The Mound: A Pitcher’s Revelation

The Mound: A Pitcher’s Revelation

        There are many things in life that make people feel powerful: money, cars, women, etc. But to those select few, the pitching mound is the key to all power. A pitching mound is, relatively, the same everywhere you go. They’re used for the same purpose and give you that same sense of power. To understand this power, you must understand baseball and its intricacies. Baseball is a game dealing with, generally, 5 main points: reflex, skill, determination, discipline, and respect. When you’re up on that mound, another point hits you: responsibility. I have been friends with the mound since 1995 and many people don’t understand what comes with the total control of the baseball, but I do.

       The mound is not for the faint of heart. Once you’re up there, you are responsible for the tempo and the outcome for most of the game. Let me take you through the heart of a pitcher.

       Before the game starts, you warm up. You hold the baseball by its seams, wind up, and throw the ball with all your might. Now many people think pitcher’s wait for the ball to be called by the umpire to find out if it’s a strike or a ball, but the truth is the second the ball leaves your hand, you know whether it’s a good ball or it’s not. There’s not really a scientific reason for it, but you just get that warm feeling of perfection or the cold shivers of a ball that’s about to be obliterated by the batter (in that case all you do is pray it’s not a home run). While your warming up this is what you think about; it’s the pregame jitters. Warming up is not only to loosen your arm, but also it gives you a chance to mentally prepare yourself for the competition ahead.

       The moment you hear, “PLAY BALL!” shouting out the umpire’s mouth, it’s no longer a game but a fight. You walk up to the mound while the others jog to their positions. You walk because you need time to connect with the one thing that will help you win this 9 inning fight; the pitching mound. Once you reach the hump shaped dirt, you have to mold it to your comfortability. With the spikes, on the bottom of your cleats, you scrape away a spot for your foot and slip into the hole; this will give you your pitching power. With one foot on the hole and one foot on the white rubber strip, you’ve partnered up with the mound and are now ready to fight. As the game begins you see the batter walk up with his weapon of choice; a baseball bat. 2lbs of solid wood specifically made to humiliate you and make you look unskilled.

       The batter steps up, sets his stand, and challenges you with a solid glare. You return the glare, wind up, push off the mound, and throw. You’ve felt the push, you’ve felt the release of the ball, and everything seems perfect; you see the ball fly right to the catcher’s mitt. “STRIKE ONE!” yells the umpire. You tell yourself, “Two more”, and set up again. You may hear some noises in your head, “Can you do two more? Are you good enough? He’s going to hit it…” Take a deep breath, shake it off, and reset. You wind up, push off the mound, and throw. You’ve felt the push, you’ve felt the release of the ball, and, this time, you know you’ve messed up. The ball curves inside towards the batter. If it hits him, you just gave away a base, if you miss him it’s a ball. All in all, you have to be wishing for the ball. The ball zooms towards the plate and barely misses the batter. The umpire bellows, “BALL!” Now you’re a little worried about what’s going to happen next. You wind up, push off the mound, and throw. You’ve felt the push, you’ve felt the release of the ball, and it feels good. It zooms toward the catcher’s mitt, but there’s something wrong; the batter has decided that this is a good ball to swing at and he does. The bat makes solid contact with the ball. “Damn” you think, you just messed up. You remember that you’re not alone though. The ball bolts on the ground toward the second baseman; he picks catches it and throws it to the first baseman. “OUT!” roars the first base umpire. You’re saved and you still have a lot of work to do so you and the mound should get to it.

       Disrespecting the mound will always get you in trouble. I know this first hand. After I entered high school, I gave up baseball. I believed that I was wasting my time with it and that I could be doing other things. I tried other sports: volleyball, soccer, basketball, football, and many more. None of these sports filled the hole that was left from leaving baseball. My junior year of high school, I realized this and tried to go back. I stepped up on that mound, did the usual, but there was something wrong. I didn’t feel the power I usually felt; I felt weak and alone. My pitches kept getting returned, ten-fold, by the batter, and for the first time I couldn’t pitch.

       I’d lost my lifelong friend. When I abandoned the mound, it had abandoned me. It’s something that I wish I could change in my life but I can’t. The mound is helping those who’ve never abandoned it while I live my life with the thought that the days I used to be great are over, forever.