Gemotions

"You're going to be our new pitcher, Jake." The baseball coach's words hung in the air. Jake's insides twisted. He felt a cold wash of unease. Pitcher? He was a perfectly adequate outfielder; that's where he wanted to be. He stared at the ground, unable to meet the coach’s eye.

The sun seemed to glare with new intensity, the familiar sounds of the game now distorted and amplified in his ears. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising tide of panic. The mound, usually a distant landmark, now loomed large and imposing.

He felt a sudden, unwelcome tightness in his chest. The thought of facing the batters, the pressure of the count, the possibility of failure, made his legs feel weak. He imagined the ball, the speed, the stakes.