I was pitching once in a men's league and couldn't find the plate with a map. Had walked in a run and hit two maybe three guys so the other team was getting unruly. We were already down double digits so they just left me out there to soak it up and the inning just went on and on and got worse and worse. Finally in a 3-2 count I threw a curveball (had the best control over it) that broke really well but was still at least half a foot outside and he rung the guy up emphatically, laughed off his protest and stormed off, right past me as I came off the field where he gave me hell under his breath. "I'm dying back there. Find the goddamn plate. YOU OWE ME ONE!!"
I still sucked the next inning but in that moment it was like someone had thrown a drowning man a life preserver and I'll never forget it. Sad times.
