Kyle Gates

Kyle Gates

Professor Galli

English 1102

17 August 2025

A Bat and a Ball

Ever since I was a little kid, I have shared a special connection with the sport called baseball. When I was four, my dad signed me up for a local tee-ball league. The first team that I was ever on was the St. Louis Cardinals, and the second I laid eyes on the red and yellow, I fell in love. I continued to play baseball as I grew older, and eventually I made it to coach pitch. My dad, who was the coach of all my teams, showed me nothing but support and encouragement, and my love for the game only grew. Like all little league baseball players, my dream was to make it to the big leagues, specifically the Cardinals, and I had convinced myself that my scrawny and short figure somehow had what it took to beat out all the rest.

When I turned 10 years old, I started playing kid pitch baseball, and the transition from the slow, easy lobs from my dad to what looked like missiles firing out of these kids hands was an extremely difficult one for me. In my first game ever, I got hit in the head with a pitch and I ended up with a concussion. After I had healed from this injury I made my return. However, instead of stepping up to the plate excited to get a hit and show off, I trembled with fear and dread on my way up to the box. The possibility I could get hit with the ball was permanently in the back of my mind, and I just couldn't push past it. This fear became almost all consuming in my mind and eventually I just stopped enjoying playing the sport I used to love.

After 5-6 years away from the game, my dream of becoming a Cardinals player had been lost, but a spark still remained, buried deep within me. Occasionally some friends and I would go and play catch, but never anything organized. Senior year spring semester I decided to give it one last shot. My friend put together a recreational team with 11 guys that I knew really well. As I walked up to the plate for my first at bat of the season, I expected that all too familiar feeling of dread to consume me, but instead it was replaced with that same excitement and anticipation I had felt as a little kid. I ended up hitting a double that at bat, but that wasn’t even what I remember the most. My joy for baseball had returned and I enjoyed playing again. When I first developed my fear of the ball, all I was focused on was performing well to impress my parents and those around me. This led to an overwhelming amount of stress building up in me every at bat, and things just got worse and worse. When I returned to play with my friends, all I cared about was having a good time, and I ended up having the best season of my life. Now I have moved on from baseball, but the lessons it taught me will stick with me as I move forward in college and the rest of my life.