60'6"

I catch the ball.

I let my arm fall limp and smack my thigh, I don’t care. I look like an idiot. Today is not my day, sliders are sliding out of the strike zone, my fastball is getting smoked and I can’t spot my curveball. It’s just one of those days. My warmup felt great, I even felt like I was throwing harder than usual, but it didn’t matter to these guys, they are hitting everything.

I toe the rubber.

My fear is escaping through my pores, but I try to look stoic and calm. The guy at the plate crushed a fastball the last time up and he never bites on any of my sliders. He can tell every pitch I am throwing before I throw it. He’s going to get a hit, I know it, I just hope it doesn’t score too many. I just have to get through him to strand the two baserunners, not likely.

I take my sign.

The guy on first is fast from what I remember. I don’t know why he doesn’t just steal, he knows my move can’t fool anyone. I just can’t be so nervous that I balk the runner home from third. That would be embarrassing, but I am an embarrassment, so it’s going to happen. Everyone is noticing my meltdown right now, I will be out here forever.

I check on first.

What did I even do the last time this was happening? The second out feels like an hour ago. I am letting everyone down because I can’t get this strike for my life. I am terrible. I don’t even know why I play this game any more. My body doesn’t feel remotely coordinated, I probably look stupid right now.

I come set.

This is the wrong pitch to throw, everyone knows I am going to go with a front door slider. All he has to do is wait on it and he’ll launch it to left field for his third hit. Why hasn’t the guy on first stolen second yet? He clearly knows I’m off my game. I can feel everyone hate me right now, they all think I’m trash and want someone else.

I break.

My upper half is out of sync with my lower half, my last three pitches have been off my back foot. It’s amazing that I even have two miserable strikes to go along with those two balls.

I push.

Blue sky. Green grass.

I release.

“Strike three!”