My Weakness

Whatever the reason, I couldn't get my mind off of that pitch. I could hit a fastball, curveball, even knuckleball (although I had never faced a Tim Wakefield caliber one), but I could not handle the crazy change up. There was something deceptive about that pitch, a thinly disguised fastball. However, I just couldn't handle it. I guess it was one of those things that no matter how many hours I spent in the batting cage or how many hitting camps I went to with how many retired professionals I just could never figure out.

I think something had to do with tension. When I stepped up to the plate, I was grabbed by a desire to swing. Something in my arm muscles or perhaps everything in my body wanted me to jump on every pitch. I guess when you are jumping on every pitch, it makes sense that a change up would be your downfall. I would step up to plate telling myself to be patient and to sit back on the inevitable pitch that I knew had to be coming. But the result was always the same, it had always been and always would be my downfall, but I tried to hide it as best I could and go on bashing fastballs.
Photo by parent5446 on Flickr