As I walked up to the plate my senses heightened. I heard every cheer from the crowd, I saw each and every player in the field, and I felt every grain of softball dirt under my cleats. I was practicing my swing my ears began to muffle out the sound of the crowd's cheering and focus on another sound, the other team's coach's voice. "This is the one who hit it outta the park last time we played 'em," I stepped up to the plate filled with pride because someone besides my family and friends noticed my accomplishment. WHOOSH! The ball went by way too high. Ball one. I stepped back looked for my coaches signs as I listened to the rest of the other coaches' conversations.

"Do you think she could do it again?" the assistant coach asked never taking his eyes off of me and my swing. I stepped back to the plate. A little low but in the strike zone. Strike one. The count was 1-1. I stepped back again and took another swing but I wasn't focused on my swing I was focused on what the head coach would say back in response and then I heard him speak up.

"Not a chance," the head coach stated with a hearty chuckle. Three words. Three words that would soon haunt me every time I got back up to the plate. Three words that shook me up. Three words that made me loose focus.

The next pitch that came, was too inside and I was too distracted. The ball slammed into my elbow and pain surged up through my whole arm. A second later I was on first base and I was very upset. Everyone thought that I was upset because I got hit with the ball. I tried to believe that too but honestly, I was just upset because I did exactly what those two coaches wanted me to do. They wanted me to fail. And that's exactly what I did. I failed because of those three words that will circle in my mind forever.