Essay on Conquering My Fears

As soon as I made my very first varsity baseball appearance, I knew that I had to be the very best I could be or there was never going to be a chance of ever putting on that white and maroon crisp cleaned dri-fit Russel number 18 jersey. My heart was beating beyond faster than it should be at my first at bat because I had always heard “Just wait you haven't seen nothing yet, wait till you face them varsity pitchers.” Players older than me had constantly been saying that throughout my freshman season and it kept repeating over and over in my head like a broken record. Although I had studied the pitcher and had seen with my very own eyes, he wasn’t as good as everyone talked him up to be. I was still overawed and very nervous about messing up.

It had been a long season, many losses, but many learning moments, we were second to last in the league and only had about ten wins. The only thing we had going for us, the playoffs. We had tied the West Kent Hawks and beat two other teams 7-1 and 10-2 to make it here, and there I was. Sitting in the locker room with a blank stare and hands hanging from my chest guard, this is usually what happens before games. I was anxious to get on the ice, but neverous too, because this is how the little caesars playoffs work.

In my previous years I hadn’t been as committed to my development as I should’ve, and now wish I had been. I made a vow to myself after that game to get serious. It was time to step up as a leader on the team, and show everyone that I had it in me to be great. I couldn’t suffer another season like the past three: promising signs throughout the entire regular season, but continuous disappointment in the postseason.

Clouds mugged the sun of light as the day progressed. Dusk filled the air on the baseball diamond where I would leave my legacy. Forth, was the championship game to be played, and the pressure of the starting pitcher, was not fazing me. In the zone, we said the Little League pledge. Jolts of excitement filled my muscles as I recited the piece that I know all too well. Warming up, I was controlled, and was ready to bring it. The game began with a bang. Strikeout after strikeout I fired, giving my all every single pitch. ‘BOOM’ went the glove after every pitch, whizzed right by the petrified batter. However, this was not much different for our team. Just two hits filled the board, I and my teammate Ian Keth. Scoring off of this was efficient,

This particular Sunday, we had already played four other games. We were nearing the end of our fifth, the championship game, and I was almost up to bat. I slipped my gloves on, black with white lightning stripes, giving me a sense of power. The player up to bat sadly strikes out, giving us our second out as the game is tied. The ump looks at me motions for me to approach the plate. I stepped out of the practice circle and took a few practice swings. Lift, step, plant, twist, bring the bat around, follow through, slap. Lift, step, plant, twist, bring the bat around, follow through, slap. Over and over, the same swing I’ve spent countless hours perfecting back at our practice academy in Olathe.

The second championship game began much like the first. By the seventh inning the score was seven to one in favor of Waterloo Valley. Being the home team, we had one more chance for survival in the bottom of the inning. The inning started with one hit after another, raising the team’s spirits with each one. The hits just kept coming until we finally found ourselves only down by only one run. The excitement in the dugout was soaring, and so, with a runner on third base and two outs, Coach Sullivan put in Jakob Crampton for what could be the final at bat of the season. After strike one the anxiety became overwhelming. With the second pitch on its way, Crampton swang the bat, and the dugout exploded into cheering as the ball found its way between the third baseman

I could feel the pitcher’s stress from 200 feet away in the dugout. We were up five at the top of the eighth, but the win was not secure. I could tell the pitcher was struggling to keep his composure. Suddenly, the coach calls me to warm up in the bullpen. I was excited and nervous to enter the game; I knew my warming up would add pressure to the pitcher and this was the Legion Sub-State Semifinal game, which determined our chance to advance to state. By the time I got to the mound, the bases were loaded with two outs. I noticed the packed stadium, felt the sweltering 90 degrees, and sensed the crowd’s tension. I had never pitched against this team, so I relied on communicating with the catcher. I threw a knee high fastball--STRIKE ONE. Next, I threw low and away curveball--STRIKE TWO. The catcher signaled a high fastball, knowing the batter was expecting another curveball. The batter chased the ball--STRIKE THREE. We won the game and moved on to finals. Two hours in the dug out, five minutes in the bullpen, and thirty seconds on the mound--not to mention fifteen hours a week, ten months a year for fifteen years--all culminated in a few seconds to advance

I really didn’t do to well hitting but the rest of my team did and that’s what meant a lot to me and watching my teammates making plays and working as hard as the possible can play in that field made me supper happy. It came down the last inning and we kind of just fell apart in the field but we still have to fight and play hard and just because we are losing doesn’t mean we stop playing. The game finally came to the end and the seniors started getting emotional and then everyone on the team started to get a little emotional it was a very hard loss for the whole team and the coaches. After knowing that we had a great season the team got together for one big last eagles on three for the

