A Journey With Cerebral Palsy

I love the game of baseball. Other than enjoying golf as a kid, baseball was the sport I remember from childhood. Warm summer evenings would be spent going to watch the Mariners in Seattle. The only bummer being, we would walk inside the Kingdom to watch them play a game known for being played in the sun. But watching the Mariners play inside that concrete palace was the birthplace of my enjoyment. Way up in the 300 level on the summer weekends, that’s where you could find me. Those evenings led to whiffle ball games in the backyard and watching baseball on television. In having cerebral palsy, playing little league really wasn’t in the cards. I played a year of t-ball but didn’t go any further. Attempting to catch and hit a quickly traveling baseball wasn’t a good recipe for someone with slow reaction times. My fill of baseball came in the backyard whiffle ball games, which were later played using a tennis ball. Up until meeting the trainer years ago and training inside the first FM sports location. I had only hit inside of a batting cage once or twice, in my life. It was a rare experience for me to attempt hitting an actual baseball. When I stepped into the batting cage last week, at the second rendition of FM sports, it was probably the fifth time, I had stepped into a batting cage. I could feel the nervous anticipation running through my body.

There has always been a fear of the baseball inside my bones. The quickly moving object was incredibly challenging for me react to. Whether thinking about catching a thrown baseball or hitting a pitch. Cerebral palsy slowed my reaction times to the point where playing was impossible. I can remember making a couple of attempts at catching a baseball thrown to me, with some velocity. When the ball would start flying quickly, in my direction, my body always seemed to freeze. In those moments when my hope would be to calmly place my glove into position to catch the baseball. I learned my body didn’t have the time it needed to execute such a movement. When a baseball rapidly moved in my direction, fear was the most recognizable emotion. My body would become extremely rigid. The only place my glove seemed to move was to shield my face, as it turned away from the ball, and my body folded toward the ground. I learned my slow reaction time wasn’t a great experience for me, internally. On the other hand, when I was growing up, we used to play baseball, with a tennis ball. When a tennis ball would travel toward me, I felt much less fearful. Knowing the ball had a much more forgiving surface, I was less worried about the consequences of getting plunked with a tennis ball. My fear of the baseball though, would creep up in the batting cage.

Not until years after those neighborhood baseball games with the tennis ball. Would I find myself inside a batting cage. My first experience would come at a multigame complex. Where batting cages were just one of the many attractions. I got into the cage with a batting helmet on and made sure to begin with a slower speed pitch. Even with the pitching machine turned down, I remember the startling feeling of a real baseball moving in my direction. It would take watching a couple of the pitches pass me by before I stepped in closer. I took my first couple of swings without connection. Darkness had fallen on the outdoor cages and the lighting gave that first experience a cool feeling. After a couple more misses, my timing finally became acceptable. When I finally connected with a real baseball for the first time, the feeling was exciting. I managed to connect with a few more pitches, as the time inside the cage suddenly started slipping away with excitement. My emotions can take me right back to those moments of hitting a baseball for the first time. Being surrounded by lights, I can still feel the coolness in the air. It would be years before having the opportunity to climb inside a hitting cage, again. I remember being ecstatic about finding the ability to hit the baseball that evening. Even with the challenges of cerebral palsy and having to slow down the pitching machine. I had done something that didn’t feel doable. The accomplishment felt awesome and drew me into the game, even more. 

I had been inside a couple batting cages since that first memorable experience. Yet, nothing has been as memorable as hitting a baseball on that crisp night. Even with the few hitting experiences under my belt, I was apprehensive walking through the netting. All the sudden, it felt like the overhead lights got a little brighter.  I found the choice of two baseball bats sitting beside the mat, indicating the Homeplate area. Choosing the one that looked to be the lighter of the two. I picked up the dark colored bat and stepped to the right side of Homeplate. Other patrons of the gym went about their training sessions, outside the boundary of the cage. Their glances of curiosity could be felt when I stepped into the batters’ box, outlined in white stripping. The few people going about their workout in the gym, distracted me from thinking about the camera fixed on my position. The pitching machine being used had to be manually fed. The trainer would hold the ball directly above his head. Then, moving his hand downward, he would place the baseball into the feeder of the pitching machine. Probably less than a second after dropping the ball into the feeder. The baseball came flying toward the plate and the netting behind the mat, indicating the Homeplate area. My nervous energy was heightened, as I stood a step or two out of the way, watching the first couple pitches cross the plate. Hoping to calm my anxiety before stepping closer and attempting to connect with a pitch.

