Swinging for the fences

It was the bottom of the 9^th. The Cougars were down 4-3 against their cross-town little-league rivals, the Bulldogs. With a man on 2^nd and 3^rd and with two outs, Coach G looked at David and said, “You’re up, son.” David was a quiet kid. He loved baseball but wasn’t very athletic. He was shorter than the rest of the kids, weaker, and not to mention had horrible hand-eye coordination. “Me?! No way Coach. I haven’t gotten a hit all season.” Unmoved, Coach G responded “I know…but I want you to go out there and swing for the fences.”  Reluctantly, David stood up, grabbed his bat and his batting helmet (which was way too big for his little 9 year old head), and slowly walked to the plate. All-the-while, he was dragging the end of his bat on the ground in silent protest. Because of his hitting struggles, David had become quite a crowd favorite. Parents and fans cheered when they saw him step to the plate.

With his heart feeling like it might beat right out of his chest, David did what he saw the professionals do. He took a few practice swings and pretended like he was chewing something. He tried to spit but all that came out was a puff of mist. The catcher chuckled. David looked at his team’s dugout and saw Coach G mouth the words, “Swing for the fences”. David stepped to the plate and got ready for the first pitch. The windup…the pitch…David froze. “STRIIIIIIKE ONE”, the empire exclaimed. From the dugout, Coach G yelled, “David! What are you doing? Swing the bat!” David confidently nodded in his direction as if to signal that all was fine. The second pitch came. Paralyzed with fear, David closed his eyes and didn’t move a muscle. “STRIIIIIKE TWO”, the empire yelled. David looked back at his dugout, this time with tears welling up in his eyes. It was happening again. He wished he could be anywhere except for where he was at that very moment. His house, the dugout, school, anywhere but at the plate. “David! You’ve got to swing the bat!”, his coach yelled. 

At this point, both the crowd and the entire Cougar dugout joined Coach G’s exhortation. “Swing the bat, David! Swing the bat!” David’s little 9 year old heart beat faster than it ever had before. He was determined to swing this time. The third pitch came…it looked perfect. David cocked back. When he heard the gasps of the crowd he was immediately overwhelmed with the fear of swinging and missing. He checked his swing at the last possible moment. The ball arrived in the Catcher’s mit. David closed his eyes to keep the tears from running down his face. “BALL!”, the umpire shouted. The opposing team couldn’t believe it! “That pitch was right over the plate!”, the Bulldog’s Coach yelled. The ref was unmoved. This only prolonged what David thought was inevitable. The next pitch came. David closed his eyes and again froze with fear... “BALL TWO!”, the umpire shouted.

Instantly, an ingenious plan sprouted in David’s little brain. There was a way for him to get on base without having to swing. All he had to do was hope that the pitcher would throw two more balls. He wouldn’t even have to risk embarrassment! If the pitcher threw two more balls, he’d get on base and if the pitcher threw a strike, David could act like the umpire made a bad call! With a newfound hope, David looked at his Coach and gave him another confident nod. The windup…the pitch….”BALL THREE!”, the ump shouted. “Perfect”, David thought. All was going according to plan. That is, until Coach G called a timeout. David ran to the dugout. He pulled his ginormous helmet up so he could see his Coach. “What’s up?” Coach G was visibly upset. “David, I know what you’re trying to do. Son, I picked you for a reason. I want you to go out there and swing for the fences! No more games.” 

Despairingly, David walked back to the plate. This time the pressure felt unbearable. Would he listen to Coach and swing? Or would he play it safe and hope to get walked? The windup…the pitch…David decided to trust his Coach and try to make him proud. He tightened every muscle in his little 73 pound body. He cocked back, closed his eyes, and swung with all his might! The crowd gasped as they saw an object fly out from home plate. It went over the pitcher’s head, over the shortstops head and landed violently in left field and continued to roll for 10 to 15 feet! The entire ballpark was silent. In fact, they were amazed. David opened his eyes just in time to see it stop rolling. He couldn’t believe what he had just done! The object that had flown through the air, which was now lying in left field was...

…his bat.

“STRIIIIIKE THREE! YOU’RE OUT!” Instantly, the tears barreled down David’s face. Dejected, embarrassed, ashamed, and remorseful, he  pulled his oversized helmet over his face and walked back to his team’s dugout. 

After the game had ended and many kids had gone home, Coach G sat next to his discouraged player on the bench. David was still wearing his oversized helmet (trying to hide his face from the shame). This embarrassment quickly turned into anger. “I told you I couldn’t do it! I should’ve hoped for a walk! You told me to swing the bat and I never should’ve listened! See what happens when I swing? I don’t just strikeout, I make a complete fool of myself! I haven’t gotten a hit all year! I hate baseball and I’m never playing this game again.” Coach G took a long pause. David hoped he would say something. Anything. Yell, cuss, apologize…something. Finally, his Coach’s words cut through the silence, “David, I knew you would strike out…but I put you in the game anyway.” David was livid! “Why would you do that? I’m so embarrassed! I can never show my face in this ballpark again! You’ve ruined me!” Coach G responded firmly, “I didn’t ruin you, David…I saved you.” 

Puzzled, David looked his Coach square in the eyes. “Saved me…from what?” With a very serious look, his coach replied, “You were about to go through life and never swing the bat.” David sat amazed at the accuracy of his coach’s assessment. He continued, “You were about to let past failures paralyze you. And David, I never asked you to get a hit. I asked you to swing for the fences…and you most certainly did!” Realizing that It might be a little too soon for jokes, Coach G continued, “David, sometimes in life we have to swing the bat and realize that we might strikeout. We can’t just hope for the easy way out.” David knew he was right but remained quiet. “Son, the only way to hit a home run is by swinging for the fences. I wanted you to learn that. And I wanted you to learn that even when you strikeout, I’ll still be your coach and most importantly, you’ll still be my son.” David reluctantly smiled. “Thanks Dad.” Coach G put his arm around his son and said, “Anytime. Now go grab your bat. Playoffs start next week.”