I knew when I threw the pitch that it was going to be really good or incredibly bad.
It ended up being both.
I play to win, you know? I mean, I don’t play for the little leagues, I’m starting pitcher with the Lions, of course, but I play all over during the summer, so long as I got the gas money and my Honda runs. I was playing in Caddo today, playing against some big old bitches from way out in Longview and that pitch came off my hand like a shot and she couldn’t hit it for love or money and, bang, we won the game, but it didn’t matter a bit to me because I was screaming my damn fool head off, something in my shoulder letting go like a snapped rubber band and I knew I was fixin’ to die. Just die, y’all, I swear to God.