They say adrenaline is the most powerful drug in the world. And it is. It was the last game of the season. Our record was 11-2, and we were in second place, behind only Martin Luther King Jr. High School who had a record of 12-2 – their two losses both coming against us. Our final game was against Laguardia, and this game was huge because if we won, we would be tied for first, but would win the division because of our better head-to-head record with Martin Luther King and would receive a number 5 ranking. But if we lost, we would end in second, and would be given a horrible ranking of 28 out of 32.

 

Nobody on the team knew who would pitch that game. Would it be our number 1 Jake Bader, who was only on four days rest? Would it be Luke Christy who had been suffering with back spasms of late? or would it be me, who added stability to what was essentially a three-man pitching staff without me. At the last minute, I got the call – I would start. I had to pitch this game like a playoff game. I felt the pressure and the adrenaline the entire time. This Laguardia team had defeated us for one of our two losses in extra innings against our number 1 Jake, who had posted a herculean 0.80 ERA (5 runs in 45 innings). This lineup also featured two of their better players who had not played in our last meeting. I knew I would have to be able locate my fastball, and be able to dial it up when I needed to. I also knew my curveball would have to spot on and devastating – along with my splitter, which I could use to backdoor a hitter. But I was good under pressure, I lived for it. And in the game of baseball, pressure and adrenaline are the only things that can keep you composed – if you would believe it.

 

The game began, and I immediately hit trouble. I came on and walked the first two batters I faced. I knew immediately something wasn’t working. I went back and started throwing only fastballs. I was able to first get an easy pop out to left field, and then got the next guy 0-2, but again lost control and hit him. The bases were now loaded, and my confidence was not there. I was able to nab a strikeout on three pitches: two fastballs with a extra life on them, and then a devastating curveball in the dirt. And the next pitch, a weak grounder to first, and I was out of the inning.

 

My second inning was equally bad. I began with a walk, and then got a pitch over the plate and gave up a shot double in the gap. Fortunately the run didn’t score, and it was 2^nd and 3^rd, nobody out. Now I was excellent all year with runners in scoring position, probably better than anyone in our division. After having the next batter 0-2, I completely lost control and walked him. And now the bases were loaded with no one out. My coach was not coming out to the mound – I knew he had faith in me. My catcher Danny came out to the mound and told me to give him three hard fastballs. I dialed it up and let it fly, and got three swings and misses. And on the first pitch of the next batter, I got an easy grounder back to me. Throw home for the force, throw to first for the double-play and for the second straight inning with bases loaded and less than two outs, I did not give up a run. Once again, I did not crack under the pressure.

 

I went behind the dugout to be alone and try and gather my concentration. My coach came over to me and told me that he was watching me, and that my mechanics were off. I was leaning with my head which was a weight shift problem, and I was falling off the mound, which was a footwork problem. I took some practice pitches. During that bottom of the inning, we exploded to score four runs and take a huge early 4-0 lead. I went out for the third. My third-baseman came over to me and looked at me and said – start throwing from the stretch, that windup is throwing off all of your mechanics. I gave it a shot.

 

What happened? I gave up one bloop single with one out that inning and then retired every hitter I faced for the rest of the game (14 straight). In the 7^th, with the final three batters, it was my favorite time of the game. We were still up 4-0, I was three outs away from the win, and knowing it was the last inning, I could empty the tank. I could throw fastballs as hard as I could. And I did. I struck out the first two hitter of the 7^th on nine pitches – eight of which were absolute gas. And then a little weak grounder to first, and I had the complete game shutout, the win, the division clinched. We recorded the final out and the entire team ran out to the mound, my catcher jumping into my arms and everyone else piling on after him. It was one of my all-time great moments. This is why I play baseball, to feel that adrenaline, to feel that competition.