Gemotions

The weight of the catcher’s mitt in David's hand suddenly felt unbearable. His chest constricted as the coach announced he was being shifted to first base. He, the starting catcher, known for his arm, his control, his understanding of the game’s rhythm. This was a cruel joke, wasn't it?

He swallowed hard, trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat. The infield felt vast and unfamiliar. He imagined himself fumbling easy plays, his teammates yelling in frustration. This was not supposed to happen.

He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the familiar, comforting feel of the catcher's mask. The new position, the new role, the new expectations – all of it felt like being cast adrift in a stormy sea. He had to be dreaming.