Essay On Baseball Failure

Baseball tryouts Three weeks ago I woke up from my deep sleep knowing what today was. I could feel the anxiety rushing through my mind but I was also confident that I would do good and be able to impress my coach. Today was baseball tryouts, I put so much time and effort fielding ground balls hitting off the tee to be ready for today.

As soon as I made my very first varsity baseball appearance, I knew that I had to be the very best I could be or there was never going to be a chance of ever putting on that white and maroon crisp cleaned dri-fit Russel number 18 jersey. My heart was beating beyond faster than it should be at my first at bat because I had always heard “Just wait you haven't seen nothing yet, wait till you face them varsity pitchers.” Players older than me had constantly been saying that throughout my freshman season and it kept repeating over and over in my head like a broken record. Although I had studied the pitcher and had seen with my very own eyes, he wasn’t as good as everyone talked him up to be. I was still overawed and very nervous about messing up.

Several years ago, I was talking to my late grandpa who had gone to see Hall of Famer, Ken Griffey Jr. give a speech to some young children. After his speech, a dad stood up and asked “Mr. Griffey, you and I have something in common. I have been playing baseball all my life just like you. We are about the same age and we even come from the same hometown. The only difference between us is that you are a celebrated All- Star ballplayer, and I-- despite decades of hard work-- have never been able to play past college ball. This breaks my heart. I have dedicated my whole life to baseball, but to no avail. My spirit has been completely diminished by all the rejection and disappointment. I was wondering if you have any advice for me, but please do not just dismiss my question and tell me to persevere. I have heard that too many times and

Have you ever seen how a pitcher winds up? Do you want to be the star of your team? Has the wind up ever confused you? Well if you have here is how to do it. If you dont have these thing and have n

On the way to the dugout, the batter is thinking about how they struck out and how much they wish they got a hit. Eventually, they realize they have to get over it and cheer on their teammates. In addition to that, they have to prepare themselves to go back out to the field, show no emotion, and fix their mistake by trying their hardest no matter what position they are. “You must actively, consciously choose to focus on what you can change, and accept what you can’t change.” (Phil, 2014)

“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.

Yogi Berra believed that, “Baseball is 90 percent mental and the other half is physical.” From my tenure as a college softball pitcher at Point Park University, I learned how imperative being mentally sound is to the game of softball. The legal field is a very demanding field. I know my experiences gained on the diamond will allow me to flourish in a field dependent upon mental toughness.

Yet, even after my second failure, I still looked for opportunities. I was invited to play for RBI AAU (American Amature Union) - an all wooden bat league. I worked, I listened, and I persevered. By the end of my first season, my coach said, “You were a scared kid that couldn’t hit anything, and now you’re one of my best hitters.” From the time that I joined RBI I have improved as a player and as a person by creating and embracing a confidence I did not have before.

In the game of baseball more than any other sport, you really have to focus and think about what you’re doing on every single play. Of course there are parts of the game that become somewhat natural, but baseball is a game of fundamentals. You have to always be on top of your game and one step ahead of the curve, no pun intended. Every play contains different situations, which call for you to do an assortment of different things. You have to be thinking of what it is you’re going to do if the ball is hit to you, and what you do if hit to any of the other eight of your teammates on the field. Have you ever felt on top of your game, but for some odd reason you just couldn’t focus and preform at the best ability that you know you’re capable of? That’s what happens many times in baseball. You really have to focus and know what you’re doing wrong, and what adjustments to make to fix it. More than all other sports one little odd or unusual thing you start doing or change in your mechanics has a huge effect on the amount of production and performance out on that diamond. While hitting, throwing, or catching the ball, the simple extra movement or step you’re taking can cause a hundredth of a second difference in your throw, swing, or pitch, but this game is a game of seconds and that slight movement is the difference between a homerun or a ground ball, an amazing play in the field and an error, a strikeout or a ball

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 start of the spring meant baseball season was right around the corner, and our team was hungrier than ever. Our team had high expectations for ourselves, coaches, and even parents. Every day the warm sun beaten down from our shaded faces to the hard dirt, this marked the perfect time to take sharply hit ground balls and pop flies in between the sacred bright white chalk lines. We took drills on the perfect cut green grass surrounded by the four bases shaped into the perfect diamond, evenly separated ninety feet apart. My team always moved with abrupt hustle feeding for every rep possible, while each metal spike from our cleats gripped tightly into the earth.

The first pitch came in. ¨Ball outside,’’ the umpire said as I stepped out of the box to take a breather. The second pitch came in as a Strike as I tried to get a hack at it but it broke across the plate. I stepped out of the box to regain my composure. Bases loaded 1 out. The third pitch came in and was a fastball that was traveling across the plate at 72 miles per hour, but I got my bat on it at the right time and the ball was in the outfield in a matter of seconds. The ball rolled passed the outfielder as I ran the bases as fast as I could. The outfielder struggled to get the ball in and threw to the cutoff man. By the time he got it in I was already at third for a straight up triple to score three runs to tie it up . “ Timeout,” I called as I took off my helmet and got ready to pitch.Jose took my place to pinch run for me as I needed to start warming up to pitch.

The fear of trying to hit a baseball is real. Standing approximately 65 feet away from someone who is throwing a small ball, that feels like a rock, 95 miles per hour is scary. Not only is this ball coming in very fast, but this ball can kill

I watch a baseball smack right off my bat and look at it fly threw the air like an exotic toucan. I can see the fans in the stand go silent and just watch the ball soar.

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.