I tapped home plate with my bat, then cranked it around a couple times. I drew the bat back slowly and gazed at the pitcher, waiting for my pitch.

There were all sorts of emotions running through my chest: excitement, determination and fear. As I stood there in the box, I couldnt forget the year before when I was knocked in the noggin by a pitch, so as the pitcher wound up, I was prepared to hit the dirt.

The first pitch was a foot outside. Ball one. So far, so good. I stepped out of the box and took a quick peek at the pitcher. He was only 10 years old -my age- but standing on that mound with the ball in his hands, he looked like Shaq, ten-feet tall and dangerous as a dragon.

The second pitch comes in high. It was moving like a bumblebee and seemed to be the size of a BB. I swung hard and my bat cut through the air, about eight inches below the ball. One ball, one strike. I felt the sweat start to well up under my arms. My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with a pair of old sweat socks and my chest was getting tighter. I gripped the bat and tapped my cleats, trying to look cool. The pitcher wound up and threw. The ball seemed to move so fast I never even saw it.  One ball, two strikes. I knew what was coming next. I sighed and put the bat on my shoulder. I wasn't surprised to hear the ball smack into the catcher's mitt and the dreaded words, "Strike three. Batters out."

The umpire might have well said, "Batters never going to get a hit, ever."

                                       ***** 

It was my second year in Little League and I still hadn't gotten a hit. Last year, I had hit a couple foul balls and grounded out a few times, but that was it. The rest of my at-bats were just one embarrassment after another.

"Striking out makes me sad," I told my mom after the game. "It happens to me all of the time."

"Do you want to quit?" she asked.

I have to admit, it sounded good for a second. But something in me said I should keep going.  "No," I said. "I think this is the year, Mom."

                                       ***** 

In the next game, against the Tigers, I came to bat in the third inning. The pitcher in this game looked even bigger than the last guy. The sleeves of his jersey covered a pair of arms that looked like they should be on Arnold Schwarzeneger. His face showed an evil grin. I imagine he knew what an easy out I was. The first pitch whizzed past me like a bullet for a called strike. I was feeling that same old fear, but there was something else running through my mind this time. I couldn't understand it, but I felt like there was something important about to happen. The pitcher spit in the grass beside the mound and stared in at the catcher. He reared back and fired. I swung, but missed. Strike two. For a moment, I wondered if history was going to repeat itself yet again, but suddenly, I felt a sense of calm come over me. "This time is different, Kevin," I thought to myself. I stared hard at the pitcher and tried to intimidate him. He just smiled a little at me and started his motion. The pitch was sweet. The ball looked as big as a watermelon and it seemed to just hang in the air like a piñata. I swung hard and connected. It sounded like a rifle shot. The ball skidded between first and second, a line drive base hit.

"Run, Kevin, run!" my coach screamed. I dropped my bat and took off towards first. I stepped on the base, then stopped with both feet on the bag. "Yes!" I said.

On the next pitch, the ball got away from the catcher and I took second. There was another passed ball and I went to third. I was concentrating hard now. The pitcher threw another one in the dirt. The catcher couldn't handle it and I ran for home. The catcher came up with ball and threw it to the pitcher covering home, but I knew it was too late. I slid feet first and looked at the umpire.

"Safe!" he yelled.

I jumped up and did a little victory dance. My coach put out his hand. "Congratulations man," he said. "Way to stick with it."

"It felt great," I said and sat down on the bench to watch the rest of the inning.

                                       *****