Pressure's On

Monster can in hand,
My energy is pulsating,
Everything is planned,
But for me there is no waiting.

A breathe of fresh air,
Man, it feels great,
Pitcher gives me a death stare,
As I approach the plate.

No fear on my face,
Just a smile, I'm grinning,
I enjoy pressure, the taste,
Of the bottom ninth inning.

A few swings of the bat,
And I'm ready to go,
The trick is to relax,
And just let it all flow.

First pitch is a ball,
The Ump screams out strike!
He's lucky, that was a bad call,
And I'm not in the mood for a fight.

The chef of pitching,
A meal ready to serve,
The ball is sent whizzing,
With a delicate curve.

Oh, now he is cooking,
With two strikes to my name,
He caught me looking,
And this might mean the game,

The stadium grows silent,
You can hear a needle drop,
Not sure where all the time went,
But I believe it stopped.

I visualize the pitch,
See the ball creeping towards the plate,
Swing my bat and wish,
That I'm not a second late.

I smack the ball, it stings,
The bat rattles in my clench,
The ball just sprouted wings,
And flew way out past the fence.

The crowd erupts with cheer,
And there's a glimmer in my eye,
You too, can conquer fear,
Just be brave enough to try.