A Moment In Time
When I was younger, I used to play in an Inter City baseball league in Coudersport. I was 11 years old when I first started pitching. My coach had called me over from practicing defending ground balls to try out for pitching. He said I had made a great first impression and that I would definitely be starting many games for our team. Finally, my first game on the mound came along. I came in at the 4th inning as a relief pitcher. I had struck out the first two batters, and the third batter came up to the plate. I had a 1-2 count on him, I just had to strike him out and my first inning would be successful. I threw one right down the pipe, and I heard the metal bat connect with the ball, and I knew he hit it. All that I remember was the ball coming for my head, turning around …show more content…
My coaches were disappointed, but they understood completely why I didn’t want to. The continuation of my thoughts running around in my head was annoying me. “Just listen to them. They said the chance of that happening again is one in a million. Don’t let something like that ruin your game.” My coaches, my parents, my siblings, my friends, and just about anyone that was close to me was trying their hardest to get me back on the field. I tried my hardest to take in the words of my loved ones and use them to encourage myself to return to the field and put the haunting memories of seeing the ball flying at my head and being on my back, looking up at the sky into a mess of blurry nothingness. I came to watch my team play their first two games, only to see them lose both of them. I kept saying to myself, “Just do it. They’re counting on you. Get back on the field. Put all of those dark memories behind you. You’re fully recovered and ok now. The chances of it happening again are one in a million.” The next morning, I picked up my old hat, my ball glove and my bat, and I said “Dad, we’re going down to the field.” My dad was the most joyous person in the world after
When I was younger, I used to play in an Inter City baseball league in Coudersport. I was 11 years old when I first started pitching. My coach had called me over from practicing defending ground balls to try out for pitching. He said I had made a great first impression and that I would definitely be starting many games for our team. Finally, my first game on the mound came along. I came in at the 4th inning as a relief pitcher. I had struck out the first two batters, and the third batter came up to the plate. I had a 1-2 count on him, I just had to strike him out and my first inning would be successful. I threw one right down the pipe, and I heard the metal bat connect with the ball, and I knew he hit it. All that I remember was the ball coming for my head, turning around …show more content…
My coaches were disappointed, but they understood completely why I didn’t want to. The continuation of my thoughts running around in my head was annoying me. “Just listen to them. They said the chance of that happening again is one in a million. Don’t let something like that ruin your game.” My coaches, my parents, my siblings, my friends, and just about anyone that was close to me was trying their hardest to get me back on the field. I tried my hardest to take in the words of my loved ones and use them to encourage myself to return to the field and put the haunting memories of seeing the ball flying at my head and being on my back, looking up at the sky into a mess of blurry nothingness. I came to watch my team play their first two games, only to see them lose both of them. I kept saying to myself, “Just do it. They’re counting on you. Get back on the field. Put all of those dark memories behind you. You’re fully recovered and ok now. The chances of it happening again are one in a million.” The next morning, I picked up my old hat, my ball glove and my bat, and I said “Dad, we’re going down to the field.” My dad was the most joyous person in the world after