The first pitch came in. ¨Ball outside,’’ the umpire said as I stepped out of the box to take a breather. The second pitch came in as a Strike as I tried to get a hack at it but it broke across the plate. I stepped out of the box to regain my composure. Bases loaded 1 out. The third pitch came in and was a fastball that was traveling across the plate at 72 miles per hour, but I got my bat on it at the right time and the ball was in the outfield in a matter of seconds. The ball rolled passed the outfielder as I ran the bases as fast as I could. The outfielder struggled to get the ball in and threw to the cutoff man. By the time he got it in I was already at third for a straight up triple to score three runs to tie it up . “ Timeout,” I called as I took off my helmet and got ready to pitch.Jose took my place to pinch run for me as I needed to start warming up to pitch.

I remember the time I arrived to the plate with a man on third base in the bottom of the 9th inning when my team was down 1 run. I stepped out of the box to take a look down the third base line for signs and what he told me to do was “Cody, do your job.” I gave my coach a nod and went back into the box. I stepped into the box and my mental thinking was, “leave nothing back and let’s win this game.” The pitcher started his windup and throws strike one to me and then strike two. I finally realized that this next pitch was going to be a strike; therefore, I was thinking, “I am swinging on this next pitch.” The pitcher did his windup again and the pitch was thrown low and outside, and I took the swing. The ball landed in the hands of the shortstop man. I hustled down the line as fast as I could and I stepped on the bag before the ball hit first winning the game for my team.

The air was cold and eerie as my teammates and I got ready to take the field for baseball practice. Our coach called for a night practice in the middle of September following our devastating loss in the championship game a few weeks ago. “Let’s go! Start running laps around the field!” my coach shouted as players were still getting dressed and warming up. Most of my teammates still shattered by the championship loss weren’t feeling enthusiastic about practicing. We finished running our laps and moved on to the next portion of our practice which was long tossing. I wasn’t aware that such a routine practice would be the one to change my life.

My most memorable baseball experience came not when I was eight, beating several of my friends on the opposing Little League team, not when I was 15, against our cross-town rivals pushing my school team into the JV playoffs, but just a couple weeks ago, marking the first win of the team that I helped to coach. It was just the second game of our season, and only an hour and a half long, but it was a representation of the backbreaking work applied by everyone involved. After my ninth grade year playing JV ball, I decided that I needed to focus on my school work, as it was tough to maintain my grades while juggling sports and other extracurricular activities. However, I continued to play club baseball, as my passion for the game never faltered. The trend continued in my junior year, as I needed to drop club baseball in order to keep up with the challenging courses I took. My coach, who I’ve been with since 6th grade, asked me to come back out whenever I was available so I could help prepare a team of the younger boys in the program for the upcoming season. One of my core beliefs is that it’s essential to give back to those who helped or supported you; the least I could do for all the years that my coach

The next day was our semi-final game against Turtle Lake. Our whole team was a lot more relaxed because we had gotten the first game off of our chest. Going into this early morning game, we were very tired, since it was nine o’clock in the morning. Along with being tired we were were more nervous this game because we knew this team would be better than the last one we played. But we were still excited and nervous at the same time. Our team got to bat first, and it was very easy to put some runs on the board early on in the game. I think it was because our adrenaline was kicking in. Later on in the game, they put some runs on the board too, but they still didn’t have as many as us, so that was a big deal at the time. Later on in the game, we had an inning where we couldn’t do anything right. Of course Turtle Lake tried to take advantage as much as possible, but be did okay after we had a team meeting on the pitcher’s mound. Then soon or later, we had gotten all three outs, but by that time, the score was 4-9 Turtle Lake. Fast forward to the last inning, we were able to come back very gradually throughout the game. Before we knew it, we were up by two runs. So before the first batter got to

As I stepped out and looked down the third base line, my heart was beating faster and faster, and I could hardly think straight. I stepped back into the box, and took my stance, I was a stiff as a board, and watched another pitch go bye.

I looked up at the scoreboard and the time read 8 minutes left. As I looked at the scoreboard I felt a jolt of energy enter my body. I had felt as if a fire was lit under me. My eyes opened as if I had just seen a ghost. I remember thinking to myself, “how can we lose this game?” I made a promise to myself that I would win 4 state titles while being at Battlefield High School. This was my sophomore year of high school and I had already won one state title, how could I give up now and let my dreams be crushed, I worked too hard for that to happen. In that moment I knew there was only one result I was going to walk off the field with, and that was with a win and another State Championship. I took a deep breath and thought to myself, “My team needs energy. They need a leader.”