Could Have, Should Have, Would Have

By Zack Keaton

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It was a Friday night in early spring, a glimmer of light faded as the mountains loomed over the city. Twilight had set; the day was almost gone. I stood in the on-deck circle, anxiously waiting. “Ball four!” the umpire called, as my teammate jogged to first base. Now I had the chance I so desperately wanted. I glanced over my shoulder and was astonished. My whole team had given up. Dirt covering their uniforms, they sat on the bench with looks of disappointment. At that moment I knew it was up to me.

The next seven steps I took to reach the clouded, disgruntled batter’s box, felt like an eternity. My body ached with anxiety, my thoughts scrambled around like bees in their hive. I had finally reached the plate. I ground the dirt under my cleat, filling in what looked like craters from my previous swings earlier in the game. The pitcher shot me a glare. He had one last chance to win the game, but he had his work cut out for him. We made eye contact, and I could see his face looked nervous. At that moment I realized the immensity of the situation I held in my hand. I could take this game myself. After he “came set”, my desperation turned into determination. I was going to win.

“Ball one!” the umpire barked. I stepped out and re-adjusted my batting gloves. As I reset myself, I heard my father urge: “Like a lead off!” which means to take the pitches, work the count, and be patient. I took every word he spoke and utilized it, every one. The pitcher “came set” once again; and as he threw I loaded my weight on my back foot, and began my swing. The pop of the bat echoed as the ball flew straight BACK; just missing what could have been the game-winning hit.

At this point in my “at bat”, I stepped out to re-adjust, not my gloves, but my mind. I was nervous, anxious; the thought of success clouded my mind with unrealistic outcomes. I had to re-think what my plan was. I closed my eyes and said to myself, “Hit a line drive hard, and get the run in.” And that is what I strived to do. I set my feet in, about shoulder width apart, and shortened my swing. the crowd was excited for a brief second, as I pulled a ball just foul down the right field line. I was down to my last strike.

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I now had one last opportunity to make myself, and my team, champions.

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The pitch came. I began my swing but held back, he had spiked a curveball in the dirt. The count was now 2-2, which is in any way, shape or form, a pitcher count. I stepped out to guess what might come next. The bases were loaded and he had walked the last batter and just thrown a curveball into the dirt. So I set my mind expecting a fastball. He needed a strike, nothing to far off the plate, but anything close enough to get me to go fishing. The pitch came, and I was right. He had thrown a fastball on the inside half of the plate. I had already made my mind up to swing long before the pitcher even set foot on the rubber. As I made contact with the ball I thought I had done it. But I hit the top half of the ball, and had grounded out to first base. The glimmer of light had completely faded, and the game was over due to the darkness.

This moment in my life changed my outlook. On everything. If I had spent the time hitting off the tee, and over-all just been more focused, that day could have gone in a whole other direction.

But I didn’t. I sat on the couch and watched TV the day before, and it came back to cost me a hit.

I still think about that day, the day I could have been better, and I smile. I smile because it is a constant reminder of what I want in life. I want success, I want to win, and I don’t want to have a meaningless life. I want to be remembered.

That day is my motivation. I will never waste an opportunity like that again – in baseball or life. I just want to be happy.

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This is Zack Keaton’s first blog for AAH. Click on his picture to read his biography on the Contributing Writers and Editors page.

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Photo credit: Sam MacCutchan