When I was fifteen years old, I went about my life like any regular fifteen year old boy. I went to school, played baseball, and hung out with my friends. Life was pretty simple and, dare I say, easy. I was cruising. In both baseball and life, I was living off the fastball. In baseball, a fastball is much easier to hit than any offspeed pitch, such as a curveball, because it does not move. While fastballs move at a higher rate of speed, the lack of movement makes it remain easier to hit, despite the speed. Life had been throwing me fastballs for a while, and I began to feel as if it didn’t have an offspeed pitch in its arsenal. However, that would all change in the blink of an eye. 

One day, my parents called all of the kids in our family into the living room. My siblings and I looked at each other in confusion. We all wondered what was going on. Then, my father broke the silence.

“Kids, we have some bad news. Your grandmother has passed,” said my dad remorsefully.

A little bit over a year earlier, my grandmother had been diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. ALS is a condition that causes the body to lose its function, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. I was heartbroken. I had struck out. After an extended period of time seeing fastballs, I was not prepared for the offspeed, and life had just thrown me a curveball. I helplessly swung at the pitch as it curved away from me and dropped out of the strike zone. It was strike three, and my at bat abruptly ended. 

After receiving this devastating news, I was in a slump. No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to get a hit. Life figured out that I could not hit the curveball, and I never saw another fastball again. It became too easy for the pitcher. I would go up to the plate, swing and miss on three curveballs, and return to the dugout. I could not hit the curveball to save my life. I spent each day hoping and praying for a fastball. All I wanted was for life to throw me a fastball over the heart of the plate. That was all I needed to get back on track and out of this slump. However, in both baseball and life, if you show that you can’t hit the curveball, you will never be given another fastball. You need to prove that you can handle the curveballs that life throws at you in order to be gifted a fastball. 

Eventually, I realized that I needed to make a change. One way or another, I needed to fight off the curveball. In baseball, there are a few ways to deal with a curveball. You can lay off of it, or not swing at it in hopes of it being a ball, and gamble on the pitcher eventually being forced to throw you a fastball. In the real world, this is equivalent to ignoring the problems that you face and going on with your life. This was the first method that I tried, however life proved to be a phenomenal breaking ball pitcher. No matter how many curveballs I watched go by me, it was always a strike. I quickly decided that I would need to try a different strategy to find success. 

Another way to deal with the curveball is to fight it off and extend the at bat. This means that you do whatever you can to get the bat on the ball and hit it foul. You do this to try and have a long at bat where the pitcher will have no choice but to eventually throw a fastball. Since this tactic is harder than the first, it took me a little longer to learn. This method requires you to acknowledge the problem. However, you suppress the issue deep down inside of you and try to hide it. Despite fouling off countless pitches over time, each one would simply be followed by another breaking ball. Unfortunately, fighting off the curve proved unsuccessful. I was disappointed. This is normally a rather trustworthy method, but my opponent was too stubborn. Against my wishes, there was no way to go around the problem. I was going to have to face it head on. I needed to learn to hit the curveball.

Determined to break my slump, I got to work. I focused more on the positive things in my life rather than focussing on the negatives. Nothing would stop me. I was going to hit that curveball. I had been losing the game to life’s pitching for too long. I decided that enough was enough. Now, it was personal. I entered a deep, dark place that I like to call “the grind.” For weeks, I put my head down and worked my tail off. I put in the time preparing for the most crucial at bat of my life. However, it would happen a great distance from the baseball field. 

After countless hours of practice, I finally figured it out. Just like in the batter’s box, hitting an offspeed pitch is all about patience. On the field, you must sit back and wait for the pitch to get deep in your hitting zone or else you will be out in front of it, consequently causing you to swing and miss. Off the baseball field, when life throws you a curveball, you have to sit back on it. In a more literal sense, you must be patient and stay focused on the goal in mind. No matter how bleak things may be looking, it is important to remain positive and wait for your moment to strike. If you are patient enough and strike at the right moment, you can do some real damage both on and off the field. 

Finally, it was time for my duel with life. I walked up to the plate staring the pitcher dead in the eyes. He glared back, but I did not break. Contrary to past at bats, I would not be intimidated. When I got to the plate, I dug into the box, right foot first. Then, I tap the plate with my bat, then my left foot too. After one big loop of my bat towards the pitcher, I was ready to go. The pitcher looks in for his sign. He shakes his head once, twice, and finally he nods his head yes. It was finally time to go. Normally, my mind would be racing at this point. Thoughts of panic about the curveball would race through my head. Not this time. Today my head was clear. I was ready for whatever life threw my way, and nothing would get in the way of breaking my slump. He came set. Here comes the pitch. Just as I expected, a big looping curveball came flying at me. I watched it as it bounces in the dirt. Ball one. I would not be fooled this time. The pitcher gets the ball back from the catcher and gets ready to go again.

“0 and one!” Shouts the umpire.

The next pitch was now on its way. I recognized it early out of his hand, another curveball. CRACK! The sound of my wood bat making contact with the baseball filled the air. I looked up to see the ball flying over the heads of the infielders. 

“A drive to deep left field! The left fielder goes back, at the track, at the wall, it’s outta here!” Yells the announcer.

I had done it. Not only had I finally hit the curveball, but it was a homerun. I finally defeated life and the nasty curves that had been thrown my way. I had broken my slump. From that day forward, fastballs returned to my life. I proved I could handle whatever life throws at me and was rewarded with the luxury of the fastball. Life still threw me many curveballs, but now I was prepared for them. You never stop getting curveballs thrown at you, but you learn from your mistakes and grow as both a player and a person. I had learned how to hit the curveball in a way that didn’t even involve a baseball. The only way to hit it is to face it head on rather than running from it. With the knowledge I had acquired through my journey, I could finally hit the curveball.