Just for Teenagers

The Catch^R7

Ben Mueller

Thoughts of fear and failure were going through my mind as I stood in right field staring at the plate. I just stood there, hoping that the ball would not get hit anywhere near me. Winning the game wasn't even that important to me at the time—I just did not want to be the one to lose the championship for the team.

Unfortunately, the only goal I ever had playing baseball was not to make an idiot out of myself. After all, baseball was not really my sport, I never really liked it, and I just played it because I felt like I had to. My confidence was low. I was a physically underdeveloped fourteen-year-old playing baseball with kids a few years older than me. I was a timid kid who was often the victim of bullying by my peers and consequently I had very, very low self-esteem. My playing right field did not help my confidence. In little league it is a well-known fact that the weaker and less skilled players get put in right field, simply because the ball gets hit there the least.

My team was playing in the league championship game. We did not have a very successful regular season, but somehow we squeaked into the playoffs and started winning games. And at this moment, my team was one out away from being league champions. Even more surprising to me was that my coach still had me in the game at such a crucial moment instead of on the bench. The other team's big hitter was up and this batter had already crushed several big hits in this game. The count was one strike and two balls. To make the situation even more gut-wrenching, the bases were loaded, my team was up by only one run, and there were two outs.

The pitcher delivered the pitch and with a loud "crack" the ball began to sail towards me in a hard, line-drive fashion. The other team's fans began to cheer and scream loudly. I instantly began to backpedal faster than I ever thought possible, thinking that I was at least going to make it look like I tried. Then, as the ball sailed over my head, I leaped up as high as I could with my glove open, just hoping by some miracle that the ball would find its way in. A split second later, I heard this big sigh from the cheering fans and I thought that something had landed softly in my glove, but I was unsure if I was just imagining it. I stayed on my feet as I landed and just about cried when I looked into my glove. Sure enough there was a shiny white baseball in it and my team had won the championship. As I was jogging back to the dugout, I gave the umpire the ball back and he gave me this look of disbelief. Shortly after, our pitcher, who had oftentimes made fun of me, ran up to me with a look of relief, hugged me, and said, "Thanks for saving my butt."

To this day I will always believe that God sent an angel down to lift me up in the air to make that catch. I felt better than Aaron Rogers winning the Super Bowl, or Tiger Woods winning the U.S. Open, after making that catch. Even though I would go on to win more trophies in different activities, the trophy from that season means the most to me. It reminds of the day that a little underdeveloped fourteen-year-old boy was the hero of the season.

(631 words)