He was tan and blond. 100 pounds of lithe, sinewy athletic 10-year-old. I was his girlfriend. His sister told me she saw my initials penned on his palm. He certainly knew the delicate balance between teasing and pursuit – and I loved him. But he didn’t know that. Tardy as I was to return his attentions, someone else ended up with the prize. I met him at old-time summer league baseball. I was the coach’s daughter.
Today, I am not writing to bemoan the one that got away. What I remember is his poise on the mound – and the encouragements his father hollered from the stands. He was a pitcher, quick and confident. I heard his dad describe him as high-strung. Once he cautioned against cockiness.
When our team was in the field, and batter up, his dad called, “Let’s hear some chatter out there.” Not only does chatter intimidate and confuse the batter, apparently it encourages the pitcher. Who would have thought it? When I am concentrating and focused, I like quiet. The last thing I want is all my co-workers setting up auditory chaos. Despite the chatter, the savvy ten-year-old could pitch that ball right across the plate more often than not. When he gave up a base or a run and was incensed with himself, his dad would call, “Walk it off, baby; walk it off.” When he was wound tight as a drum with adrenaline and riding a cloud of success, we heard the same admonition, “Walk it off, baby; walk it off.”
Pitcher would pace. Pitcher would scowl at the thieving runners leading off from base. Then, Pitcher would wind up and deliver a strike.
It works for me. It works when coworkers start that infernal chatter of intimidation. It works when family conversations become derailed. It works when I see opportunity coming down the pike and I know without a shadow of doubt I will be called on to rise to the occasion. Serenity and a calm, clear head are essential to success. I get those things when I take a hike in the great outdoors; one foot in front of the other.
Walk it off, baby, walk it off! And then, wind up and deliver!