My Very Second Blog

Hello again all, thanks for being here. As many of you that follow me know, I play baseball at Peru State College. This is my second season here at Peru, and I have nothing but great memories playing ball here. I would like to tell you a story that makes me look like a true badass, and I can do that because this is my blog.

It was April fools day, almost a year ago to the day that I write this, and we were playing one of our biggest rival teams in Mid America-Nazarene. It was a cold and gloomy day, and we had our hands full with their ace pitcher on the mound. I was not feeling one hundred percent, as I dealt with cold like symptoms as well as a strong headache. But there I was, catching and batting seventh in the opening game of a double-header, so I scarfed down a few Ibuprofens and hit the field. The game started out rough for us, as we surrendered five runs in the top of the first, but then we got our chance in the bottom half. The man who dragged me out to play ball out here was the same man that stepped to plate to begin our half of the first, and he promptly crushed the first pitch he saw into the gap to get us going with a leadoff double. He ended up coming around to score our first run, and after a few walks to load the bases with two outs, I step to the dish. But before I tell you what happens, I need to tell you all why this memory means so much to me.

It was the October of the previous semester,  I was at Taco Bell with my best bud, Kadyn (the man who hit the leadoff double in the game I am currently telling you about). I got a FaceTime call from my mom, who was bed side my grandpa, who had broken his hip and was in critical condition. My mom was there along with all 6 of her siblings, because they all wanted to be by his side. I spoke to my mom for a minute, and then she held the phone in front of my grandfather, who could not hold it for himself, could barely open his eyes, and could hardly speak. But he spoke to me all he could, and I will never forget the last thing he said to me before he needed to rest. "Hit a homerun, Chet-a-roo." I laughed and said, "just one? I'll do my best!" This was the last time I spoke to my grandpa, he passed the next day.

Think you know what happens next? I'm going to walk you through it anyways, it's more fun for me that way. So there I was, stepping up to the plate (with zero homeruns in my college career to this point) as the tying run, but that was the last thing I was thinking about. I was able to get ahead in the count, after laying off some not-so-close fastballs, and some pretty nasty sliders down out of the zone, although he did not have great command, I could see why the pitcher has the reputation he has, the stuff was electric. Three balls, one strike to count. Before I stepped in the box, I told myself to be patient, take a strike if I need to, he was wild, maybe he'd walk me and we'd inch closer and closer, keeping the line moving. I was happily ready to draw a walk and cut the decificit to three. But the moment he went into his delivery, in my mind I said "[forget] it." Nobody wants to walk in a run with two outs. He was going to come right after me with heat and he did. I swung, I connected, the right fielder went back, and I was just hoping it would get over his head. The right fielder ran back to the fence, and watched it sail over his head. Home run. Grand slam. Game tied. The team erupted, as we were able to erase a five-run deficit in only the first inning. I sat down to put my gear on to get ready for the next inning and I just paused for a moment, looked up towards the sky and with a few tears in my eyes said, "thank you gramps, that was for you."

Baseball is funny that way. Sometimes the days you feel you cannot play because of illness, soreness, personal issues, whatever it may be, but sometimes those are the days you have your best games. When you know you are not one hundred percent out there, but you've got to find away to fight through it and compete anyways. This was one of those days for me, as I finished with two hits off the opposing pitcher in three tries. And would you believe the one time I was retired by him, I hit a deep fly ball that would have been my second homerun of the day, and would have broken a tie ball game, but the right fielder reached over the fence and robbed me of another one. Hey, that's baseball. I'm not that tight.