I am the lead-off batter

Faith is no sign of weakness.

It's not easy having your own dad as your coach. I didn't want to be the lead-off batter. My Dad wouldn't listen to me. He was making the lineup. He said I was the perfect lead-off batter. But I wasn't confident about myself like my Dad was about me.

It was game time. I was scared that I would strike out before I came up to the plate. Dad was giving me last minute instructions. He told me to wait for the pitch in the middle of the strike zone. "It has to be a really good pitch," he said. I knew what a really good pitch looked like. Dad had taught me the strike zone the best way he could. But I was so nervous being the first one at bat. At that moment I was not sure what a really good pitch looked like.

I came up to the plate. I reached out for the outside corner with my bat. I drew circles in the air. I was ready. The windup. The pitch. "Strike one!" It was a fast ball to the outside corner. I didn't have a chance.

"All right! All right!" Dad said. "You see that same pitch, rip it!" I nodded. I knew two strike pitches. That one the pitcher just threw and the one I was waiting for.

I reached out for the outside corner of the plate. I drew circles in the air. I was ready. The pitch.  It was in the middle of the plate but that was the first time I'd seen it. I forced my swing. "Strike two!" The strike zone just got bigger. But I'd got a feeling for the ball and the strike zone; and a picture in my head. I was nervous but I was confident.

"See the ball! Let it come to you!" Dad said. I nodded.

I reached out for the outside corner of the plate.  I drew circles in the air with my bat. The pitch. It looked so mean yet so good. "Conk!" I put my bat on the ball. Grounder. To the shortstop. The throw. Just late. I beat the ball. I was on base. I hear the cheers.

Later, I stole second . . . then third. I scored the first run. I was having fun. . .   . . .We won the game.

"Why am I the perfect lead-off batter?" I asked Dad on our way home.
"You're a very good hitter." He bent down with his legs, cupped my face and looked into my eyes. "You're fast. You can get on base a lot of times. The team can get a run right away when you get on base. So you're the perfect lead-off batter." He looked at me with eyes smiling. He kissed my forehead. He hugged my head. I was feeling good as we walked to the car.

My Dad believed in me. What I didn't know was that I believed in my Dad. I followed his instructions. I was actually believing in him that everything will turn out for the better. My Dad put his faith in me and at the same time I had my faith in him. Following him was not a sign of weakness but a sign of faith. And faith is no sign of weakness.