Short Story: The Center Fielder

Bryce Harper is the player that you love to have on your own team, but opponents can't stand him! He might have a swagger that annoys opponents, but he is one heck of a baseball player and this year he is breaking out to the superstar everyone expected! He is just 22 years of age and he is one of the most feared hitters in baseball. He has battled injuries to start his career because of what some have termed too much hustle, but this year he has put all together. He is hitting .331 27 home runs and 64 runs batted in the no question NL MVP at this point in the season. He might rub fans and opponents the wrong way but he is fun to watch play baseball I just wish as a Braves fan he was in a different division.

Thus is the nature of baseball, a fickle game wrought with tradition, the foremost of which is the iron clad law mandating that the game is cruel and will take away as freely as it gives. My father always told me, “Baseball is a game of errors - the best hitters fail seven out of ten times - the key to success is knowing how to deal with the failure.” It is this aspect of the game, its want to frustrate and demoralize the player, that I think has driven most of my

Imagine standing on a softball field expected to perform at the age of 5. Even though the butterflies in my stomach were starting a war, nothing was going to stop me from stepping on that field to play my first tee ball game as a Little Tiger. Fans cheered, but what I noticed most was a little boy in the outfield picking his nose. Standing in the box, I was terrified; the field looked huge. I had never seen anything like this before, but I knew that the little boy was the person I needed to hit the ball to, so I hit the ball as hard as I could. The ball went soaring through the air like a bird on fire. Dropping from the air, it rolled to the fence. At that time, I knew I had fallen in love with the game of softball. I was smiling from ear to ear, I couldn’t believe I had hit the ball that far! Both sides screamed, yelled, and shouted with excitement. Was all this commotion for me? I rounded first, but I couldn’t go to second because my teammate, Kylie Leach, didn’t run. I didn’t know what she was doing. Sadly, the batter after me hit a ground ball to the pitcher, and the other team threw him out at first.

“Take your base,” yelled the umpire as Kevin was hit with a pitch on his back. Kevin trotted at a snail's pace down to first base, his face was filled with agony as he grabbed his rib cage. As the game proceeded the pain from the pitch increased but Kevin thought it would eventually go away so he played through it. The game went on and it was close all the way till the end but the Stars pulled out the victory. They are now the 2016 South Carolina 2A High School baseball Champions. The team went crazy, the fans rushed onto the field to celebrate the victory with them. The team and the fans were bumping and brushing up against one another while they were screaming and hollering. Kevin was in the middle of the crowd with all his friends and

It was a nice and sunny day, with birds chirping and the smell of freshly cut grass. I felt the leather on my baseball glove and the delicious taste of cereal. I’m ready to play some baseball.

My breakfast started to creep back up my throat as game time got closer and closer. I walked across the patch of grass behind home plate and was towered over by the 30 foot backstop with a huge net suspended from it. My bulging bag of equipment was beginning to make my shoulder hang. I walked down the steps into the cement dugout and placed my bag under the bench that spanned the entire length of the dugout. I sat down, laced up my cleats, and put my warm-up jacket on in preparation for batting practice. I stepped onto the grass surrounding the dugout to get the feeling of how wet the grass was. I dug my cleats into the grass and began my usual routine of taking certain practice swings as I gazed upon the press box in the wake of the backstop. Preceding the burn in my forearms, caused from the practice swings, I marched behind the dugout to the rows of batting cages to wait my turn in line. Pacing back and forth I knew I had to keep my nervousness to a minimum. I popped in a wad of Big League Chew and continued to

The pitcher tries to put me out of his mind, but he can’t because I’m 60 feet away. He may have the mound to his advantage, but nothing will stop me from achieving this goal. I assess the field. There are runners on all the bases, the outfielders are playing back to prevent any extra base hits, and we’re down by 2 runs. I smooth out the dirt where my foot land, I make it smooth and the perfect landing spot for my foot, and step into the box. Everything must be perfect. I take a deep breath. I must stay calm. In...out. I sway my bat towards him and back into my pre-pitch position. My hands are relaxed but ready to unleash the violence of a baseball swing.

