Switching Sides

I never thought I'd be the kid who quit **baseball** for **padel**, but here I am, standing on a court that looks like tennis shrunk in the dryer. The JV team's gonna roast me when they find out. Baseball's been my thing since freshman year — the crack of the bat, the dirt on my cleats, the way the whole school shows up for Friday night games. But ever since I tried padel at that rec center open house, I haven't been able to get it out of my head.

"Your backhand's getting cleaner," says Mateo, effortlessly returning my serve with this casual flick of his wrist. He's been playing since he was twelve, back when nobody in our town knew what padel even was. "But you're still thinking like a baseball player. Too much power, not enough patience."

I laugh, wiping sweat off my forehead. "That's literally what my coach told me last season before benching me."

The cafeteria's our next stop, as predictable as our post-practice hunger. I'm scanning for my usual table when I spot Tyler — my ex-baseball captain — sitting with the varsity crew. They're all laughing about something, probably making fun of someone's Instagram story. I freeze, tray in hand, suddenly hyper-aware that I'm wearing a faded rec league t-shirt instead of my letterman jacket.

That's when Maya slides into the seat beside me, stealing a **spinach** leaf from my salad. "You're overthinking it again. I can literally see your brain working from here."

"I just — " I start, then lower my voice. "I feel like I'm betraying them. Like I'm a fake."

Maya rolls her eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck. "Bro, you're not a traitor because you found something you actually enjoy. Besides, have you seen yourself lately? You're not stressed about batting averages or pretending to care about stats. You're happy."

She points her fork at me. "And that's **bull** — the idea that you owe anyone an explanation for following your gut. Baseball was cool, but this? This is you."

I look over at Tyler's table one more time. They're still laughing, still performing, still trapped in the same cycle I finally escaped. Then I look at Mateo, who's animatedly explaining some padel strategy to a freshman, genuinely hyped to help someone else get better.

"You're right," I say, finally taking a bite of my sandwich. "This is me."