FAILURE

 

I’d prefer to start an inning clean, but every one can wish for the weather and pound sand with the results.

My first call is not my dream scenario, but I’ll take what I can get. Two singles against the starter in the sixth inning means 1st and 3rd with one out.

I was already up to start the frame, so it’s not surprising when B-pip points at me after putting the phone down.

We’re up 4-2, but that’s meaningless to me. I want to go into the dugout for the first time stranding those guys out there. Anything else is a failure.

When I get out of this jam (positive mindset), I won’t consider it a success. I expect to get out of this, but honestly, how fast do you shake off success? Do you remember your success or your failures?

I remember throwing a 3-hit shutout in the high school state playoffs; but that’s only because my mom saved the box score, got it laminated and posted it on the fridge.

In conversation, people have asked me about outings they witnessed, reciting back stats I have no memory of; and some of them are pretty impressive. I hope they’re remembering the right pitcher.

But I can tell you intimate details about the 450-foot shot I gave up in the 7th inning of a AA game in June to Keith Moreland that lost us the lead.

I didn’t give up the lead today, but it was still a failure.

The first batter was a heavy-pull left hander named Stubman. I was hoping to get him to roll two. I backed him up with a inside fastball and wanted to follow with a slider outside.

2 asked for the slider inside. I hate shaking off the catcher, especially this early in the season. Sets a bad precedent.

So I nod, glance at third as I straightened up and peaked over my shoulder to see just how far the runner at first was off the base. If he’s stealing, my double play chances become slim and none unless it’s a line drive.

But I’m thinking too much. Setting my breath, I go into my motion and throw a slider. It breaks too soon, meaning it’s gonna get too much of the plate.

Luckily, it dips low and Stubman golf-swings a fly ball to center. As I run to back up home plate, I know it’s deep enough to score the run.

I watch as everything happens as it should. It is an out, but a run has scored. I won’t get charged for the run, but it goes against my inherited runner column and now I owe the starter a gift to make up for my failure.

I don’t even care that the next batter looks bad on strike three. I walk off the field to cheers, but I don’t deserve it.