I got 99 problems but a pitch ain't one

I recently started pitching for Sage's baseball team and since then, I practiced non-stop to master the delivery of my pitches. As I stood on the mound, I felt nervous and hesitant about what results would come out after I threw the next pitch; this fear limited my throwing abilities and led me to throw everywhere except the strike zone. I practiced harder everyday to fix my shortcomings. It was grueling with the sun beating down on my neck. I could feel each sweat bead crawling down my skin as I delivered with all my might. I stared intently at the mitt I was supposed to throw into, thinking about how I should throw straight into the glove. However, my pitches never seemed to listen to me. As it dashed towards the mitt, missing the strike zone in the process, it felt as if the ball was a wild animal out of control; I was just providing each pitch with velocity, so it could travel its own pathway. I spent months trying to tame this wild beast, knowing that if I succeed, I could use it as a weapon to "strike" fear into the batter as they meekly swing and miss. However, the journey to assume authority over my pitches is a difficult task, especially when I lack experience playing baseball in general. However, I felt a strange sense of calmness while I practiced on the mound, which helped me focus on my weak points. I realized I was pulling the ball too hard with my fingers in a futile effort to add velocity into my pitches. As I practiced constantly releasing at the same point , my pitches have become significantly accurate. I can slightly adjust the pressure of my index and middle finger to change the location of where I want my pitches to travel. I also practiced following through after finishing my pitch, so that I can increase both consistency and the velocity of my pitches. I used to be hesitant and meek when I stood on the mound, but I learned that enjoying the intensity and the responsibility of being a pitcher stokes the passion that burns furiously in my heart.

In the Presence of the Father's Fury

The confidence from before

Disintegrated in an instant

In the presence of my father

The one who holds absolute dominance over me

The one who leads and supports the family

I try to speak but my words fail me

The constricted throat squeezes my explanations

I manage to mumble out incoherent sentences

Words returned in an angry tone

Demanding me to speak up

I feel tears about to come out

I put in more effort to raise my voice

He replies in a thunderous voice that pierces my ears

I look down in terror wondering

Why my quiet voice is referred to as a bad habit.

Why do I fear him?

Is it because he scolds me with words of severity?

But then I realized he was only trying to correct my wrongdoings

To make sure I don’t make the same mistakes twice

As the harsh words slaps my face multiple times

I can feel it

Behind every word is love

He is disciplining me out of love

But then I wonder

Would he discipline me the same way if he didn’t love me?

Last Resort Sport

It is pretty clear by now that baseball is the sport I am most passionate about. However, I started playing when I entered high school, so I don't have much experience compared to my teammates who played since they were 5. In fact, I was into many other sports before I started baseball. For example, I was a biathlete, a rugby player, a soccer player, and, to this day, a tennis player, a cross country runner and a boxer. I bounced around different sports before I willingly devoted most of my time to baseball. I will admit, I really had fun while I spent my time on the rugby and soccer field, the tennis court, the cross-country terrain, next to the punching bag, and even in the swimming pool. I learned a myriad of strategic movements, so I can perform efficiently in each sport. In rugby, for example, I learned that I did not necessarily have to be able to tackle and push the opponents back every time, which I was incapable of doing due to my miniscule body size as a 12 year old. I learned to go with their momentum by letting them run past me and grabbing onto their hips when they were besides me. This caused the runners to trip and fall in the same manner a traditional tackle would without causing too many injuries to myself. However, was I really passionate for other sports like I am for baseball? Or did I waste my time and money practicing for a sport that I will eventually quit later on? Honestly, it is not about whether I can succeed in life through this sport, it is about the unforgettable experiences I have gained as I participated in each sport. I do not regret ever trying to participate in various sports because it means I can experience each and every one without the dedication and effort required to becoming a professional. Even after my experiences with quitting different sports, I can confidently say that the only time the baseball will ever leave the diamond, is when I hit a home run with it.

Dear Future Offsprings

Hi (son's name).
How is it going back home? I hope everything is going well with you and your mother. I'm sorry I haven't been coming home lately because of my job, but I assure you, I will come home soon. You are now 15 years old, so take good care of your mother. I am so thrilled that you finally decided to join your school's baseball team. I also started playing around your age and I am so happy you can finally participate in the one sport I am truly passionate about. I only ask that you give it your best and have fun. I struggled when I was young because I was a lot skinnier than you. However, I am certain you have the advantage now, so never give up. I love you and I hope to see you soon.
Love,
Your father