Nervous as an expectant father

My baby boy is 8 years old and playing on a 10u team, he’s a good player and gets to pitch once in awhile. Last week he got to take the mound and I looked at where he was on their lineup and he got put in right at the top of their order. To say I was a little nervous would be an understatement. He managed to strike out the first batter and second batter. Then walked the third batter, which he picked off at first but the first baseman dropped the ball. Then up to bat was the other team’s big hitter that is known for hitting balls over the fence…I haven’t been that nervous since being in the delivery room.

nice job of moving the ball around. The big guy helped Logan out by reaching for that high and outside ball, but coming back low and in was just the right follow-up pitch to freeze him up. Hopefully, that will generate more opportunities on the bump for him.

[quote=“SpikeDmax”]My baby boy is 8 years old and playing on a 10u team, he’s a good player and gets to pitch once in awhile. Last week he got to take the mound and I looked at where he was on their lineup and he got put in right at the top of their order. To say I was a little nervous would be an understatement. He managed to strike out the first batter and second batter. Then walked the third batter, which he picked off at first but the first baseman dropped the ball. Then up to bat was the other team’s big hitter that is known for hitting balls over the fence…I haven’t been that nervous since being in the delivery room.
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Lol…i like the video w/ intro format!-)

I love seeing strikeouts of players that beat the plate up like they think they are bam bam…nice job!

Tell me about it!
When I was pitching, way back when, I used to love seeing that type of hitter come up to the plate. You know the ones—those guys who drool and lick their chops at the prospect of slamming one out of the ballpark, across the street and into Aunt Minnie’s kitchen window. I would drool and lick my chops at the prospect of what I was going to do to them with the stuff I had. And I would do it. It was such a kick, watching them as they stood up there at the plate waiting…and waiting…and waiting for the one pitch they would never get from me because I didn’t have it. Yup—a fastball. I was one of those finesse pitchers, an exasperating, infuriating sidearmer who used the crossfire a lot, and I would feed those characters a steady diet of slider, knuckle-curve and a closetful of assorted changeups, move the ball around, stay away from the middle of the plate, and watch as they either stood there and went “duh” or swung and missed and lost their balance and fell over on the tush with arms and legs (and sometimes bats) up in the air. Either way it was a strikeout, and I loved every moment of it.
I remember the first time that happened, and I immediately thought of an overturned bug with a baseball cap. I mentioned it to my incredible pitching coach, and the joke was born—every time we would discuss my strikeouts, “The Bug” entered the picture. As for my teammates, they all looked forward to when I would pitch, because they knew they were going to see another episode—or two—or three—of what we called “The Insect Show”. Yes, I was a strikeout pitcher—and every once in a while, just for variety, I would induce a little squibber right to the first baseman—which gave me an opportunity to call the batter a “lousy hitter”.
Ahhh…those were the days. :slight_smile: 8) :baseballpitcher: