Facing a Giant It was the defining moment of my otherwise unremarkable time on our school's softball team. My performance on the team had been modest at best, and we were playing the most important game of the season. A victory here would ensure a trip to the state's championship game (something our team had never done); a loss meant our season was unceremoniously finished.
I glanced over at the towering behemoth with super-human strength on the pitcher's mound and approached home plate with the confidence of a cedar log before a wood chipper. Her pitching was stellar; she had struck out our first three batters immediately, and it had stunned our team. Astonished, we renewed our focus on the game with a laser-like concentration that was unprecedented. Still, I was the David to her Goliath.
The first two pitches torpedoed by me like bullets.
"STEE-RIKE!" the umpire bellowed.
The following three pitches were hurled at me with the intention of luring me into swinging at a bad pitch. In mere seconds, it was a full count, and everything rested upon the next pitch – and whether or not I swung my bat.
I stepped back and breathed deeply, temporarily paralyzed with anxiety. Maybe David had felt this way when he faced Goliath, I thought. I glanced at the renowned pitcher and tried not to think about the fact that she was an all-star pitcher; that she had pitched so well that other teams had not scored a single run against her; that she had led her team to two state championships.
I stepped back up to home plate and saw her nod her head as though she'd already struck me out. Keeping my eye on the ball, I raised my bat, my heart pounding in my ears. Then the ball was racing toward me, and before I could even think, I swung with a supernatural strength.
CRACK! Stunning the pitcher (and myself), I hit the ball directly toward the pitcher who leaped at the ball in a feeble attempt to catch it. Fortunately for me, all she succeeded in doing was knocking it to the ground where it rolled around her feet while I sprinted for first base as if my life depended upon it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the pitcher pick up the softball and hurl it to first base. It was going to be close, so I put on a burst of speed and felt my foot hit the base just as the first baseman caught the ball. Did I make it? Was I out? I looked at the umpire.
"SAFE!" she yelled.
The relief that washed over me was a cool breeze on a hot summer day. We had the lead.
It was a pivotal moment for our team. Inspired by the turn of events, we played the rest of the game with more grit than I had ever seen, and while we did not score another run, neither did the opposing team. We were headed to the championship.