I am a Competitor.
I am a competitor.
I’ve only won 9 games total the past three years, but contended to my heart’s content in all of my loses. I’ve always been just okay at pitcher, but have always tried my hardest. Our team has never played in a playoff before, but if we did, we’d probably lose. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
We didn’t expect much this season, we never have. But I always hope for the best, always trying my best. Never give up. Our team has but two pitchers, two, and I am one of them. I’ve always been okay, but tried my hardest. This times different. We’re finally good. I’m finally good.
I am a competitor.
I, myself, as a pitcher, win over half of the games I start in, pitching more than 3 complete games. Our team, as a whole, ends up with a winning record. I bat leadoff, with an average well above .300. Our number two batter, Owen, bats about the same. But most of all, our number three batter, gets us home most of the time. Brock.
This is the first year ever that parks and rec. decide to have playoffs. We’re a seven seed. We have a double header on a musty, cloudy Saturday, if we win the first game. More like when. After the first game blowout, it starts to rain for the harder, more important, second game. A seven versus a two. It comes down to a wire at the end. Which team will come through with a win? I come in as a closer, and finish the game, one, two, three. Win.
I am a competitor.
Championship game verses a one seed. Even harder than the second seed. Yet everyone expects a win. Our coach. Our parents. Our team. We’ve come this far, and we will not settle for less than a win. Especially me.
Two outs in the bottom of the sixth. We’ve got to come through with this. I kick the dirt of shortstop with my right foot, pounding my right fist in my worn out glove. We have a lead Owen, just do your thing, I mumble to myself. Then he winds up, kicking his left leg high up to his chest, pulling the ball from his mitt, and kicking forward, leaning toward home. Doing his thing. I hear a whap! As I misplace the ball in the air. Then I catch its path, going straight up, an easy pop up. I rush toward it, but stop when I see Owen waving me off. Not once did I doubt he would catch it. Not once this season did I doubt one of our go to players. Not once did I doubt we would win it all. Why?
Because I am, and always will be, a competitor