Goldfish on the Mound

I was supposed to be the star pitcher. Dad's legacy, coach's golden boy, the guy who could throw a fastball that made hitters' knees buckle. Instead, I was just a guy with a goldfish in a Ziploc bag, running away from everything.

"You coming to practice, Marcus?" Tyler yelled from his pickup, probably off to smoke behind the bleachers like always.

"Nah, gotta... do something," I muttered, already sprinting toward the woods behind the baseball field. The goldfish - I'd named her Liberty because she deserved better than that plastic carnival bag - swished against my palm.

Third base, my position. That's where everyone saw me. The guy who could tag out a runner like nobody's business. But nobody knew I'd been sneaking out to the old track every morning at 5 AM, running until my lungs burned. Nobody knew I'd applied to the summer track camp across state.

"Marcus!" Coach's voice carried. "Team meeting!"

I kept running. Liberty's orange scales caught the sunlight through the bag. She'd been living in a bowl smaller than my glove, swimming in endless circles. Just like me.

The creek behind the baseball diamond glittered. This was it. No more expectations. No more "your father would be proud." No more pretending baseball was my whole universe when actually, it felt like a batting cage I couldn't escape.

"You're really doing this?" I whispered to the fish. "You and me, starting over."

I tipped the bag. Liberty slipped into the current, gone in a flash of silver and orange. Free.

My phone buzzed. Dad. Coach. Tyler. Probably wondering where the hell their star player was.

I turned toward the track instead of the field. My legs knew the way - all those secret morning runs, all that training nobody knew about. Regionals were next week. And for the first time, I wasn't running away from something. I was running toward everything I actually wanted.

The baseball diamond looked small from here. Just another place where people expected you to be who they wanted you to be.

I adjusted my shoes, took a breath, and started running. For real this time.