Josh took a deep breath, let it out, and crouched into his batter's stance. He tried not to think about what the coach had said. He knew they needed another run to tie it up. Knew there were already two outs. He tuned out the chants of the other team. "Batter can't hit. Batter can't hit." He didn't take that personally. It was just a part of the game. He had done it himself.

But in the back of his mind, there was just that tiny thought, "What if I miss again?

He let the first pitch go by. He noted how it seemed to float towards him, arcing up to eye level, then dropping down a bit as it crossed the plate. He heard a solid 'thwack' as it was caught.

"Strike one" the umpire said. The groans from the crowd did not even register in his ears. He was totally focused on the pitcher.

He patently waited as his opponent went through his routine, the swinging arms, the look over his shoulder (even though there was no one on first base. The pitcher had see that on tv, probably), and then the step forward as his arm scythed down and the ball was launched.

Surprised, Josh noted that the ball slid over his bat as his arms followed through on the swing and his body twisted with the effort. "Strike two." The umpire said. This time there was silence from the crowd as they collectively decided that he was going to strike out again and that the game was over.

The problem, Josh decided, was that the pitcher was not consistent like the machine they used for batting practice. The ball was not always where he thought it should be. Now his situation started to sink in. In the first two pitches, he had two strikes. He was not going to have a chance to analyze the pitch and adjust his swing. He was going to strike out. Again. His shoulders slumped.

Then, from the restless silence of the crowd, a piece of advice. A command, really. "Stop thinking!"

It was his Dad. It so surprised Josh that he stepped back, out of the batter's box, and looked around. His father was standing at the end of one of the bleachers, by the fence. He should have been at work. "Stop thinking", his father said again. "Just feel it," and he swung an imaginary bat in an exaggerated motion.

Josh was stunned. His father was not a sports guy. He was a copywriter. He never talked baseball, or any sport for that matter. When Josh came to him with a problem his first approach was always, "let's take a step back and think about it." Then a warm feeling flooded through him. His Dad had left work to come and watch him play. He saw his Dad was watching him closely so he nodded to him. He got a nod in return. Josh stepped back to the plate and settled into his crouch.

The pitcher wound up, the ball floated towards him. It was all a part of a pattern. It was just natural that his swinging bat was going to send that ball flying in the opposite direction. Josh felt a stinging in his hands at the same time he heard the 'crack'. Stunned, he realized he had hit the ball. The crowd started yelling. He remembered to run.

I would love to report here that Josh hit a homerun, that he hit it into the weeds at the edge of the ball field. But it was really only his first hit, ever, in an organized game. Josh ran as hard as he could to first base. The ball looped over the shortstop's head and dropped to the ground in a hard roll. The shortstop and the second baseman got tangled up trying to chase it. Josh had already passed first base and was on his way to second. The crowd was chanting "run... run."

His teammate from third crossed home plate, tying the game. The pitcher, seeing that second base was not covered, started running towards it. Josh ran.

The shortstop scooped up the ball and started to run to second. Realizing the pitcher was closer, he flipped the ball underhand to him.

The ball floated past Josh's head as he crossed second and started to third.

"Run... run"

The pitcher caught the ball but was out of position to tag Josh and felt that he couldn't catch him so he tossed it to the third baseman.

Josh ran.

The third baseman was a younger boy. He took his eyes off the ball to see where Josh was. Too late he looked back as the ball passed him on his right.

"Run... run." Josh ran.

The catcher was big. He was an older boy and stood right in front of homebase, daring Josh to try to get past him. But he had to step out to his left to catch the ball from third. In a desperate effort, Josh dove for the plate. He felt a thump on his back even as his hand slid across the rubber. His breath ragged from the effort, blood pounding in his ears, he never heard the umpire's verdict. He didn't need to. His Dad was hugging him and his teammates were pounding him on his back. That was all he needed.