Baseball

 

I had played baseball from about 10 to 15 years old. I don't know that I entirely enjoyed it, but it was one of those things I started and felt I couldn't stop until it was inconvenient, which was around the time I started high school. I can still remember the anxiety of being at the plate. Being a game of failure, I was aware that the odds were against me, but still that moment, when everybody quiets down and waits for the pitcher, was tense. I wanted it to pass as quickly as possible. Ironically, the rest of the game was waiting patiently for that moment, and defending against the occasional success of a batter. It's not an incredibly exciting sport, especially at the younger levels, but it makes for a good, albeit outdone and banal, analogy for the generally monotonous nature of life, broken up by the occasional "peak experience," characterized by anxiety and poor odds.