Taking A Stand: Athletic prowess is all about confidence
Being a super athlete nowadays, it’s hard for me to recall how bad I stunk as a kid when it came to sports of all types.
Back in junior league baseball, I was the kid everyone hated to see come up to bat. I can remember hearing the sighs of my teammates when my name was announced on deck, since it was all but assured I was going to strike out, unless I got lucky and was hit by a pitch.
I don’t know if it was my lack of coordination, my fear of the ball or lack of focus, or some combination of all three, which made me such a failure in baseball. I simply had no game, even in the field, where I was usually hidden in right field. You could rest assured, if some lefty did pull the ball to right, I’d be in the place where the ball wasn’t, except for that one time where the ball bounced off my head right to the centerfielder. I found myself gripped with fear when the ball came my way. Well, it probably wasn’t fear so much as a premonition that I was going to mess the play up, which I always did.
However, that all changed on one faithful night during senior league play after years of failure on the diamond. As I recall it, there were two down and two on in the bottom of the final inning. By the way, this was like the last regular season game and I was on a winless team. It was our last chance at validation and here comes a kid, me, who literally, did not have a hit all season. Talk about a batting slump, I counted myself lucky if I actually foul tipped a ball. The only time I found myself on base all season was when the pitcher was inept enough to walk me.
So there comes the announcement of my name. I recall looking back to the dugout to see my coach’s head drop, knowing Sherrill was going to strike out looking again. And, sure enough, the first two pitches fly right by me, my bat on my shoulder. This was like a script out of a movie. Somewhere behind me (I’m a left handed batter and we had the first base dugout) I could hear one of the dugout coaches begin to get the players ready to go out and shake hands with the winners.
I remember eyeing the pitcher and thinking I’m going to swing, no matter what he throws. He could have thrown a pitch 10 feet high and I would have gone after it. But, instead, as luck would have it, he offered a juicy fast ball, probably thinking he’d in the game with a strike out.
As the ball left his hand I remember seeing the ball clearer than I’d ever seen it before. It was like a basketball. (Just kidding). Actually, I closed my eyes tight and just swung.
And then, there was this sound, a sound I hadn’t heard before. A sound of metal and a feel on my bat as if it had hit something. I quickly opened my eyes to make sure I hadn’t accidentally bopped the catcher in the head.
What greeted me was stunned expressions as I saw the ball already flying past the infielders. The guys on base were so stunned they hadn’t even started running. I could hear my coach yell “run, Duane, run” awaking me from my stunned state.
Well, long story short, the ball didn’t stop rolling until it hit the outfield fence, we won the game 7-6 and it was our only win of the season. It was literally a walk-off hit.
After that day, I went on to play softball for several years, leading the league there in batting for two consecutive years. I also became better at other sports in which I also stunk, all coming after that one faithful night on the senior league field.
What was it? Well, it wasn’t coordination or athletic ability. All it came down to was confidence. It proved to me that the most important part of an athlete is what’s between the ears.
(Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)