Before Jaydyn Goodwin steps into the batter’s box, before the crowd noise fades and the pitcher winds up, there’s a small, almost imperceptible ritual that takes place. It’s not flashy. It’s not something that makes highlight reels. But it’s become the heartbeat of her game, the part of her routine that grounds her, centers her, and reminds her why she’s here. In her recent appearance on The Walk Up with State Farm, Goodwin pulled back the curtain on a piece of her process that even some of her closest fans didn’t know—what she calls her “moment of realignment.”
Goodwin, one of the brightest rising stars in softball, has built a reputation not just on raw talent, but on a mental game that’s as sharp as her swing. And for her, it all begins before the pitch is ever thrown. In the segment, she explained that the most crucial part of her pre-at-bat routine happens just as she walks toward the plate. It’s not about what bat she chooses or how many times she adjusts her helmet. It’s a simple, purposeful pause.
As she approaches the batter’s box, Goodwin takes a deep breath and plants both feet just outside the chalk. Then she taps her fingers against her hip, twice on the left side, once on the right, and closes her eyes for about three seconds. It’s a signal to herself—a grounding technique that reminds her to stay present. It’s not superstition. It’s not muscle memory. It’s control.
She picked up the habit early in her playing career, at a time when she was struggling with overthinking each at-bat. At the time, Goodwin admitted, she was too focused on outcomes—what the pitch would be, what the count might turn into, what her stats looked like, how the opposing coach might be shifting the defense. That constant noise became a distraction. And it started to impact not just her performance, but her enjoyment of the game.
Then one summer, during a routine training session, a mental skills coach introduced her to the idea of “anchoring”—a mindfulness technique athletes across sports use to clear their minds and prepare for the task ahead. For Goodwin, it clicked. The idea wasn’t just about breathing or visualization. It was about giving herself a second to reconnect with why she played, who she was, and what she could control in that moment.
She started experimenting with different forms of this mental reset—at first, something as simple as touching the bat to the dirt, or repeating a word like “focus” or “breathe” under her breath. But eventually, it became the tap of her fingers and the pause just outside the box. It wasn’t long before that simple act became her prelude to power. Once she completed that small ritual, she felt ready. Not just to face the pitch, but to be in the moment, one pitch at a time.
In The Walk Up, Goodwin explained that while many players have routines—some take practice swings, others adjust their gloves or helmets a certain number of times—her process has always been less about physical repetition and more about emotional readiness. The taps on her hip, she said, represent a check-in. Left side for her passion. Right side for her purpose. She learned to treat each at-bat as a conversation, not a confrontation. And it all starts with listening to herself first.
That emotional maturity has come to define her approach to the game. Coaches rave about her discipline. Teammates respect her poise. But Goodwin is the first to say it didn’t come naturally. The pressure of competition, the intensity of the spotlight, and the weight of expectations were all things she had to learn to manage—and her pre-at-bat routine was born out of necessity.
What makes Goodwin’s ritual even more compelling is that it’s entirely internal. There’s nothing performative about it. It’s not for the cameras. It’s not something she created to go viral on social media. In fact, until her interview, few people even noticed it. And that’s the point. For Goodwin, that pause isn’t about creating a spectacle. It’s about finding quiet in the chaos. It’s about stepping into the box with clarity.
The segment also touched on how her routine has evolved over time. While the physical movements have stayed consistent, the meaning behind them has deepened. As she’s grown—both as a player and as a person—Goodwin says the pause now holds more weight. It’s a moment of gratitude, too. She doesn’t take for granted the opportunity to be where she is. And in that split second of stillness before the game resumes its rhythm, she gives herself the freedom to just be.
One of the most powerful moments in the episode came when Goodwin was asked what she thinks about during those three seconds. Her answer? “Nothing. That’s the goal.” She laughed, acknowledging that it’s harder than it sounds. But in those three seconds, she lets go of the scouting reports, the noise from the stands, the box scores, the outside opinions. She tries to clear the slate, to reset her brain and body. To remind herself: You’ve done the work. You’re prepared. Now just compete.
It’s not just a routine, it’s a skill—and one that doesn’t show up on stat sheets. But ask anyone who’s ever watched her play, and they’ll tell you it shows up in how she carries herself in high-pressure moments. Whether she’s behind in the count or down to her last strike, Goodwin never looks rattled. That calm, she says, begins with her walk-up.
State Farm’s series has featured a wide range of athletes, each revealing a different layer of what it takes to perform at the highest level. But Goodwin’s episode struck a particularly resonant chord. Maybe it’s because of how subtle her revelation was. Maybe it’s because, in an age where athletes are often defined by the big swing or the walk-off hit, she reminded us of the power of stillness. That before the roar of the crowd and the crack of the bat, there’s something just as important happening—a brief pause that makes everything else possible.
That moment, tucked away just outside the batter’s box, isn’t just part of Jaydyn Goodwin’s routine. It is the routine. It’s the mental switch that allows her to be the player she is. It’s the cue that tells her it’s time to be present. It’s her anchor in a sport that demands constant adjustment and unwavering confidence.
And maybe the most inspiring part? It’s something any player can adopt. You don’t need to be a future pro to benefit from a breath. You don’t need national recognition to take a pause and remind yourself why you play. Goodwin’s insight offers something deeper than a training tip—it’s a reminder that even in the most competitive arenas, there’s room for mindfulness, intention, and grace.
In the end, the bat will swing, the ball will fly, and the stats will accumulate. But long before that, Jaydyn Goodwin will have already won the moment. All it takes is a pause, a breath, and a tap to the hip. Then, she steps into the box—not just ready to hit, but ready to be.
