Perfect Pitch

by typehere

Girl baseball player

A spontaneous decision is what brought me here at the public baseball stadium looking out at the people who are practicing randomly all around the field.  I’m with my brother and we are here because of a bet we made after I watched some funny YouTube videos.  The videos were about some famous celebrities throwing the first pitch of the game.  I was laughing so hard that my brother heard it and proposed a bet.

I won’t lose to some bet so I agreed with him.  I’m not going out there without knowing anything so I scanned the basics of baseball pitch a little before we headed out here at the public stadium.  Three days as my brother’s servant will be very hard, I knew that well. I’m not going to lose on this one.

I stand now on the grass and my brother at a distance.  I gripped the ball with my middle and index fingers and hid it in the glove that my brother borrowed from an acquaintance who was also hanging out at the stadium.  I slowly held up my hands towards my chest, both of my elbows aligning with it.  I looked at my brother and he was slacking off.

I shifted my weight to my left foot and lifted my right leg to prepare myself and get a lot of force for my throw.  As my leg gets back to the grass, my arm is swung down with my leg bent so I can get to the lowest point before my throw.  As I stride outwards, I push off with my back foot to get more power on my pitch. I extended my arm and let the ball glide off my wrist.

I watched as the ball flew in the air and found its sweet receiving spot on the grass, maybe a couple of centimeters from my brother’s hands.  He was in awe, of course. We both knew that he could catch it, I’m not that strong.  I lifted my cap a little so he would let me go on another pitch.

I could feel that there was something wrong when I threw the ball.  I missed out on something.  As I caught the ball again, I remembered what it was.  I wasn’t able to balance myself on the first throw.  So I went on again with all the information I crammed in my head before we went out here.

The article said that I should be consistent with my throw, so I stick to the curveball grip.  I could feel my index finger sweating so I wiped it off for a bit.  I won’t let him boss me around for three days, which is why I am determined not to lose on this match.

“You’re just lucky!”  my brother shouted from afar.  I know his dirty speech plays and I won’t mind them.  I could feel the better control of the ball with just one good pitch.  I tried my hardest to keep the same arm angle and distance from the grass before throwing, and it was a perfect pitch.  And a perfect weekend by having my brother as a servant.

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