You step up to the plate once again, and the roar of your team and the crowds' laughter and cheers and chants fades to silence in your head.
All you can do is your best, and that's all that's asked of you.
You were told to battle now, or it's over.
2 strikes, 2 outs. Bottom of the 7th. Bases loaded. Down by 3. No pressure.
Your heart wants it so bad, but your best is never good enough. Nothing is ever good enough.
Your heart is beating out of your chest, the sound of your heavy breathing is all that is heard.
Take a peek back to the catcher, the umpire.
Turn to face the pitcher, and your fears.
Close your eyes and say a silent prayer at the speed of light.
The wind up is coming.
It's now or never.
The snap of the glove on her hip, and the ball is on its way.
Don't blink.
You feel that glorious connection that you know from your dreams, enough to make Babe Ruth jealous.
Before you even know it, your coach is yelling 'All the way!' You're rounding first, second, third.
Almost home. Just a little farther. Push it.
Told to get down, so that's what you do. Sliding into home, the umpire is about to call...
'SAFE!'
You feel invincible, like you could take on the world, and tackle any challenge, when in reality, all you did was tackle the catcher. ;)
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Not Just Any Sport
It's not just any sport, it's not just throwing a ball, hitting and running. I live with the cheering of my players while I'm up to bat. I live with the red stitches of the softball rubbing against my fingers when I snap my wrist and let it fly. I live with mistakes every day in it, and I live learning them. I live on the pitchers mound where I need complete confidence in myself. I live with snapping my wrist to the catcher and getting the batter out, a perfect strike. I live not only for my teammates, but for my self. I live for fastpitch softball.--K.M., pitcher
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