You're our most powerful hitter. I need you to start us off here kid. You can smack one and that’s exactly what I need you to do.” 

It was the top of the seventh inning in our league championship game. It had already been a long game in the scorching heat, and all I wanted to do was go home. But as my coach said those motivational words made my heart start rumbling. My heart felt like it was about to explode and rip out of my chest. The thoughts are the devil

“I’m going to lose the game, why do I have to be the one?!!?

 I tried to make the nervous feeling go away by telling my teammates, 

“This ball is leaving the solar system.” 

But then the second thoughts started to wave in again

“WHAT IF I STRIKE OUT, WHAT IF I POP OUT, WHAT IF I LOSE THE GAME!”

My heart was like a bomb ticking inside my chest, BA BOOM BA BOOM! As I try to look manly and confidently towards the dirty pentagon in front of the catcher, I try to walk like I owned the place. I took a deep breath and stared at the catcher into his soul. I confidently tell the catcher, 

“Watch this ball leave the world!”  

As my eyes bulge at him, I slowly step up to the plate and rethink my strategy to smack the ball. Again the thoughts hit me like a cruise 

“I’m going to strike out, I’m going to pop up, what if he hits me?!!”

Time slows down, and then like a flash moves fast. The other team is winning, five to four. We have a man on third and two outs. The thought of me losing the game makes me want to throw up. My hands are vibrating. I focus intensely on the pitcher, with his beige leather glove, sweat pouring into his eyes. The devil is talking to me in my head

“You're going to strike out and lose the game for the whole team. This is inevitable, it's going to happen and you can’t stop it.”

 Everything else fades out, and it’s just me and him. I stare back at him, as the ball slowly moves around in his leather glove like the earth rotating. My teammates on the bench started to talk smack and yell at the pitcher, 

“You’re so bad! You better watch out cause he’s hitting the ball so far it will go into orbit.” 

Then my teammates' voices are gone, and I’m left, staring at the pitcher without a single facial expression. I was concentrating so hard, I got lost in my thoughts. 

 “What if I strike out, I’M GOING TO LOSE THE GAME.”

     The pitcher quickly winds up. I see on his face how much he doesn’t want to give me a big fat meatball, right down the centerpiece of the bullseye. 

The thoughts are haunting me of me striking out, I think

“Please, Oh please, give me a good ball, don't make it a hard pitch pleaseee!”

He throws the pitch and all I can see are the seams of the ball rotating. As the ball starts to come my way I can feel that I am about to get an easy double. My body rotates as I stare at the ball. I hear only the ding of the bat and I feel nothing else. It's like I’m in the air flying through the clouds. A feeling of relief washes over me for a split second, then the fear starts to hit me in waves. 

I had hit the ball straight up in the air, what seemed to be miles high, as everyone stared at the sky in surprise. I started to sprint to first base, and I saw out of the corner of my eye how the center fielder was bobbing underneath the ball. I continued running on to second base, and could see the ball slowly start coming down. Depression started to hit me like a semi-truck. The ball, soaring down, landed into the center-fielders glove and I started raging with anger. I slowly walked the plank into the dugout, with fire flaming in my eyes. My head was on fire, but my coach tried to use his words and wash the flames away with water. He came up to me and told me, 

“It’s ok, you did your best.”

I was still raging into a bomb, tik, tik, tik… I could feel the words I was about to throw up. I walked away to get water to calm myself and took long, deep breaths. I glanced over at the other team celebrating their victory. They were jumping with joy, showing off the shiny, gold, masterpieces created by the master forger of rings. My words were going to explode, but my team and I just walked out and told them the good game as if nothing happened. On the way home with the depressing silent car ride, as the sun is setting in the distance, I told myself to never forget the game and use it as fuel everytime you go to the at-bat. A few weeks later, as I reflected on the events of that game, I realized that being the last person to do the job isn’t a bad thing, it's a good thing because it teaches you to be prepared and don't overthink it, you will sike yourself out if you overthink it.