Holding It Together
“He’s like, ‘I need help,’” says Conroy, who has been the Cardinals’ assistant athletic trainer for 15 seasons. He and his colleagues grabbed rolls of tape and started wrapping legs, elbows – whatever it took. “We taped him top to bottom,” Conroy remembers.
Somehow, Wainwright took the mound and got No. 200. “It was a huge, momentous occasion,” says Conroy. “But we always laugh about how much tape we used to get him out there.”
Moments like that – mixing skill, grit and an unswerving devotion to his players – have defined Conroy’s career. Starting out with old-school players like Wainwright, who would do anything to stay on the field, he has since adapted to a game increasingly driven by data.
“The biggest challenge for me is to balance art and experience with the objective numbers I’m given,” he says of gauging players’ physical and mental health. Data might show a player’s asymmetry, for example, “but my hands and his attitude are showing he’s fine.”
Other times, a player may look physically sound but be struggling off the field: “He’s not physically banged up, but emotionally this guy needs a break,” says Conroy. “It’s about having those relationships with the front office so you can earn the respect to have that open conversation.”
For Conroy, relationships are the job. “That’s probably my superpower,” he says. He traces his skills to being brought up by outgoing Irish-immigrant parents in North Carolina. “I can talk with anyone about anything.”
Initially interested in physical therapy at the College, he changed course after visiting the training room.
“I was like, This is incredible,” he says. “A great way to stay involved in athletics and potentially make a living at it.”
He immersed himself in the work, blowing past the required number of hours in an internship with basketball trainer Martin Travis. “I still tape an ankle the way Marty showed me,” he says.
After more than a decade in the minors, Conroy arrived in St. Louis in 2012 during a golden era of playoff runs. The pace was relentless. “During October, you’re running on caffeine and adrenaline,” he says. He formed close bonds with veterans like Carlos Beltran and Yadier Molina.
“They had a commitment to their contracts – to play, not sit out games,” he says. “It was a different era.”
Conroy was a big part of the team’s success.
“Great teams and organizations have a secret that goes beyond the talent on the field, and that secret is a support staff that embodies the culture of excellence and do extensive work behind the scenes to allow elite athletes to thrive,” says the Cards’ former manager, Mike Matheny.
“Chris has the unique ability to bring professionalism and expertise to a Major League clubhouse while also never losing sight of the fact that it’s a kid’s game – and to never stop having fun while fighting for a competitive edge. Chris made our very successful teams better. Period.”
Today, workload management, performance data and collaboration have reshaped his role, as trainers now work with coaches to improve player performance. While some of the old grit is gone, dugout culture has evolved in some positive ways.
“There’s been a huge revolution in paying closer attention to mental health,” says Conroy, who has found renewed purpose mentoring younger trainers and players, teaching them professionalism alongside rehabilitation.
This past year, he attended the MLB All-Star Game, an honor reserved for trainers once a decade.
“You get to interact with the best players in the game, and everyone treats you like you are their teammate,” he says, adding that it was a chance to reflect on a career built not just on keeping players in the game, but on forming relationships that make it worth playing. “I just love the people, and I love the team. I hope I’m around long enough to do it again.”