being benched.”
Isaac liked playing sports, but never took them seriously.
In fact, he could never apply himself to anything, whether it be
sports, academics, or his love life. He is known to take half-measures and half-ass everything he does.
Clang!
aged to hit a double and situated himself on second base. Isaac had
advanced to third. Isaac lazily looked at the scoreboard.
“Two—three. . . 9th inning . . . two outs,” Isaac muttered.
His team trailed by one point, and thanks to the two players
He looked at the sky again. The clouds were moving faster now,
though there was no wind. Faint traces of the moon could be seen
through the clouds and Isaac smiled.
“Next up to bat . . . all the way from Colorado State Uniwith cheers from Colorado fans and jeers from all the others.
his coach, who was signaling Isaac by touching various parts of his
upper body with seamless repetition. When he stopped, the message was clear to Isaac: Swing away. Isaac thought as he readied
himself. The coach made incoherent signs when he left the decision to the players.
come.
You’re gonna fail, you know, Isaac thought to himself. The
“Strike one!”
Shit. The ball was directly over the center of the plate, a
pitch that had “Hit me” written all over it. Doubt surfaced in Isaac.
He had never had this feeling of imminent failure before. Even
though he half-assed everything, everything always took a good
turn for him. His focus slipped. His thoughts became wild and
self-debasing.
You’ll never win, Isaac thought. You suck. Why even try?
[41]
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