Senior year. Almost eighteen. Tension simmering like a storm that hasn’t broken yet. I stand under the stadium lights, rolling in all the weight of the bat between my palms like it might answer something I can’t name for one. The field stretches out in front of me, with perfect lines, clean dirt, bases bright against the darkening grass. Everything exactly where it should be. Predictable. Measurable, And safe. I exhale slowly and adjust my batting gloves. Leather creaks. And familiarity… “Daniels, you’re up next!” Coach calls. I lift the bat to my shoulder without looking back. “Got it.” My voice is steady. You know of course it always is. That’s my thing. Control. Discipline. No wasted motion, no wasted thought. On the field, everything makes sense. You react, you adjust, you execute. Simple. Off the field… I push that thought away.I step into the on-deck circle, eyes locking onto the pitcher automatically. Release point. Speed. Spin. My brain breaks it all down without effort, like
Last Updated : 2026-05-01 Read more