Full Count in the Dugout

Marcus's palms were sweating. Again. He wiped them on his jeans, leaving dark streaks that made his mother's voice echo in his head: 'You need to stop stressing, you're going to give yourself ulcers.' But what did she expect? Today was baseball tryouts, and half the school was watching.

'You good, man?' Tyrell asked, nudging him with an elbow. 'You look like you're about to hurl.'

'Marcus swallowed hard. 'Nah, I'm chill. Just... you know.' He gestured vaguely at the field, where Coach Miller was explaining the batting order.

The truth was, Marcus wasn't chill. He'd been choking down vitamin supplements for three weeks, trying to bulk up because someone had commented on how 'slight' he looked last season. He'd forced himself to eat spinach smoothies that tasted like wet lawn clippings. He'd spent every morning practicing his swing until his hands blistered. All because he wanted to prove he belonged on varsity.

But standing there, watching the seniors crack jokes and toss their bats like they were extensions of their arms, Marcus felt like a fraud.

'Marcus! You're up!' Coach Miller called.

His heart hammered. He stepped toward the plate, gripping the bat until his knuckles turned white. The first pitch came—fast, low, outside. Strike one. The second was high and inside. Strike two.

'Just relax, kid,' Coach yelled from the dugout. 'Stop trying to bear down so hard.'

Marcus exhaled. He thought about his dad, who'd taught him to play in their backyard. 'Baseball's 90% mental,' he'd always say. 'The other half is physical.' Which made no sense, somehow made perfect sense.

Third pitch. Marcus didn't think. He didn't overanalyze. He just swung.

CRACK.

The ball soared over the left fielder's head, bouncing against the fence. The team went wild. As Marcus trotted toward first base, he realized something: all those vitamins, all that spinach, none of it mattered. What mattered was showing up, taking the swing, and letting the rest figure itself out.

His palms were still sweating. But that was okay. He'd earned it.