Uncredible - The Book (Sample 4)
Chapter 1
The following is an excerpt from a short e-book I’m currently working on called, “Uncredible — The Book: The Art of Becoming Nobody.” In the future, content like this will be reserved for paid subscribers but, for now, please enjoy!
“Everybody move in. Easy out here!”
Once again, I was picked second- or third-to-last in gym class.
High school was nearing its end, and gym class hadn’t changed much. The same kids still picked teams. My friends and I had been labeled dorks, geeks, nerds, or losers since elementary school. Naturally, we were picked last every time—unless the gym teacher chose us as team captains because he felt bad watching it happen over and over again.
Gym class that day was softball. The period was almost over. I was batting near the end because all the “good” hitters had already taken their turns. The hope was that if I batted last, class might end before I had a chance to lose the game for the team.
The pitcher called for the outfielders to move in, expecting that once again I would strike out or hit an easy pop-up.
Inside, I could feel myself getting angry.
They don’t realize I could knock this thing out of the park.
Then self-doubt charged in right behind it.
Yeah, but that’s only if you hit the ball.
The first pitch came, and I swung with all my anger, frustration, and self-doubt.
“STRIKE ONE!” the gym teacher yelled.
The pitcher chuckled and waved the outfielders even closer.
My frustration built, and I heard a voice behind me.
“Come on, Jeremy. Keep your eye on the ball.”
The gym teacher was trying to coach me. I could tell he wanted me to smoke that ball as badly as I wanted to. I could hear it in his voice. He was in my corner—hopeful, but doubtful at the same time.
It was almost as if he wanted me to teach them a lesson for him. Like he understood what it felt like to be the unathletic kid. The uncool kid.
“STRIKE TWO!”
I didn’t even swing.
I was so lost in my own head that I never saw the second pitch blow by me.
My thoughts started swirling again.
It’s literally just gym class. Nobody cares. You graduate soon. Nobody will ever know about this moment except you.
“Here, I’ll give you an easy one.”
The pitcher, mocking me, derailed my train of thought.
He lofted the ball slow and high, just as promised.
An easy one.
As the ball floated toward me, a thought shot through my mind like lightning.
I will remember this, even if nobody else does.
I tightened my grip and swung the bat with all the might of an unathletic, nerdy kid.
CRACK!
The ball soared over the outfielders’ heads, and I took off running.
Another one of my “dork” friends was on second base, and we sprinted around the bases while the outfielders chased down the ball.
It was too late.
We rounded the bases and won the game for our team.
“Alright boys, head in and get changed,” the gym teacher called out.
I’ll never forget what happened next.
We were all seniors. Most of us had been in school together since third or fourth grade. The pitcher walked over to me, and in a rare moment of maturity, said:
“Great hit, Brian.”
Brian?
I didn’t correct him.
I recognized that this congratulatory statement came from a place of sincerity. He was getting older. He was learning that picking on kids wasn’t right. In his own awkward way, he was trying to say, Sorry. Good job. I didn’t mean anything by it.
I understand that.
What I never forgot was the realization that he had no idea who I even was.
After more than a decade of going to school together, this guy didn’t know my first name.
I had spent years feeling underestimated.
Years feeling overlooked.
Years trying to prove myself.
And in that moment, I realized something far worse than being disliked.
I was invisible.
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Music for voice over by Jeremusic70 on Pixabay.