I walk out onto the reddish brown turf mound

I feel the nerves flow through by body as I throw my 8 warm up pitches

I look into their dugout as they get on the fence

There’s no way these kids score any runs against me, they suck

Some laugh and think I will be easy to hit because I’m a submarine pitcher

Others ask how I haven’t gotten Tommy John surgery

All I think is none of you can talk you aren’t even real hitters

They all think that they can hit off me, too bad they are worse than the Yankees in the playoffs.

I finish my warm up

I feel my mouth begin to be as dry as the Sahara Desert

I look at the kid walking up to the plate

He’s gonna strike out, then I’ll take his sister out on a date

Ball 1, Strike 1, Ball 2, then 3 and 4

How did you not get him out

This is why Jay says you should you suck

Man, I’m awful

Charlie is walking up to the plate

He’s just as bad as we was at fourteens

How can you be six foot one and barely get the ball out of the infield

This shouldn’t be that hard

I strike him out looking 

You’re the worst f-ing blue he mutters

Wow kid still does that at sixteen 

Blue boots him out of the baseball game 

It’s the seventh inning though, oh right it’s this blues routine

The next kid walks up shaking his head 

He definitely just wants to go home

He’s got three strikeouts on the day

I’ll just stick to the fastball

Strike 1 looking, strike 2 swinging, strike 3 looking

There is number thirty on the year

The last call was awful

But I’ll gladly take it, thank God for awful umpires