The Hitting Zone Chapter 1066 V3 Ch300 VS Servite HS (2)

Chapter 1066 V3 Ch300 VS Servite HS (2)

"It's popping for a Thursday night." Sean commented as he walked into the clubroom. There were a few of us hanging around. Me. Dave. Mitch.e.l.l. Joey. Matt. "Those bleachers are packed." He sat down a few spots from where I was laying on the floor. "You good, Jake?"

"He can't hit in the cages." Mitch.e.l.l said. "He's probably contemplating life."

"Who is stopping him from going to hit a few? Coach?" He guessed. 

"It's all those people that want to watch him." Dave explained. "We came down right after school, thinking it would be less crowded. And it was. Until Jake started hitting. He attracted a crowd. A lot of scouts, coaches, and randoms. Jake is decompressing right now."

Sean nodded understandably. He leaned over me. "Jake, just to prep you, we're going to have a packed house tonight. We have more people here than ever before. A lot of Servite fans seem to be showing up too. Honestly, if we had a place as big as them, it would be a sold out show."

I felt some tension in my back loosen up. My hands also unclenched. 

"Uh, am I crazy or did Jake just relaxed after I said that there were a lot of Servite fans?" Sean asked, looking around at the others. 

Dave laughed. "Yea, he's weird like that. His own fans stress him out. People cheering against him? It's fine. People rooting for him to do well? Stick a fork in him. He's done."

"It's going to be tough for him." Mitch.e.l.l added. "The more popular he is, the more fans there'll be."

"You guys are acting very nonchalant for having our best batter on the floor." Sean remarked. 

"Noah already went to get Dr. Moore. The psychologist." Dave waved him off. "Plus, we still have time. Only worry when Jake throws up and then panic when he pa.s.ses out. This is baby stuff."

Sean nodded in agreement and moved away on the bench a little more so I had more s.p.a.ce. 

"I think it's wild that this is the best batter in the state." Joey commented from his end of the room. "I feel like I should do a showdown with Jake. But make it very public and have all his fans show up to cheer him on. It'd be something out of a movie. I act as a villain. Supporters of the protagonist show up. Jake crumbles under the expectations. I strike out the best and make a name for myself. The supporters realize it's their own fault and blame themselves."

I s.h.i.+vered. 

"d.a.m.n, man." Matt cursed. "Whose team are you on?" 

"What? I'm just speculating. Heck, it's merely a dream." Joey said. "We all know I can't really beat him. Jake, I have absolute confidence in you." He called out to tell me. 

"Can you not?" I flipped over onto my stomach. Everyone had confidence in me. They all believed in me. Great. Fantastic. But what happens when I let them down? Will they still like me and accept me? Or will they all be mad and disappointed?

Noah and Dr. Moore chose to enter at this point in time. Mr. Miller and Coach were right behind them. My audience was growing bigger. Maybe if I close my eyes tight enough, I'll disappear. Or melt into the floor and never come out again. 

"And you don't think we need to call your parents?" Mr. Miller asked. 

"Nah." Noah said. "This is minor. He just needs a pep talk from a pro." He slapped Dr. Moore on the back. "Counting on you, Dr. Moore. Warmups starts in an hour."

Dr. Moore was the only one of the four to approach me. He surprised me by getting down on the dirty floor and laid beside me. "Hey, Jake."

I pursed my lips together. "Hey."

"I see that you have pressured yourself into a downward spiral again."

"It happens." Noah said. 

I rolled my eyes. 

"I've got to ask." Dr. Moore ignored Noah and continued. "Do you think you feel pressured because you might let them down? Despite the fact that you've been phenomenal."

My heart started to pound at the hidden compliment. "I'm not as great as everyone thinks I am."

"You are." Noah added from across the room. 

"Well, let's say you do let them down." Dr. Moore's suggestion didn't make me feel so good. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Everyone hates me?"

He chuckled. "I think it'll take a lot of work and effort to get everyone to hate you. But okay. Say that they did. So what? Does their opinion matter?"

I tapped the floor. "Not necessarily."

"Whose opinions matter to you?"

"My family. My friends. My coaches. My teammates." I listed the four groups. 

"I don't think any one of them would be mad if you got out or made an error." Dr. Moore told me. 

"I know, but I'd be mad at myself." I sighed. 

"Ah. See. Your opinion of yourself matters the most." Dr. Moore said. "You set unbelievably high standards for yourself. If you don't succeed and meet those expectations, you hurt your own self-esteem. It's a vicious cycle that you have trouble leaving."

I frowned. "What can I do? It's not like I can rewrite the way I think. I want to do my best and help the team win."

"You'll have to change the way you think. Slowly but surely, it'll come." Dr. Moore told me. "You have to remind yourself constantly, that the people in that are rooting for you, won't leave after an error or two. They want the best for you too. Why is that a bad thing?"

"He's not used to it." Dave snapped his fingers and pointed at me. He started to wag his finger. "You weren't used to talking for a long time too, Jake. You can rewrite anything about yourself as long you work on it and give yourself time."

"Very good, Dave." Dr. Moore said from his spot beside me on the floor. He looked at me. "Even if you become the worst baseball player of all time, that's not everything that makes you, you, is it?"

"Nah. He's annoyingly good at math!" Dave added his thoughts again. 

My lips twitched. 

Dr. Moore waited for me this time, not answering to Dave. 

"It's not everything, but it feels like a big part." I said. 

"It can be as big as you want it to be." He shrugged. "Or however small you want it to be. Just like how you have to physically practice baseball to become a better player; you have to work on yourself mentally too. Cut yourself some slack. It's good to set goals, not deadlines."

"Shouldn't goals have deadlines?" Joey asked. 

Dr. Moore started a small group talk. "Goals are intangible and nonlinear. Someone going to college for example, can say he wants to graduate in the normal four years. Someone else might want to do it sooner like three. Person C could want to do it in five years to give himself more time to focus so he can have better grades. But just because these three people have given themselves deadlines, doesn't mean they can't accomplish the goal: graduate college."

Dr. Moore continued to talk about the limits we set on ourselves and how it could hinder us from full potential. All the others in the room seem to be interested which was comforting. I wasn't a weirdo for needing a therapist. I was just uninformed. 

As more and more players walked in, we moved off the floor and on to a bench. Eventually it was time for Dr. Moore to go and for me to get ready for the game. 

"Every cheer for you is a well-meaning wish." Dr. Moore told me as I walked him out. "They want you to do well, but if you don't, then they're probably just going to cheer harder." He clapped me on the shoulder. "And even if they all got mad at you, who cares? Your parents and brothers still love you. That won't change. These small panic attacks you have will pa.s.s. Just hang in there."

I smiled shyly, but happy to know I have something to rely on. 

"Good luck today. I'm rooting for you and the team." Dr. Moore waved and left. 

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