I Hate Baseball

I played baseball when I was in high school...at least, I was on the team. I was a pitcher, so I got to play maybe once every couple of weeks. And since I was pitching, I usually got DH'd, so my plate appearances were few and far between.

I do, however, remember one of my at-bats that lingers in my mind that changed the way I look at things.

I stepped up to the plate, and I can tell you that the sun was bright. Not in my eyes, like I should have complained...just oddly bright. I went through the same motions I have done since my t-ball days: tap the far and near corners of the plate, and wind the bat around a couple of times. I know I stole the moves from someone, but who it was didn't matter at that point, because the wind up came sooner than expected. The first pitch was a fastball right down the center, and I didn't even flinch. 0-1.

Now I'm a professional kinda guy, so I shrug it off as if I am just giving the other team a fair chance at this game by allowing the first pitch to sit prettily in the middle of the plate without doing anything about it. To this, the pitcher smiles at me. (Yeah, he actually grins like an idiot at me not swinging.) So I straighten my back out, and wiggle the bat around, then comes the next pitch: a fastball...in the exact same spot. 0-2.

At this point my coach is probably going mad inside. Instead of shouting out some encouraging tid-bit, he chucks a few more sunflower seeds in his mouth and checks his watch. Now , at this point, I was honestly expecting something different. No idiot is going to let two fastballs right down the middle fly by him without swinging away at them...

So the third pitch WAS something different. A curve in the dirt. 1-2.

Finally something went my way, and I felt more in control. The next pitch, the pitcher shakes off 3 signs, and guess what he throws...that same fastball...in the same spot. I'm locked on at this point, but get cocky in trying to decide where I want to place it in the field...so I end up being late and foul it off. Still 1-2.

What a battle. Only 4 pitches and it feels like we've been at it for days. Never before had I experienced such a battle of wits in which I had come upon such a worthy competitor. Part of me didn't want it to end, but with the next pitch, it did.

He hung is curveball up and inside and I casually directed my elbow at it. Hit by pitch.

We both stood in disgust. I was about to get a hit. He was about to strike me out. I trot to first base and stand there in disbelief. I realize that I will probably never see this kid again. Our battle is over, and though it is something he and I won't forget soon, everyone else on that field would say, "just another at-bat."

I have the mentality that I should have no regrets, only mistakes. And everytime I think of that at-bat, I get frustrated at my mistakes. But of course, I made something positive out of the experience.

I learned that hits are meant to be, and all you have to do...is swing.

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