College

"BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!"

Mid-winter and about a few degrees above zero. My alarm clock breaks the silence with a triumphant polyphonic ring. I give a long look to my screaming clock, staring at it, almost as if it was mystical and mysterious. I was puzzled at what it told me. The number six was steadily flashing. I had an epiphany and asked my self, "What am I doing?"

My weary body felt completely drained of energy, like a wilted flower. While straining to open my crusty eyes, still warm and cozy in my bed, I was overcome with a feeling of lethargy. "Perhaps I should call in sick", coaches do not make players practice when they are under the weather. Despite all my musing, and my bed's magnetic pull, I still manage to rise each morning at this ungodly hour to join baseball practice with the team for training.

Baseball, a sport that requires the fusion of body and mind, strives to maximize physical ability by testing mental tenacity. Everyday represents a new struggle: to beat yesterday's maximum output, an issue of mind over matter. I have known the agony of this conflict since I had decided to try-out for varsity. As convincing as my morning doubts were, I did not give them any attention as I know that all my hard work and fortitude will be beneficial in the end. Dawning the brilliant blue and gold is feeling that cannot be put into words.

Practice would usually consist of a "brisk" two-mile jog around town. When neighbors on my block peer out their window, warm cup of coffee in hand and in a welcoming bathrobe, hear the pattering of twenty pairs of sneakers down the street, they are probably thinking, "Go to bed, it's too early. They must be crazy." As I look back at them, in my soaked T-shirt with a half-empty bottle of water, I think to myself "Blue and gold. Blue and gold. It's all worth it. Blue and gold."

As I take another step forward in the frosty winter, all I can think about was not letting my team down. Some