Built to Compete

Ethan Widoff’s story of stepping away from baseball, chasing growth, and redefining what it means to be an athlete

For most of his life, baseball was the center of Ethan Widoff’s world. He trained year-round, played for one of Colorado’s top high school programs, and eventually earned a spot on a Division III college roster. But what drove him wasn’t just the game—it was something deeper.

He loved the fire. The edge. The intensity. He loved being in the arena.

And maybe that’s why he could eventually walk away—not with regret, but with confidence. Because his identity wasn’t just “baseball player.” It was competitor. And that stays with you.

Born Into the Game

Ethan’s first word was “ball.” His earliest memories are of playing catch with his dad or watching games on TV. His childhood heroes included baseball legends and football icons alike—Mark McGwire, Derek Jeter, Tim Tebow, Peyton Manning. It wasn’t one sport. It was sports.

He tried everything growing up. But by middle school, baseball became the thing—partially because it was the sport his family knew best, and partially because it gave Ethan a clear path to chase.

“It just sort of became the avenue for me to compete. I don’t think it had to be baseball—I just loved getting after it.”

By 6th grade, he had joined a feeder program for Cherry Creek High School—one of the most competitive baseball programs in Colorado. From then on, it was year-round. No breaks. The sport shaped his days, his friends, his identity.

The Dream Was Big—And So Was the Perspective

From early on, Ethan was convinced he’d play pro ball. He even attended a college showcase at Stanford the summer before 8th grade. His parents supported that dream fully—but they also made it clear: baseball wasn’t everything.

Academics were non-negotiable. So was being a well-rounded person. His dad, a former college athlete turned successful professional, modeled what it looked like to love sport and think beyond it.

“They supported every part of my baseball journey. But they also made sure I had other things to care about.”

A Leader Without a Spot

Ethan made the varsity team his senior year at Cherry Creek—but barely played. It was brutal. He had always been a leader on his teams, someone who earned respect through work ethic. But sitting the bench stripped away his voice.

“That season was really hard. I didn’t feel like I could lead if I wasn’t playing.”

Still, he believed he could play at the next level. And he was right. With no help from his high school coaches, Ethan self-recruited. He sent thousands of emails, traveled to showcases, and landed at Southwestern University in Texas, where he spent his first two years of college.

There, he thrived.

He outworked almost everyone—arriving early, staying late, lifting, grinding. His coaches believed in him. The environment felt right. He earned a starting spot, played in a summer league in Myrtle Beach, and for a while, lived the dream.

Knowing When to Step Away

The moment of clarity came during a pro day his sophomore year. Scouts were there for a teammate, and Ethan realized:

“I’ve gotten as good as I can get—and I’m still not at that level. And that’s okay.”

But it wasn’t just about performance. Ethan was also growing in new ways. He was reflecting on the locker room culture around him—one that didn’t align with the kind of man he wanted to become.

“I didn’t like what I saw. And I realized if I wanted to grow, I had to change my environment.”

So he made a move that few athletes get to make: he left baseball on his own terms and transferred to Colorado College to pursue something more.

Finding New Arenas

At CC, Ethan felt the absence of structure. That gap led him to rugby—a sport that gave him the physicality and camaraderie baseball couldn’t. Rugby introduced him to CrossFit, which became his long-term anchor.

He even had a short stint with the Glendale Raptors’ minor league rugby team, but the pandemic—and a deeper understanding of his own limits—pushed him to let that chapter close, too.

“I didn’t want to feel washed. I wanted to feel like my best days were still ahead.

Today, CrossFit gives him that. It’s where he competes. Grows. Leads. At 28, he feels stronger and more well-rounded than ever.

The Next Big Thing

Now, Ethan’s building something new.

He’s launching a social enterprise called ONE8 Denver—a community health and wellness collective centered around movement, recovery, education, and personal growth. The name comes from Jewish tradition (where 18 symbolizes life), and it reflects his belief that fitness isn’t just about looking good—it’s about living well and leading with purpose.

“I want to help people believe their best days are ahead. That they can always become a better version of themselves.”

That belief started with sport. But it didn’t end there.

What He’d Tell His 15-Year-Old Self

“Do CrossFit. Train for everything. Appreciate the moments you’re in—they’re some of the best of your life. But also know: life after sport is full of even better ones.”

What About You?

💭 Have you ever stepped away from something—even when people expected you to keep going? What did it teach you about who you are? Drop a comment or share your story—we’d love to hear it.

📬 Know someone navigating life after sport or searching for what’s next? Pass this along. It might be the reminder they need.