There is a loneliness to the mound
when you start to loose your control
Your breaking ball that refused to break
now sits five rows up in the stands
Now, all of a sudden you cannot throw a strike
having walked the next two batters

The pitching coach has come and gone
reminding you to take a breath and refocus
Your infielders have grown quiet
they know how important this at bat is
The only sound you can hear
is your grunting as you throw each pitch

This will be your last batter
you can tell by the look on Skip’s face
And by sheer force of will
the first two pitches finds the strike zone
Breathing out slowly as you come set
you go into your motion to get the third out