Impact
I’ve got a story to share with you, and I like to call this story: “Impact”
It’s almost my turn; I’m next to bat,
I stand up in the dugout whereat
I see the pitcher warming up—
Just to see him throw made me jump,
‘Cause he was throwing wildly:
The ball was a blur, it was hard to see.
It’s my turn now, I walk to the plate:
My parents weren’t there to spectate
And see the fear in me—
This guy looked like he was ready to kill me;
So I bring the bat near my shoulder,
Then he wound up his arm, and I knew it was over.
Despite my fear of getting hit,
My body could not commit
To moving out of the way—
To my dismay,
The ball was cruising to hit my face;
An image my mind cannot erase.
Because I ignored my gut,
What I thought would happen is what
Came to pass,
Alas,
I was stricken in the cheek
And from my mouth, blood did leak.
I tried to swallow some fluid,
Instead, a piece of cheek flew in
My throat;
Just something to note.
I could tell that the crowd was concerned because
When I got up, I got applause;
But man my ears were ringing—
It would be a while until I would be swinging
A bat again:
To this fact, I testify—amen.
By the time I was brought to the ER,
My face looked bizarre;
It looked like I had something stuffed in my face,
Even the baseball left a trace—
You could see where the stitches hit me,
To a degree.
The doctor’s diagnosis was
A mild concussion, just
Swish around, in your mouth, this hydrogen peroxide;
And in you I confide
To give you these pills to eat
And this entire process to repeat.
For a while I couldn’t smile,
But the experience was worthwhile—
It’s the memory,
It’s a part of me.
It’s a big deal because in fact,
It was on my life that ball made an impact
To remind me to trust my gut,
The impact was a lesson and that’s what.