I learned I could cry tears of happiness and be cool both at the same time when I was 10. As I enjoy looking back on this weird sounding awkward story, I can certainly say it is a cute moment in my childhood. In fact, I believe there is a fun lesson to share in it even now for adults to walk away from this story of what I fondly call having “base balls”.

Having “base balls” is knowing the truth behind any situation and owning it for yourself outright.  Knowing that you have complete total leverage to act on and succeed in any situation is important in life. I realized this concept for myself on the ballpark diamond and know many can identify this fun grass-root approach to a well rounded lesson. In fact, I have had a burning ambition to capture this essence before this essay’s and blossom it into a book in which I hope to tie in this year’s Philadelphia Phillies Major League Baseball Championship. (I am predicting that early here!)
When I was growing up, the week of my birthday was truly the best week all year around except second only to Christmas. You see, my birthday falls on the weekend even the same day sometimes that the Cincinnati Reds throw the first pitch for Major League Baseball on Opening Day. Pete Rose hit a triple the instant I was born and since I’ve been a pure blooded fan of baseball.

My father coached my little league team every year. Religiously at the end of practice on the first day of the season, he’d ask us “Do we want to have fun, or work together to win it all this year?”. I remember all us kids sitting on the bench that our feet could not reach the ground would scream we want to “WIN!!” What some at the end of the bench didn’t completely grasp though was that choice meant some strategic consequences. If each of us did not practice well, we might not play as much. That went for even me!

Although some would not play as much as others I think we understood enough where we were ready to accept whatever happens to have a big season. I knew inside every spring opening parade down the city main road, I always would play because I knew I had practiced harder than anyone. Harder than even what level my dad pushed me. He was always good at winning and still making the season fun for all us kids regardless of every game’s outcome.

I do not remember one year my Team did not win our little championship. I still even have my trophies; tokens of my great annual conquest. One season especially I remember there was a really intense competition. Our light-blue Angles Team and the navy-blue Padres were both undefeated except splitting one loss to each other. Although we played each other only twice all regular season, scouts from both crews sized up every player for weeks profiling for the big game. Even when we beat the maroon Twins team in the division finals our focus was always on confronting the Padres.

It was in the classic bottom of the last inning and we were tied in the Championship. It had been three extra innings in the bottom of the 10th. This was a lot of innings for a little league game, even for the parents. More so, I even remember the score was 2 to 2 with us Angels left to bat. To lead off the inning, Nigel Lowe our right fielder struck out. Out Number one.
Nakara Stevens, our shortstop popped out. Two. Our catcher Troy Tuck however singled onto first base. Alas, it was suddenly my turn to bat.

I knew the pitcher would be hungry to get out of the inning. I knew he would be coming right for me to get me out. I quickly began to foul off a lot of heated pitches. Troy was trying to steal second base but every time he ran, I would foul off the pitch and he had to return to first.

This relieving pitcher was a tough closer. I couldn’t get around on this guys fastball. By this time, eight pitches into the at bat, I was feeling the pressure. I couldn’t even get myself to look at my dad or any of the parents or peers for encouragement. I remember that feeling. I was talking in my head reminding myself it was just me and the pitcher; that is only who mattered in that moment in the entire ball park.

Ill never forget what happened over the next 5 minutes. Shaken and frustrated I did not know what to do. I had become paralyzed by my own exaggerated anticipation of the at bat’s outcome and overwhelmed with anxieties of fear that I would strike out. I stepped outside of the batter’s box and took a long time trying to collect my focus. My hands were getting clamming inside my tight white leather batting gloves. I lowered my heart rate took a deep breath; the air was cooling now twilight. I knew the pitcher was mad at me; so impatient but I did not care one bit. I recall my helmet was wobbly on my bobble-head and I straightened it as I looked out and gazed at the sun now setting. The bright October dusk orb pierced rays of orange lazering through the dark purple trees just behind the outfield homerun wall. I know I was nervous because I do not remember feeling my feet.

I do not remember stepping back into the box or even the pitch; but I do remember slicing a ball over the right fielders head right down the line. Troy was trying to steal again on the pitch, so he had a great jump at the crack of the bat. Since I saw him running as soon as I swung, I was confident he would try for home. I turned first base rounding for second as I watched the ball fly over me toward home. I looked back at home plate in anticipation and I slowed to a jog and began jumping as I watched Troy beat the throw. He literally jumped OVER the catcher to land on home plate and score the winning run!

Suddenly I was choking-up gasping for air. I was first afraid I yelled and swallowed a bug, but I realized I was in such excitement that I began tearing up all the while laughing! Awkward as it was, I realized how silly looking I was; it must had been a mess. I did not care at all how I looked. Nothing really mattered to me at all at this instant; only the glory in that we just won the game. As I struggled for composure, my steps off the field crossed path with the second baseman who was now irate and bitter. Maddened that he just lost, he came up to me and said that I was crying like a girl. I fought through my tears and caught my breath finally to laugh back him and exclaim “So. I just beat you!” And so, my “Base Balls” philosophy was invented.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 10th, 2008 at 8:41 pm and is filed under English Composition. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.