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,

Nothing beat the overwhelming emotion of stepping up on the pitcher’s mound and hearing the chant of my name, my heart clawing its way out of my chest. Before throwing the first warmup pitch, my mind raced through the entire season. How, as a team, we have made history winning all three major tournaments in the high school level. We had beaten many top competitors and lost plenty crushing defeats as well. My mind pondered, which situation will I be in today, glorious victory or destructive loss. This is the feeling I lived for during high school, it was my sole purpose. However, this was merely one minute of that fateful day in which I played prodigiously trying to win a baseball game.

​ Baseball to most it just a simple game that involves one just throwing a ball, another hitting it, and then another catching it, but it’s much more than that. The ability to hit a baseball three hundred plus feet, that’s coming at you at speeds greater than 85 mph, is hard to attain. Now imagine trying to catch a ball that’s coming at the same speeds, not so easy now right? Apart from the physical abilities needed to play, the mental part of the game is also important. The game of baseball is similar to life if you’re not prepared physically and mentally to go about your business you won’t succeed.

Only being the bat boy, Stanton had to bring his equipment to the ballpark everyday and go hit in the batting cages before the team showed up. Stanton thought to himself, “Why is coach asking me to swing in batting practice today? He has never done that once since I became the bat boy.” Stanton walked back onto the field and stepped into the batter’s box. Before Stanton even took a swing, he looked at the beautiful Marlins Park. Straight ahead was the bright, colorful outfield walls that were painted green. Stanton soaked in the atmosphere. While the batting practice pitcher went to throw the first pitch to Stanton, Johnny Field, the Marlins seventh round draft pick said, “Come on coach! You’re giving the bat boy a couple swings? Ha-ha that’s funny.” Just as Field finished his sentence, Scotty Stanton crushed the first pitch he saw into the left-center field gap, landing at an estimate four hundred feet. Coach Mattingly said, “Sit your ass down Field, we should have drafted this kid over you!” Stanton gave Mattingly a smile. Stanton continued to punish balls, smashing them all over Marlins Park. To others, it was just batting practice, but to Stanton, it meant more. It felt as if he had the game of baseball back in his life. When Stanton’s round was over, the Marlins players were impressed, besides the envious Johnny Field. One Marlins player even told Mattingly that this kid needs to be in the lineup. Mattingly

“Next up the right fielder Auuuuusstin Meeeehhhhrrrr” belows out of the speakers at full blast as I approach the plate. Feeling loose I ease into the batter's box sinking my cleats deep into the soft dirt where I can get a solid stance. Stretching my bat across the plate showing the pitcher how much reach I have tempting him to throw one in the zone. Weight is on my back leg as I slowly bounce the bat in my hands anticipating the first pitch. The pitcher begins his windup and I stop moving the bat and focus on the ball.

“Not everyone is going to see or accept you for who you are, and you have to accept that.” I was told this quote everyday by my mother. Today was no different, walking up to the raked field, quote on my mind , eyes on the fresh red clay, and the sound of my metal cleats against the concrete. I was ready for this day. After months of hard work from November to February , the tryouts for Central softball team were over. Over the span of four months, I pushed myself harder than I ever thought I could, but what I did never seemed to be enough for the team.

I was getting very nervous, because all three of us were hitless today. Okay, we need base runners, and we need them now. Don’t try to do too much, just get a hit. I thought. The first pitch was a fastball right down the middle of the plate, a perfect pitch to hit. My eyes got big, and my mind said swing, but before I could react, the ball was past me.

A batter walks up to the plate to hit for the first time this season. After a quick two strike called the count is against the hitter and in the favor of the pitcher. The pitcher is really aware of this 0-2 count and follows up with a fastball that is about chin high making the batter chase it and strike out. This is a great example of what youth baseball struggles with today in the sport. Technical offensive skills of baseball include, but are not limited to the strike zone and it has become the weakest part of today game. It’s very strange that the weakest aspect of the sport helps increase the defensive part because opposing pitcher rely on the over confident strike zone and accept the challenge making the hitter chase