Feet shoulder width apart. Knees bent. Weight on my back foot. Head down and still. My eyes concentrated on the pitcher. The determined stare of the opponent reflecting right back at me while I’m waiting for that ball to be released and zip at me. I hear a fellow teammate cheer me on from first base: “Come on, big guy! Let’s crack one out of here!” But it’s not as easy as it sounds.
Hitting a round ball with a round bat is one of the hardest things to do in sports if you succeed three times out of ten, you’re considered a hero.
The wind up and the pitch. Taking that small step forward and focusing on the white ball with the hint of red from the stitching. Starting to swing, I have that quick second where I am are able to think a complete thought.
Am I even close? This is so much pressure; I need to come up in the clutch here. Hearing the pop of the catcher’s mitt, I exhale with a side of relief and disappointment.
“Strike one!” shouts the umpire.
I step out of the batter’s box, knocking the dirt of my cleats and regaining my composure, ready for the next opportunity.
I step back in the box, perfect my mechanics and set myself. He winds up again. I’m ready to come up big, even though I swung and missed the pitch before. I can’t let that bring me down, though because at the end of the at bat, I’m just beating myself. The pitch approaches me; I take a good hack at the ball and hear the sweet relieving sound of the “ding” of the bat.
“Foul ball!” says the umpire.
I become slightly disappointed, but glad I am making progress. 0-2. I dug myself in the hole, but I’m not dead yet. Anxious, I take a deep breath and get ready for my possibly last chance.
I set myself up and watch the pitcher wipe the sweat off his head from throwing so hard. Just like me, he is composing himself. He’s ready. I’m ready. The pitch. Another solid ding, but this time I see the ball fly straight into the outfield, just missing the arm’s length of the shortstop by a foot. Excited and accomplished, I sprint to first base. I have reached my goal.
Baseball relates to what my life is all about, meeting frequently set goals. As I approach the plate for the first time, I ready myself and begin to concentrate. Every day, I ready myself mentally and physically to be prepared for the day. My fellow teammates cheer me on is like my family and friends who want to see me do well.
Not always succeeding in baseball is just as fine as not always succeeding in life. Many times I don’t accomplish everything I would like to. And that’s fine. No one is perfect. Just like the ball, life comes at you fast. There is no slowing it down, either. So I have to make my decision and be ready for what is coming to me.
If I fail, the right thing to do is learn from my loss and try again. No one’s perfect. So on my second attempt, I make progress. If I still don’t reach my goal, I would use to think I’m done, it’s over, I’ve failed, but that’s the old me. Instead, I am now glad knowing I have made progress and I become prepared for my next opportunity.
