"His eyes locked on the pitchers mound, waiting for the ball to launch in his path. He tightened his grip on the bat in his hands, the hefty weight heavy in his palms as he teetered lightly on his feet to secure his balance. A split second, he nearly missed it. The white sphere hurtled towards him as the pitcher finally uncurled his arm and let it fly. Bracing his legs hard against the ground below him he took a swing, throwing in everything. His anger, his frustration, his anxieties. He let every struggle he had power his strength into his blow as he arched his arms in a perfect swing, following through in a graceful calm, exhaling deeply. The crack felt world-shattering as the bat connected and the ball catapulted into the distance. He wasn't listening for it, it didn't matter if it connected. It was momentary bliss. Control for a split second, freedom for a moment. Being able to let go of everything and just swing with all he had and all he was and just for a moment, forget. As he faded back into what felt like normal, he could hear the crowd roaring behind him, a cacophony of noise urging him forward. So he ran.
His feet thundered the dirt as he darted for first base, edging past the sneering baseman who begrudgingly gave him room to round it. He continued to second, racing as if his life depended on it. He was running to keep his adrenaline high, his feeling of freedom. He skidded on the second base, sliding in the dirt he neared a single inch from toppling over. If he were less careful he'd have tumbled and had to pick himself up again. His balance saved him, and he veered towards third. The sounds of cheering felt like some enemy creeping up behind him. He had tuned it out, but it was getting more vivid. He'd just crossed third when he picked up on some shouting. They'd finally tracked down that ball in the field, and were throwing it back. He didn't have time to worry how far it was. He bolted. His legs ached with the effort and his chest burned as he dove for home, just in time for the ball to come rolling along the dirt, colliding into his side. He laid in the dust with one hand rested on the edge of home. Safe, but only barely. He let out a deflated woosh of air as he laid there for a moment, the cheers had hit a fever pitch, but all he knew was that the problems he'd sent sky high had found their way back again like they always did.
He'd suppose, that would seem disappointing, but he knew he could command them. Even if they'd come back, he'd have the power, the skill -to send them away again. And this time, he won. He'd win again. Thats why he played this sport. It afforded him the breath of fresh air he struggled to find otherwise. It was his way, just like many others had to find theirs. It felt right in his brain to relate the things out of his grip- to a sport he could understand. He picked himself up, standing hunched over for a moment to catch his breath. His coach patted him on the shoulder but he couldn't do much more than offer a half-smile as he nodded and stood up to walk his way back to the benches. He hoped he'd bat again today. He still had some things on his mind to deal with."
i dont know anything about baseball i literally went to 1 game when i was like 7 and didnt do anything but gripe for ice cream the whole time big RIP
