Rather than spending the majority of my weekend irking with anticipation, I made it a point to relax and not think about the fact that I was set to throw off a mound earlier today. I hung out with my friends, worked out, did some homework assignments. I ate pizza and wings and watched the Super Bowl with a group of people. After the game yesterday I decided it was about time to start winding down and getting ready for bed. I settled in with the lights out at around 10 PM (an unheard of early time for college kids) and started trying to go to sleep. I tossed and turned for a few minutes and couldn't seem to get comfortable. I'd feel hot, then cold. Soon thereafter, a headache seeped in.
Before long, I was fully entrenched in a sickness. I spent much of my night last night jockeying back and forth from my bedroom to the bathroom, shimmying beneath my sheets in desperate attempts to get comfortable. I had fallen victim to exactly what my girlfriend had fallen victim to the night before, a woeful misfortune of the dreaded "24 hour stomach bug".
Finally when the clock turned to 4 AM and I still hadn't slept, I knew I'd had enough. I texted the head coach of my college team and told him I wouldn't be able to make our morning conditioning because I was sick (this normally would not be OK but I am unable to participate in any capacity aside from coaching duties due to the NCAA's policies on medical redshirting, so therefore missing a morning conditioning practice isn't the end of the world). I tossed and turned and sprinted to the bathroom a few times more before FINALLY falling asleep.
I awoke at about 10 o'clock, sleeping right through my first class of the day. I struggled and made my way to campus for my 11 and 12 o'clock classes, feeling abnormally sore and sick from the previous night's conditions. I dredged my way through those few classes and went to the training room. I was told that I wouldn't be allowed to even attempt to do anything physical if I couldn't hold any food down. So I went back home and had two pieces of toast and some chicken noodle soup, which surprisingly sat fine in my stomach. In fact, I think it may have given me a little strength. I went back up to campus and was given permission to change into my practice gear and continue on with the rehab I was supposed to do.
Today was a rare opportunity for my college team to take advantage of the abnormally warm weather conditions and practice outside (unheard of for February 6th in upstate New York). I made my way up to the field with our starting catcher and began warming up in the outfield, attempting to work through the sickness as best as I could. I completed the required warm-up throwing, out to 120 feet, and then proceeded to make my way to the bullpen mounds.
Despite the weak condition of my body, the number one feeling I had as I approached the rubber was emotions. I was a nervous wreck, staring at the mound of dirt that seemed like it was a thousand feet in the air. I climbed to the top and quickly maneuvered the ground around beneath me, making comfortable planting and landing areas that I'd become accustomed to pitching in the past. A crowd of teammates began accumulating around me, knowing very well that this was my first time off a mound since the injury occurred. I finally moved the dirt around enough to feel comfortable and stepped to the front of the mound. After unleashing a few more warm up tosses, I motioned for my catcher to squat down. I came set, took a deep gulp, and threw.
The ball sailed through the air slowly, at about 50% of my maximum velocity (as designed by the doctor's protocol). As I finished my follow through I walked my catcher's mitt engulf the ball 60 feet 6 inches away from me, before he quickly transferred it back to his throwing hand to throw it back to me.
Such an action is something that I've taken for granted and overlooked in the past. The act of pitching a baseball used to be so easy to me, it was something that never had any physical or emotional ramifications other than some next day soreness or getting hit around that day. But throwing that first pitch earlier this afternoon, releasing it towards my target, that was something that I missed so dearly. The feeling of exploding down the mound, of getting on top of the ball and driving it towards home plate. That is something I will never take for granted again.
I threw 14 more pitches that were very similar to the first one and concluded my session for the day. I continued my coaching duties and proceeded to complete my necessary rehab exercises.
I learned a lesson today, a very good lesson. Obstacles such as sickness cannot hold me back from what I am trying to accomplish. Because what I want to accomplish is something I haven't been able to do in a long, long time, and it's something I want to do very dearly. Pitch a baseball.
This afternoon, I did just that.
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