Let’s start off by accepting the fact there are certain, albeit few, absolutes in life. The presence of good and evil, for instance. Or the fact the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.
With this knowledge in mind, let’s go a step further and admit there are both right and wrong paths to take in life. This fact, too, is an absolute. Problem is, you don’t know what your right path is.
Werner Park is completely empty at the moment, save for you. You’re alone amongst nine thousand empty seats. The sun is starting to set behind the architecture. The temperature is a comfortable seventy degrees.
Baseball. For over a decade your entire life has been baseball. Now, though, at thirty, you wonder if you still want to dedicate yourself to hurling balls like the one you’re holding in your hand.
You wind up and throw a burner. From the mound you can tell it traveled around eighty-five miles an hour across home plate. Fast, but not fast enough.
You have to fire it close to ninety to get into the majors. You’ve never been able to do that. At least not consistently.
Remember the night the scout from the Royals came up? How he said you were one good showing under the Stalker Gun away from getting the call?
Why hasn’t that panned out for you? Have you not worked hard enough? Or are you simply not good enough to make that final leap into the stratosphere?
You plunk down right on the dusty pitcher’s mound and contemplate. You’re still good at thirty, but still not good enough. What can you do to improve?
Your mind begins to wander. If there actually is something that can help you improve at this point, are you even willing to try it?
If the answer is no, then why? Because you’re lazy? Or because, at this point, you’re simply in over your head?
As the sun dips behind the stadium you fight for inner clarity. Is the very fact you’re having this internal conversation proof you can’t make it into the Majors? It’s doubtful Stephen Strasburg has ever had moments like this and he’s almost five years your junior.
Think about that. When you were playing in the farm system he was only in high school. And now he’s surpassed you. There’s countless others like him, too.
Still, there’s the absolute which says there are right and wrong paths to take in life. You’ve believed this path is the right one for so long, it’s difficult to call it a wrong one now.
You get back on your feet and prepare to leave. You realize, however, that the sun has now gone completely down and the lights of the stadium are off.
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Sean Crose’s work has appeared in numerous publications. He lives in Connecticut with his wife Jen, and Cody, the world’s greatest cat. You can visit his blog at http://mrcrose.blogspot.com/
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