Baseball | 4/23/2026 8:55:00 AM

CROOKSTON, Minn. - The sun hangs heavy over the field, pressing down on everything like it refuses to let the game breathe. Heat rises off the dirt in waves, blurring the infield just enough to make everything feel a step slower than it should be. Behind home plate, Jackson Fliflet is already locked in, crouched low in his gear, sweat working its way down inside his mask before the pitch even leaves the mound.

This is where he lives now—behind the plate, pitch after pitch, game after game.

Fliflet, a catcher for the University of Minnesota Crookston, grew up in Wahpeton, N.D., about two hours south of Crookston. Baseball was always close to him growing up, shaped by watching the Minnesota Twins and just being around the game. He gravitated toward players like Joe Mauer and the way catchers controlled everything without needing to be in the spotlight. He always wore number 7 growing up, though now he wears 23.

A strong support system of friends helped carry him through those early years, pushing him forward and keeping the game fun. Eventually, that love for baseball led him to the University of Minnesota Crookston, where Coach (Steve) Gust gave him an opportunity he didn't hesitate to take. "I didn't really know what was going on at the time," he said. "But I took the offer, and I'm very thankful I did."

That decision didn't immediately turn into playing time. His freshman year, he redshirted while others traveled and competed. He only appeared in two games last season. But this year, everything changed. Now he's an everyday catcher, a consistent presence behind the plate, and someone his team depends on. "Last year I only played two games, and now I'm playing every day," he said. "Making a difference for my team is just a blessing on its own. What drove me to do the best I am doing now is the passion and hunger I had. I want to see my teammates doing well, and they want to see the same for me. I just want to show the younger guys it's possible."

He's been a catcher almost his entire life. That identity formed when he was 14 years old and his coach threw him behind the plate after the starter went down. He never left the position after that. "It just stuck," he said.

Now, every pitch runs through him. Every decision, every sign, every swing and miss. It's a position that demands toughness, focus, and control, especially in moments where everything tightens up and the game starts to feel like it's holding its breath. Fliflet leans into that pressure. "I like to just flush it and think of the next pitch mentality," he said. "Bad games are going to happen. Everyone goes through hardship. It's not always going to be perfect. We just move forward together."

That mindset has helped define a team culture he describes as a brotherhood. "If one person goes down, we all go down," he said. "We rally around it and find a way to succeed. We're not just an average team. We're going out there wanting to beat everyone together."

That belief showed in a recent win over Minnesota State, a game that meant more than just a mark in the win column. "It felt good," he said. "They don't even want to be on the same field as us. It was a nice upset. Everyone played well and it got the boys rolling." 

One of his biggest personal moments came earlier this season in Colorado Springs—his first swing of the year turned into his first collegiate home run. "It got my emotions going," he said. "It made me feel really good."

Away from the game, Fliflet keeps things simple. He likes being outdoors and hanging out with friends. His favorite snacks are green grapes—"they've got to be crunchy"—and he still remembers muffin tops from a recent trip as one of the best things he's had in a while.

Baseball, though, has not always been easy. During his redshirt year, when teammates were traveling and competing, he stayed behind. It was a difficult time.

"I got down on myself," he said. "I didn't think I was good enough. I struggled mentally." But he kept showing up, kept working. He kept trusting that things would eventually make sense. "I had to trust the process," Fliflet said. "Baseball made me happy, so I kept going out and hitting balls, just waiting for my chance. Looking back now, it was all worth it. It was God's plan."

He's built routines that keep him steady: one sock inside out on his right foot, always. Two Hi-Chews from the trainer. Three ibuprofen. Cleats taped. Music in his ears with no set genre, just whatever fits the moment. It all started when he accidentally did it one game in Colorado and played well, so he never changed it. The Hi-Chews, he says, are thanks to his trainer Shelby (Conard)—"I've just been popping them like candy."

His walk-up songs reflect the same energy: Trophies by Drake for the intro, and Shake That by Metro Station.

When asked about his biggest influence, he doesn't hesitate. "My teammates," he said. "They make me want to be a better player and a better person. Off the field especially. I just want to be right there with them, doing this with them. It makes it all worth it."

Behind the mask, in the heat, in the quiet moments between pitches, Fliflet has learned to stay present. To reset. To move forward. And when asked what advice he would give to younger players chasing the same dream, he doesn't overthink it. 

"Trust the process no matter what," Fliflet said. "I came from being a redshirt, not knowing what was going to happen. I went from playing two games to playing every day. So don't stop chasing the dream."