Full Count

As I stepped into the mound, throwing a few warm-up pitches with my catcher, nerves overtook me.

My body felt jumpy, and overstimulated, I fidgeted as my catcher retrieved the ball I had released too late.

"Hey! Gilbert, keep your head on your shoulders!" My coach called to me. I held my glove out for the ball and nodded at his words.

"Get up there, Jones," The opposing team's coach hollered.

The first one up for this inning was #46, she was a heavy hitter, but she struggled with fast balls sometimes. I watched as she positioned herself in front of the plate, and then stilled and looked at me.

Ready.

I took a deep breath, then secured my own footing.

Focus.

I held my glove to my chest, tucking it in tight, as I took a deep breath. My fingers found their place around the stitching as I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my heart rate to steady itself.

Focus.

I opened my eyes, the plate was clear, my catcher waiting. Every nerve ending in my body tingled. Would I mess up? Would it be a strike? Maybe too low?

The thoughts were too fast for me to try and stop them, so I shoved them aside and pitched.

Ting!

The ball rolled outside the third baseline. A foul.

A hard one.

The other team's dugout encouraged her to get the next one, as my infield spurred me on.

I repositioned myself and willed my breathing to be even. I started my wind up and released.

"Ball one."

I cursed to myself so the umpire wouldn't hear and grabbed some dirt for better grip.

"Shake it off, you got it."

"We just need two, you got it."

I shook my head, trying to get a grip on myself. Just two more.

I didn't get two more.

Not two more strikes at least. I had struck on one, walked one, and the other two got on base. We managed to throw one of them out, but there was a girl sitting on third. The count was 3-1, and it was looking like I was about to walk her.

"Time, ump. Time." My catcher called to the umpire.

"Time!" The umpire put his arms out and signaled our team had called it.

As she jogged up, the infield followed her lead, and huddled around the mound.

"Hey, what's going on? You've had it all game, this is the last inning, and we're only up by two. We need you." Grace, my catcher, asked. The other girls followed suit, questioning, and reassuring me.

"Sorry, my arm's getting tired. I'm trying to get it done since there's not much left of the inning."

"Coach says we've got five minutes, we're partially up here to run the clock out a little bit for you. Can you finish this one out?"

I moved my arm around, checking my range of motion. "Yeah, I should be able to get it done. Strike her out, and that's game. I'll get us there."

My teammates clapped me on the back with their gloves and headed back to their positions. "Finish strong, Captain!"

The umpire resumed the game, and it was just me and the batter. All I had to do was give her a few pretty pitches and rely on my team to get it done.

Let's do this.

I zeroed in on Grace's glove, right there, that was all I needed to think about. The sounds of the people in the stands, the other team's encouragement, and my own team's fell on deaf ears. In this moment, all I knew was that sweet spot I needed to sink the ball into.

The ball left my hand, and I heard the sweet sound of it hitting leather all at once.

"Strike!" Perfect.

My team, and everyone in the stands shouted at the top of their lungs at what was probably the best pitch I'd ever thrown in my life.

"Hey, Gilbert. Give me another one of those and the team eats on me tonight." My coach shouted grinning from ear to ear. The excitement was contagious, and suddenly I was beaming with them.

"Three balls, two strikes!" The umpire's call was like a bucket of ice water, however. Great, I hate full count.

I shook out my limbs, hoping to get the jitters out. This was the moment where everything mattered. I rocked back and forth on my heels as Grace threw me back the ball.

"Come on, girl, one more!"

"You got it, just throw it in there."

"Do what you just did one more time!"

My infield kept my spirits high as I set back to the mound. I put my feet back into position. Millions of thoughts running across my mind, yet none all at once.

I shook myself out one more time and looked at the batter. I saw her smirk beneath her helmet, she had been watching, and didn't think I had another one in me. I dug my heels in.

Well now I'm definitely throwing it right down the center.

I threw her a wink back and straightened up. My glove went to my chest, and I stared right where I wanted the ball to go. My was body lined up, I was calm, the only thing left to do-

I pitched the ball, right into my catcher's glove.

"Strike three! Batter out, that's ball game." The umpire held up his hands, and the stands erupted in whoops and hollers.

I grinned from ear to ear as the batter looked back at the umpire in disbelief. She turned her eyes back to me in a glare.

"Jones! What'd I tell ya about getting around on those fastballs?" Her coach shouted from their dugout.

I returned her past smirk at full force, as everyone tackled me. Laughs, cheers, and smiles were the only thing I could see as we made our way to the dugout.

And I grinned like a fool.

As I got to the dugout my coach held his hand up, "Now that, is some good pitching. Way to go, Gilbert." I gave him a high five as everyone started talking about where to eat. We packed up our stuff and stepped off the field to let the next teams get ready.

Before we left, I stopped and took a look around the field.

The bright lights, the smell of dirt, the sound of the ball hitting the leather of the glove. All of it was home to me.

This. This is where I belonged. On the field with my team, playing softball. The adrenaline, the anxiety, the suspense... they all made winning feel so addicting.

As we made our way to our cars, everyone exhausted and hungry, and ready for bed. I couldn't help but think about the game.

And how I couldn't wait to come back tomorrow.