The Day I Quit Baseball
Even when something doesn’t work out and you quit and give up, there’s a whole world out there, waiting to be explored.
We were down about five runs in the bottom of the ninth inning. It looked like a lost game for my Little League team and one where we would be sent home packing in a dominating defeat. I didn’t think I would get another chance to bat. We had two outs and there were about seven batters in front of me.
But batter after batter, teammate after teammate started to hit singles and get walked. We even had a fielding error that kept the runs coming. It seemed like we could not be stopped. I don’t remember exactly how close we got, but we got pretty damn close — maybe only one or two runs.
When it was my turn to bat, the bases were loaded, and it was my turn to continue our hot streak and improbable comeback. This was my moment. It was my turn to be the hero and shine, or at least keep the momentum going.
On the first pitch, I swung. Instead of the bat connecting with the ball, my hand hit the baseball, and my finger hurt like crazy. I couldn’t bat like I usually could, and it was not good news — if I was the reason we didn’t come back, then all my teammates were going to hate me.
