessarily invested in the city,” Stewart said. “With the service piece, we want to show these young men you can be a strong part of the community now. They haven’t been introduced to that previously. We measure that with civic stats. If the kid has a high batting average, but low civic stats, he can’t stay in our program, period. And they know that.”

In fact, they embrace it.