Austin Meadows’ Latest Message Reminds Us What Really Matters
For the Pittsburgh Pirates, Austin Meadows will always be one of those “what if” stories. A first-round pick with all the tools you dream about-smooth left-handed swing, gap-to-gap power, and a presence at the plate that looked years beyond his age-Meadows arrived in 2018 looking like a future face of the franchise.
And early on, he delivered. An OPS+ of 114 in his rookie campaign hinted at a long runway ahead.
But baseball, like life, doesn’t always follow the script.
Soon after his debut, Meadows was part of the trade that sent him and Tyler Glasnow to the Tampa Bay Rays-a deal that still stirs debate in Pittsburgh. While Glasnow found his stride on the mound, Meadows exploded in the batter’s box.
By 2019, he was an All-Star, smashing 33 home runs and earning MVP votes. It was the kind of breakout that confirmed what Pirates fans already suspected: the kid could play.
And yet, even as Meadows was thriving in Tampa Bay, there was a bittersweet undercurrent back in Pittsburgh. Pride in seeing a homegrown talent succeed, mixed with that familiar ache of watching it happen somewhere else.
Then came the harder part of the story.
After a strong 2021 season in which he launched 27 homers, Meadows was dealt to the Detroit Tigers. On paper, it looked like a solid move for a team in need of offensive firepower.
But the game can be cruel, and what followed wasn’t about slumps or swing mechanics. It was about something deeper, something tougher to see on a stat sheet.
Meadows battled a string of physical setbacks-COVID-19, vertigo, bilateral Achilles tendinitis-but it was his mental health that ultimately became the biggest hurdle. He stepped away from the game, not because he couldn’t play, but because he needed to heal.
And now, years later, Meadows has spoken publicly about where he’s been.
In a recent Instagram post, he wrote, “Being out of baseball is hard… living life outside of what you’ve known for 25+ years is really, really challenging.” It wasn’t a retirement announcement or a hint at a comeback. It was something rarer: raw honesty.
For Pittsburgh fans who once envisioned Meadows patrolling the outfield at PNC Park for the next decade, his message hits differently. It’s not about what the Pirates lost in a trade or what might’ve been if things had gone another way. It’s about remembering that behind every prospect ranking and box score is a person-one who can struggle, one who can grow, one who deserves grace.
Meadows is still working on himself. He’s still getting help.
He’s still supporting his brother, Parker, now the Tigers’ center fielder. And he’s encouraging others to do the same-to ask for help, to acknowledge the hard days, and to move forward without shame.
Pittsburgh has seen its share of players come and go. Some became stars elsewhere.
Some faded quietly. Few have spoken with the vulnerability and clarity that Meadows just did.
The bat speed, the power, the potential-all of that will always be part of his baseball legacy. But now, there’s something more lasting.
Austin Meadows chose his health. And in a sport that often defines success by numbers and accolades, that choice might be the most meaningful win of all.