Breaking Point

Part One: The Playoffs

Part One: The Playoffs

There are certain moments in your life that you will never forget, certain days that stay forever imprinted on your heart, whether you like it or not. This particular night was one of those times.

It's the bottom of the ninth, with two outs, a runner on third, and we are still down by one run. At this point, the entire team is off the bleachers, their hands clinging desperately to the fence that seperates them from the action on the ball field as if they are hanging on to life itself. The air is heavy with the mounting suspense, and the only sound that can be heard is the encouraging shouts of my teammates, along with the chirping of irritating crickets that refuse to shut up. I mean, honestly? How am I supposed to focus with a bunch of insects wandering around, reciting those monotonous tweets over and over? Ugh, I need to calm down! Resting one hand on my belly, I take in a huge swallow of air, shutting my eyes tight. Settle down, I kept reminding myself, the team is depending on you, and freaking out is not going to help you win the game.

It was the most important game we had ever played in, the last game of the playoffs. We, the Lakeview Leopards,were up against one of the toughest teams in the league, the Bursville Badgers, and there was no way I was going to blow it. Sucking in another deep breath, I block out everything around me, the noise, the fans, the tempting scents wafting over from the concession area, even my own girls, hooting like maniacs from the dugout; everything. This is my chance, I own it; it's all me. This is it. All those practices, all those laps, all that effort; it comes crashing down to this very moment. I can do it. I know I can. Finally, I open my eyes again, and my knees immediately turn to jello at the sight of all those people in the crowd, all those people, watching, expecting. Gulp.

No, I've got this, remember? All I have to do is bring that runner on third home, and we will stay in the game. With trembling hands, I slip my helmet on, my eyes hardening in determination. Chin held high, I stride toward the batter's box, giving Daisy, who just struck out, a weak smile, making her understand that there are no hard feelings. That was not really necessary, since there are never hard feelings on our team, but the "You can do this, Kat" she murmured in response gave my legs enough strength to carry me to the plate.

Wow; I can't recall a single time in which I was this anxious, in which my palms were so sticky I had to wipe them repeatedly on my shorts, in which my whole body shook so violently I had to dig my cleats into the dust to keep still, in which I could hear nothing except for the rapid beating of my heart, thrashing about viciously in my chest. Wiping my bangs, sticky with sweat, to the side, I position my trusty baseball bat at just the right angle, and lock my eyes on the ball. The pitcher is a rather beefy girl, with wide shoulders, hefty arms, and a smirk so threatening it sends a shiver down my spine.

"Strike One!" The umpire calls out. What the hell? Was I really so lost in worry that I had not even seen the first pitch coming?

Focus, Katrina, focus! I yell at myself under my breath. I was not ready for that first one, but the second one? Oh, the second one has my name on it; I'm certain.

"Strike Two!" The ump pronounces again. Holy shit! Was that white blur really a softball? Damn, this girl throws fast.

One more miss, and I'm out.Game over.The end. No, I can't let it turn out this way! My ferocity soon takes over everything else, and simultaneously my body ceases to shake,my hands decide to stop sweating profusely, and the only thing that exists is me, me and that god-forsaken softball. Glaring at the ball with all my might, I know I am ready this time.

Crack! The sound is so powerful and strong, it startles even me. With my hands vibrating from such a solid hit, I take off to first base. By the crowd's roaring cheers and the expression on my base coach's face, I assume the ball has really taken flight. One by one, I round all the bases, and as I'm in the homestretch I see my teammates dancing and hollering like banshees. An outfielder chucks the ball towards home, but it is too late. We are going to the championship! As soon as I slide in, my team tackles me with hugs, my eardrums breaking due totheir exuberant screams. I have really done it, and nothing can top the ultimate success I am feeling. In this moment, I realize how good it feels to win for once.