MORTIFIED ON THE MOUND

Part 1: Pitching

Part 2: Humiliation

Part 1

 I don’t understand exactly why I keep pitching. Honestly, I feel like I’m terrible at it, lessons cost a ton, and I just really don’t have the time to practice. 

 I feel that if I give it up, I don’t fucking know like I feel as if I’d be letting everyone down since I’ve been doing it basically my whole entire life. 

Part 2

 Today was an interesting day at 6th period softball. Today the pitchers and the catchers had to go out in the outfield and show the coaches what we’ve got. So the five pitchers (including myself) and 3 catchers trudged out to warm-up. Considering there were only 3 catchers available (2 out of the 3 didn’t really want to catch in the first place) there would be one set of just one pitcher to one catcher and 2 sets of 2 pitchers to one catcher. Of course, as the freshman, I had to be in the second set. And of course the girl who was sharing the catcher with me was a very ambitious varsity player. 

 So of course being me, I panicked when the coaches walked over to examine my skills. Let’s just say that I could have done better. A LOT BETTER. And of  course the other varsity player did very well. And she knew the coaches saw that too (if you know what I mean)

*sigh*

MEANWHILE:

 The baseball team (I have to add that it contains a copious amount of good-looking boys)'s out field starts right when ours ends. So supposedly, they were doing terrible so they had to run from the foul pole on the third base side of the field to the foul pole on the first base side of the field. The path that they were running on passed right next to our group of pitchers (I was the closest to the hotties. Probably like 10 feet away from the path they were running to and fro on). And they weren’t running just one lap. They were running for a whooping 20 minutes and they were STILL running after THE THING and even after practice ended.

 Anyway, the last pitch we had to throw ending the session was a change-up. By that time, I was already discouraged enough and I don’t think I could have been redder than I was then. The most frustrating part was when I was throwing that pitch earlier, it didn't work at all. So the whole situation generally was pretty ironic, if you ask me. 

  Of COURSE I ended up being the last person to go (since we were assessed individually. All of the other pitchers were pretty bored watching the nerve-racking moments, so they all jogged back to the dug out where the rest of the team was packing up. It was just me, the pitcher; the two head coaches; and Grace, the catcher. Oh, and of course the whole entire baseball team just a mere ten feet away.

 I was shaking as I wiped my sweaty hand across my pants (which really didn’t do much) and gripped the ball tightly. I went through the motion and gasped when my hip flinched closed too soon and my throwing hand containing the ball hit the back of my leg. I watched as the ball dropped 4 feet in front of Grace. Then I heard the Head Varsity coach grunt behind me. I felt the color rush straight to my cheeks and I slowly spun around to face my fate, which felt like it would be a lot like death honestly. That’s when THE THING happened.

head varsity coach: how do you throw that pitch?

me: *gulps* uh back-hand *makes motion with wrist*

hvc: oh, i see... *moves to the spot where i’ve been pitching*

        come right in front of me

me: um-

hvc: come on.

me: *apprehensively trudges in front of him*

hvc: face the catcher

me: *turns slowly towards Grace who’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates*

hvc: *takes my throwing arm* ok so you’re going to hold the ball in this hand and and you’re going to go through the motion like this... *takes my arm and leads me through the motion* and you want to make youre only throwing the ball in this space *takes my shoulders from behind* this is your space. you cant throw anywhere but your space, got it?

grace: *stares*

head junior varsity coach: *stares*

baseball players: *stares*

entire world: *stares*

me:

        what the fuck just happened.

  So that’s when I think my pitching career had officially ended. Well, I should say MIGHT end, because you never know.

 I’m debating to chop off and bleach my hair, get a tattoo, and go by Lupe. Seriously I don’t exactly know how I’m going to be able to show my face tomorrow.

 What has my life come to?