The Hitting Zone

After gathering my stuff and packing up, I left the dugout in search of the bathroom with my bag.

"Jake! Where are you going?" Noah's voice came from behind me. I turned in time to see him running towards me while zipping up his bag.

I waited until he caught up then started to walk some more.

"Hey? What's up? You just left the team hanging like that. You didn't even congratulate Kyle! That was so amazing! I didn't think our first high school game would be to witness and be a part of a perfect game. Just wow! Mom and Dad must be super happy."

I didn't know how to answer Noah. It'd be weird to tell him that I just didn't feel like it. During the game I was excited for Kyle, but now I just felt kind of empty. I decided to just keep up the hunt for a bathroom.

Noah prattled on and on about the game and how he was scared of not being able to make that last play. "Man, I was so scared when that ball got past Kyle. I felt like everything was in slow motion. And then I was having an inner panic attack that I didn't throw the ball high enough for you. And your throw! On point!"

Maybe that's why I don't feel so good. I could be having a panic attack. Like a delayed one. Like looking back on that last play is making me sick. I hurriedly looked for the bathroom. Left. Right. A full 360 degree circle. I spotted one in a building between the stands of different fields. I rushed to it

"Hey Jake?! Do you have to go to the bathroom that bad?" Noah spoke to himself, as I was speed walking to the bathroom.

I dodged through the crowd to get to where I needed to be. Somewhere along the way, I lost Noah, but I didn't care. He'd be okay. I wasn't. I immediately entered the bathroom, went straight to a stall, fell to my knees, and threw up.

I emptied out my whole stomach. Everything I had for breakfast, plus the snacks on the way here.

"Jake? Is that you?" Noah sounded to be right out my stall. I gagged in response. "I'm gonna text Dad for help. Hold on."

Like I had a choice.

By the time Mr. Atkins walked in, I had nothing left to throw up. I would just occasionally dry heave.

He spoke with Noah about what happened and Noah said he didn't know. He knocked on the stall door. "Jake? Can you let me in?"

I stayed on my knees, but turned around and unlocked the stall. Then I went back to staring at the toilet water.

"Did you feel sick all morning or was it sudden?" He picked my hat off the ground and put it on my head, backwards. I held up two fingers to indicate the second guess. "Does it have anything to do with the end of the game?"

I nodded. I didn't feel nauseas until the game ended. Then all these 'what if' questions popped into my head. I tried to slow down my breathing. "I could have messed up."

"But you didn't!" Noah said. "You did it! We did it!"

I started to feel sick again.

"Noah. Why don't you get Jake a cold water. And a Gatorade to replenish his electrolytes." Mr. Atkins handed him a few dollars. "The snack bar was just outside."

"Alright..." Noah said slowly and I heard him walk away.

"After the play, were you thinking, 'what would have happened if I messed up the perfect game?'" Mr. Atkins asked.

I nodded, glancing up at him. "They would have been mad."

Mr. Atkins squatted down so he would t be so high above me. "You'll never know that for sure. The chances of that ever coming up again is minuscule. Almost nonexistent. There'll be other plays. New plays. Heck, you could go the rest of the season without having to make the game ending play."

That's true, I guess. The chances of me participating in another perfect game would be astronomical.

"Overthinking something that has already happened, won't change anything. Just let it be, and let it go." He told me. "If you want to talk it out, I'm here to listen. If not, that's okay too. We could also save it for Dr. Moore."

I thought about it. Mr. Atkins was right. It was done with so it was dumb to worry over. But maybe we should talk about it. With the therapist. "I'll save it for Wednesday." I mumbled.

"Great." He stood up. Then lifted me up. "Next time you throw up, don't sit on the bathroom floor. Especially a public bathroom. It's unsanitary."

"I'm back with the drinks!" Noah hollered, almost running into the stall that we were trying to get out of. He looked me over. "Jake, you look super pale. Maybe we should get something to eat to fill you back up."

"Actually He should stick to fluids for right now." Mr. Atkins advised. "Let's get back to your team first. Jake, rinse your mouth out. Then you can start taking small sips of the Gatorade."

I grabbed the water from Noah and went to the sink. I rinsed my mouth quite a few times to get rid of the smell. Then I followed them out while holding the Gatorade. Apparently our team was watching the game after ours, because the winner will be our next opponent this afternoon/evening.