I tried to think back to everything that happened to lead up to the gauntlet that is today. I felt the cold wipe on my arm. I remember reluctantly staring at the wall, trying to distract myself. 

“1,2,3,” the nurse counted as she forced the needle into my arm.

 It was only a brisk pinch of pain but it didn’t take long to feel the dull ache set in. I guess I should’ve thought ahead because I had no idea what I was going to have to overcome, resisting the effects of the vaccine. The nurse said the same thing she probably said to every teen that day. A little sickness and some ache, but I’d be okay because I was a trooper. I’m sure she’d understand that even troopers need a break on 90 degree days. I guess it was supposed to be comforting but I couldn’t help but feel like it was a little patronizing. We had to wait a bit just in case something happens like an allergic reaction, I would take an excuse like that right about now.

I had worked out that day, so I didn’t think much of the aching. Of course, now, I would kill to get nothing but some muscle soreness, I didn’t think it would get this bad. The real challenge hadn’t come but I remember when it started, seeing my mom look at her phone with some dreaded disappointment on her face. 

“I totally forgot about your doubleheader tomorrow.” She said after reading through what she was looking at. 

“Well that’s fine can’t I just stay out of that one ‘cause I might feel pretty bad tomorrow,” I said, nonchalant. It’s nothing I hadn’t done before, 

“There’s not enough players, the games won’t happen if you don’t show up.” She responds clearly, going for a witty response, copying my tone. A sheet of dread, like a sudden downpour, hit me as I realized the struggle I would face. 

“I’m gonna be sick!” I tried to find something, anything that would get me out of it, but my mind came up blank. If only I could’ve figured out something to avoid it. 

“You’ll be fine buddy, we'll get you some ibuprofen and it’ll turn out fine. Don’t let down your team.” My mom argued. 

I kept feeling those words resonating in my head all night as I tried to sleep. Maybe it was the shot making me feel bad but I felt the active banging ping of the words bouncing from one side of my skull to the other. The ache was either my immune system or my head playing tricks on me and either way I was annoyed with myself. 

    In the morning, I sulked up with an alarming headache, screeching at me. GET UP! WAKE UP! I could feel my headache yelling to me, exploding in my head. Was I delusional? I took some ibuprofen, maybe it helped, maybe not.

When we arrived at the field, it was hard to distract myself from the blazing heat. 90 degrees! I felt like I was already getting heat stroke too, thanks to my near fever and thick pants. 

“Glad to have you here Jonathan,” my coach yelled, half focused on talking to players, half focused on warming up our first pitcher. Right across the field was the opposing pitcher, throwing gas down to his catcher, so it already wasn’t looking good.

 “Alright everybody get on the field let's warm up,” Our coach yelled.

 I was put at second for warm up, Everything went smooth, apart from aching and being at least 500 feet from any shade. I fielded the ball but when I went to throw I felt a sharp pain in my elbow and straight back to a dull buzzing pain. I messed up the throw. This is going to be awful, I thought to myself again. At least it went far because it was completely off into the woods and I looked confused as everyone else. 

    So far, I’ve at least succeeded in making my team look bad, myself look bad, and feel bad as well, I thought to myself, still trying to remember everything up to now. I had survived the fielding, gotten out of some playing, and even refrained from passing out but It was almost time for me to bat, hitting first of the inning, with the pitcher from the start of the game up and throwing heat straight through home plate. Strike, strike, strike, I thought to myself as I watched him pitch to his catcher. I felt like I was stepping up to a firing squad. If I got hit, this neutral, unstopping pain would become so hot and painful that I can’t imagine. 

    I imagine myself swinging light and sure. Running the bases still light on my feet and hitting a double. I won’t. There’s no lightness in me if I swing it will most likely be clumsy and tasking. I wish I could make this easier. It's never this hard, I think. What did I do to deserve this? I pick up my bat to make sure and of course there's that ache in every joint of my body. It’s like my whole body just decided it had tinnitus. The bat is so heavy and I know if I go to hit it won’t be easy to touch this ball. 

“Batter up!!” The ump impatiently calls as I realize this is the second time he’s called me up. I shoot up, the pain shooting in my legs like it forgot it was supposed to be bothering me. I try to jog to the box, setting up my bat tapping it on the plate. I don’t feel any motivation but I stare down the pitcher all the same. I see him see the tiredness in my eyes. I picture him feeling good, feeling like this’ll be easy. I could use some of that right now. He winds up and shoots one right down the middle. I didn’t have time to swing. 

“Strike one” Time for pitch number two, I have to do this. I step out for a second and practice my swing, ignoring my urge to lay down. Then suddenly, 

“Man up Jonathan, you got this,” my coach calls out.

 He’s right, I’ve swung before and I’ve hit before. I just gotta power through and say screw you to my achy joints. I swear I feel something lighten. I feel faster and the bat doesn’t seem too heavy. I step up to the box feeling better. As the pitcher winds up for his pitch and throws something wild right at me like he’s trying to take me out. I jump a little and manage to dodge it, surprised I was able to move that fast right now. 

“Ball,” the ump calls.

 I could use a good one. The wind up, the pitcher leans down the mound extending his arm like he’s trying to get a high five from me. Everything slows and I see the ball going right to the center of the plate. I start my swing, hearing power through over and over in my head. BAM! 

I can feel the beautiful feeling of the bat like a trampoline taking the full impact of the ball and me not feeling the hit at all. It was a solid hit and I saw it fly past shortstop. I run as fast as I can ignoring my body telling me to stop. 

    I run to first and slide my way into second. Pushing every limb isn't so tasking and it feels natural to run again. It’s like I’m shedding some hot, sick, achy layer from my body. The pain is still there, but I’m refusing to fall for it. My next teammate hits a ground ball I don’t need to see. I just hear the crack of the bat and the loose crunch of the ball hitting the dirt with velocity. It goes through the second baseman’s legs. I got third. As I realize the pitcher forgot to check around and throws a wild ball into the backstop. The only thing I hear is somebody yelling “GO!!!” As I make a beeline to home. I get a clean slide into home and steal us a run. Well that wasn’t so hard, I think. I sit down in the dugout, my team finally feeling pumped. As we progressed into the second game the whole team felt better. All the tiredness had floated away and we all had a newfound energy. We all chanted and cheered and won the second game. I couldn’t help but feel proud I had helped and didn’t let down my team. I powered through, and it’s hard for me to succumb to the tiredness even at home, I’m still pumped full of adrenaline. 

The energy had finally worn off by the time I was in my bed and I felt just like every other guy that was getting over the shot, but I still feel like there's a piece of that energy and pride still in me. I’ll always feel a little lighter with my coach's words in my head, Man up Jonathan, you got this. I don’t think I’ll ever lose that bit of energy and I’m glad to have it in me today. I’ll never forget that sometimes if you just man up a little, push through, and loosen up, it’ll be okay.