Crack! was the sound of my bat as I hit it as hard as I could. The bat seemed to be part of my body. I was fully in my game mode. I looked out onto Quail Run’s dusty, dirty field; the sun was beating down on all the players. Then, I looked at the run-up board to realize I was up next. The score was four to six, and I knew that my hit could be the turn around the Terminators needed. As I walked out of the dugout, my hands were sweaty, my eyes bulged, and anxiety spread throughout my body from my fingertips to my toes.
“This is my chance to save the game. I won’t let my team down!” I thought as I approached the plate.
The umpire’s eyes were glued to me, watching my every move, deciding if I was going to hit the ball or not. He must have been remembering my first two strikeouts and was probably not expecting much from me. I thought I saw him creep an apologetic glance, but it quickly dissipated as he was not allowed to show any signs of emotion during the game. His glare just made my anxiety grow from high to overflowing. I felt as if I was drowning in it! Alas, I had to keep cool. I had to show no mercy to my opposition. I strained to gain control as I swung my bat just off the base for last minute practice. The movement of bringing my bat across my body, over my other shoulder seemed to calm me, and I put on a cold, expressionless face. I squarely set my feet parallel to the plate and stared out onto my foe, the pitcher.
My stare was as cold as stone and seemed to dig down into the very soul of the pitcher. She seemed to hesitate as if my aura was too menacing for her to bear. A chill ran through her spine as she rubbed the feeling off and prepared to pitch the large, worndown, yellowish-green softball. She finished her wound-up. The ball left her fingertips, sweat running down her brow. The ball was five… four… three seconds away. I pulled my bat back just a tad to help time the ball, moving the knob of the bat towards the ball. Two seconds…
I flicked my wrist and felt my muscles tensing, as if the world was just set on my shoulders. One second…
I felt the contact with the ball, and felt the ball bounce into my bat like a trampoline. I drove my bat through the ball, and concentrated on the spot my bat collided with the ball. Crack! The ball flew over the outfielders, their heads cocked, amazed at my incredible hit. They shouted for someone to get the ball in order to stop me, but I wasn’t waiting for them. I dashed across first and rounded towards second. The wind flowed through my hair while the feeling of accomplishment, mixed with the determination to make it all the way filled my heart and soul. This was my time to shine.
My cleats touched third base. A new rejuvenation flowed through me as I saw the opposite team start to throw the ball to the pitcher. Two other team mates made it home and my run would win us the game. I ran hard, harder than I ever had run before. The catcher squatted by the base, prepared to catch the ball. But I had different ideas of what the outcome should bring. No catcher in the world was going to stop me. My foot touched home. Shock suddenly caught up with me from the second I hit the ball. I made it! I had won the game for my team!
My team mates ran out of the dugout, screamed in excitement, and leaped for joy. In a daze, they ran over to me and a wave of hands poured onto my head. Apparently, slapping my helmet and shoulders was a way of congratulating me. But even their wave of hands could not overcome my feelings.
I had succeeded, despite the odds. I felt more confidence in myself, concluding anything I put my mind up to, I would succeed in. From my three years of preparing for this moment I finally knew how it felt to say, “With hard work comes great reward.”