I’m struggling to stay calm on third base. I feel a warm bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. After being last up at bat and battling with foul balls, I am a little wary. I can feel the sweat passing my eyebrows now; just barely coming around my eyelids. Our pitcher, Jennifer, has pitched two strikes and one ball. The entire inner field is cheering her on to strike the opposing player out, but to me, it’s oblivious. I watch her movement and as soon as she releases the ball from her hip, I put my glove in the dirt and get ready incase the batter hits the ball right to me, but usually the way Jennifer pitches, no one even gets a hit.
“Heyyyy Batter, Batter, Batttttteeeeerrrrr,” the in field chants. In a weird way, I sort of feel bad for the poor girl. We are REALLY loud chatterers, so when it comes to going up against us while batting, you have to keep focus or else you’ll swing early or too late.
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