Chris Sale has built a career on intensity. From his whip-like delivery to his relentless competitiveness, the veteran left-hander has long been defined by fire. But this week, in a candid interview that stunned even those who thought they knew him well, Sale revealed that the same fire nearly consumed everything he cared about.
Sitting back in his chair, eyes lowered, Sale spoke with a vulnerability that rarely surfaces in professional sports. “I used to hate myself,” he admitted quietly. “I let failure control me. I let it change me. And I almost lost the people I love because of it.”
The admission was as raw as it was unexpected. Sale, a seven-time All-Star and World Series champion, has always been seen as one of baseball’s fiercest competitors. But behind the intensity was a man grappling with the weight of expectations, injuries, and the crushing belief that he was letting everyone down.
After his run of injuries with Boston — the Tommy John surgery, the setbacks, the frustrations — Sale began spiraling emotionally. Each bad outing lingered for days. Each missed start carried guilt. He isolated himself, unable to shut off the voice inside telling him he wasn’t good enough.

“I felt like every failure defined me,” Sale said. “I’d come home angry, distant. I’d bring the worst parts of baseball back to a place that didn’t deserve it — my family.”
He paused for several seconds before continuing.
“I wasn’t the father I wanted to be. I wasn’t the husband I wanted to be. My emotions were running my life.”
Those close to Sale noticed the shift. Teammates described a man trying to fight battles no one else could see. Coaches urged him to rest, reset, breathe. But even as Sale worked to return physically, his mental burden grew heavier.
The turning point came during the 2023 season when he finally confronted the truth.
“I realized that if I kept going the way I was going, baseball wasn’t going to be the only thing I lost,” he said. “Something had to change.”
Sale began speaking more openly with teammates, family, and staff. He allowed himself to decompress. He learned to separate performance from identity — a challenge for athletes conditioned to measure their worth in results.
Atlanta, where he has revived his career, has given him space to reset. Manager Brian Snitker praised Sale’s openness, calling it “a reminder that even the toughest guys carry things we don’t see.”
“Chris isn’t just pitching better,” Snitker said. “He’s living better.”
Now, Sale says he feels a renewed sense of balance — a peace he hadn’t felt in years. He still burns with competitive fire, still demands excellence, but understands now that struggle is part of the process, not a personal failing.
“I’m still learning,” he admitted. “But I’m proud of the man I’m becoming. And I’m grateful my family never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.”
It wasn’t a headline-grabbing boast or a postseason declaration. It was something more human — a reminder that even baseball’s fiercest warriors sometimes need saving.
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