The Bull in the Batter's Box

Jordan's hands were literally shaking as he stepped into the batter's box. The entire varsity baseball team was watching, and Coach Miller had that look like he was mentally calculating how fast he could cut Jordan.

"You got this, bro!" whispered Marcus, Jordan's best friend since kindergarten, from the dugout. Marcus was the only person who knew Jordan's secret: he'd rather be running laps than swinging a bat.

The pitcher wound up and threw. Jordan swung, missed completely, and stumbled. The stadium erupted in laughter. Jordan felt his face burning hotter than a fever dream.

Then, out of nowhere, this massive bull—a literal bull—came tearing onto the field from the adjacent farm where the agricultural program kept their animals. Chaos erupted. Players scattered, screaming like little kids.

Jordan didn't think. His body just reacted. He took off, running faster than he ever had in his life, dodging the bull's charges like he was in some bizarre video game. The bull was gaining on him, snorting and stomping, but Jordan's legs found a rhythm he'd never felt before. He felt alive, electric, completely in his element.

He led the bull away from the team, toward the open field gate, then slid through and slammed it shut. The bull huffed and pawed the ground, then wandered off.

Coach Miller and the team stared at Jordan like he'd grown three heads. Marcus jogged over, eyes wide. "Dude. That was legendary. You were literally running for your life out there."

Jordan started laughing, couldn't stop. The adrenaline, the absurdity, everything hit him at once. "I think I just found my calling, bro."

"Cross country?" Marcus grinned. "Finally. I was wondering when you'd quit faking the baseball thing."

The next day, Jordan quit the team and tried out for cross country. Coach Miller was salty about losing a player, but whatever. Jordan traded his batting gloves for running shoes and never looked back. Sometimes it takes getting chased by a bull to figure out who you're actually meant to be.