Bald on the Mound

The clippers buzzed like an angry hornet in my bathroom mirror. My mom watched, tears practically dripping into her homemade salsa.

"Mijo, are you sure? Your beautiful hair—"

"Mom, it's falling out anyway. Might as well own it." I ran my hand through the thin patches that had made me look like I'd been attacked by a lawnmower. Sixteen years old and my hair was ghosting me harder than my crush did at homecoming.

Next day at baseball practice, Coach Miller pulled me aside. I'd made varsity as a pitcher—a miracle, honestly—and I'd been stressing about losing my spot.

"Son, I got something for you." He pressed a bottle into my palm. "Special vitamins. My brother-in-law swears by 'em. Good for hair, good for energy. You need both."

I looked at the label: "MIGHTY MULTE-VITE." Definitely sketchy. But I was desperate.

For two weeks, I chugged two vitamins daily. My teammates roasted me. "Perez taking his candy vitamins again!" Marcus yelled across the dugout. I just flipped him off and kept pitching.

And here's the thing—I started crushing it. My fastball gained speed. My control was insane. The hair didn't grow back (obviously), but I stopped caring. The bald head became my thing. Intimidating. Fierce.

Championship game. Bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. Their best hitter stepped up—a sophomore I'd known since kindergarten, currently wearing a smirk that made me want to hit him with the ball.

I struck him out. Game over. We won.

In the locker room, Coach Miller grinned. "Those vitamins work, huh?"

"Yeah, Coach. Crazy good stuff." I tossed the bottle in my bag.

Later that night, my little sister was rummaging through my room, being annoying as usual.

"What's this?" She held up the vitamin bottle.

"Coach's special vitamins. Why?"

She squinted at the label, then cracked up laughing. "Bro, these are just sugar pills! My friend's mom sells them for 'placebo effect' or whatever. They're literally candy."

I stared at the bottle. Then at my reflection in the mirror—bald head, varsity jacket, championship ring.

And I started laughing too. The hair, the vitamins, the confidence—it wasn't the pills. It was me all along.

"Hey," I called to my sister. "Toss me one. I think I need some more candy for tomorrow's game."