The blinding sun shone through my Oakley’s as a routine pop up struck my big toe, leading to an opposing run. The next play, the ball soared right over my glove as I misplayed a line drive. When I finally grasped the ball from the base of the fence, I stumbled over my own foot resulting in an errant throw and another run. On the ensuing pitch, a routine fly ball squirted from my sustained leather as two more runners scored, one game tying and the other the go-ahead run. Whenever I stepped in the box, the absence of confidence from my coach, my teammates, and from myself thundered over my head like a storm cloud. The red seams of the ball zinged past my bat on each swing. I struck out three times, every opportunity with runners on third base. Three consecutive mishaps and unsuccessful at-bats led to a loss, all because of me. Our season ended after that game, returning home that Saturday, so close to tasting the championship game the ensuing day. Time moved…show more content… However, learning to relax rekindled my desire. As a student, my natural instinct for instant perfection prevented my understanding of baseball. Every hitting lesson with my instructor, he reminded baseball is played for enjoyment. I was too tight and pressed too hard when I played, resulting in failure. I researched quotes from famous professionals regarding their success. Almost every player stressed the importance of balancing an undemanding approach yet maintaining urgency. Starting in the fall of 2014, I played carefree baseball. Everyday at the ballpark I made a conscious effort to smile. Instead of trembling tentatively across the dirt, when my spikes grazed the diamond, I enjoyed myself. Unfortunately I know the game I have played since three years old will not last forever, so I determined myself to enjoy every remaining moment on the diamond. Baseball delved deep into my roots, testing my