Washington, D.C. | This is probably my last column for the 20-Minutemen. I didn’t accomplish what I set out to, and barring some kind of miracle, I probably won’t this Saturday — I haven’t gotten the ball even close to the outfield, never mind over a hypothetical fence.
This season, I discovered what people who play sports regularly have probably known for years — a lot of things have to go right for a batter to even get on first base. I used to think that if you hit the ball, well, then you’d get a hit. But I learned quickly there are a lot of people in the field trying to stop that from happening.
Instead, I’ve come to appreciate the thrill of small steps. Getting halfway to first before someone threw the ball to the baseman seemed like a big accomplishment a couple of games ago. Smacking the ball hard enough to (barely) get on base took a season of figuring out how to hold the bat and swing with my whole body. And when I finally did it, I was as proud of myself as I would have been had I hit a game-winning grand slam.
Maybe next year will be the year I hit a home run (or at least a double). In the meantime, I’m on to my next project — becoming a genuine baseball fan, complete with an encyclopedic knowledge of my team’s roster and its various ups and downs. Now that I understand the understand the rules, how hard can it be?
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