Watching the first couple pitches cross the plate left me feeling more confident. The baseballs seemed to travel along the same line. From just outside the batters’ box, the pitch speed didn’t appear overwhelming. In watching the first couple baseballs, I could feel my anxiety begin to dissipate. Without worry of the wayward pitch sneaking up on me, something I might have trouble reacting to. I took a couple more practice swings and moved in closer. When I climbed into the box, nudging my feet closer to the plate, painted onto the mat. I peered out toward the pitching machine, which looked to be a little off center, to my left. When I watched the first ball moving toward Homeplate, it appeared to turn ever so slightly. Moving from my left to my right, as it approached. Seeming to arrive at a height, somewhere between my knees and my belt. With each pitch, the trainer would show the baseball, before placing it into the feeder. I began swinging at each of the pitches, trying to make contact. The baseballs felt like they were hurling out of the pitching machine at a faster speed, than I could handle. I made a handful of swings on the baseball but continued coming up empty. The trainer suggested I start my swing earlier, but still not luck in making contact. Then came the idea of switching to the lighter bat, and what felt like a reduction in the pitch speed. The last two ideas lined up with my bingo card and I started making contact. The first few amounted to softly struck foul balls, sliding off the side of the bat. Even so, there was immense satisfaction in finding the ability to hit a baseball.

Once my bat started contacting the baseball, the fun began. Getting the baseball squared up on the bat, remained a challenge. Many of my batted balls were hit softly and ran into the netting, on one side or the other. However, as I became more and more comfortable, I was able to start making adjustments. Finding that I was taking too much of a step into the swing. I was losing the balance inside my baseball swing. When I placed my lead foot down on the mat quicker, my swing had better stability. Allowing me to make better contact with the pitch. Of course, this gem of information was found during the later minutes of my hitting. With all the excitement of having the opportunity to do this cool activity, I ran out of gas, quickly. Trying to figure out how to hit a baseball. By the time I stepped into the batting cage for my final round of hitting, I was pooped. I took a couple of swings and could feel the mounting fatigue. The trainer was continuing to reach for baseball when I stepped back, motioning a signal that I was done. The next minutes were spent moving about the batting cage, picking up the baseballs, scattered in all directions. We filled the basket of balls back to its top, ready for the next athlete to try their hand. Moving out through the netting of the cage, I felt excited about my ability to hit the baseball. Along with finding the small adjustment with my front foot, to help myself as the hitting session progressed. 

When the hitting of baseballs had finished, I was interested in statistics. One of the unique features of hitting at FM sports was the statistical information. An object sat in the middle of the batting cage. Siting on the turf, directly under where the pitch would travel toward the plate. The sensor was able to produce numbers on the pitch speed. It also gave on statistical information on the pitches that were hit back into the cage. There is a huge television screen on the wall of the gym and the screen showed the numbers of each pitch. I chose not to pay much attention to those numbers, as my main objective was trying to make contact. However, after I got done hitting, there was one number of curiosity. I wondered the speed of the pitches I was attempting to hit. When we looked after the last baseball came across the plate, the speed was found to be 55 MPH, on each pitch. The speed struck me, as being pretty solid. I knew the pitches would have to be slowed down for me to make contact. My reaction times with cerebral palsy just aren’t quick enough for a high-speed pitch. So, I was happy with my ability at those speeds. In gaining more information, as the hitting session came to a close. I realized the baseballs we used, were rubber. Meaning there was a softness to them, not found in a regulation baseball. Even if they had made contact with my body, there wouldn’t have been much damage. Leaving me to feel like there really wasn’t anything to be scared of inside the batting cage. 

Working in the batting cage added another dimension to the training session. Adding a unique wrinkle to working out, which could sometimes use, another wrinkle or two. Even better when the unique exercise is something so enjoyable. I loved the challenge of working inside the cage last week. Combining a game, I have always enjoyed, with challenging my physical movements, hampered by cerebral palsy. The batting cage not only challenged my ability to swing a bat, while maintaining balance, it also challenged my hand-eye coordination. The challenging of my hand-eye coordination has been something particularly fascination to me, along my journey with CP. The reason being my challenges with my hand movements have often been the most frustrating aspect of experiencing my disability. I’m always looking for ways of making improvements to that aspect of my daily life. When I get to work on my coordination doing something fun, like trying to hit a baseball, play golf, or even ski in the winter. These are the times bringing me some of the most fun. I’m always thankful for the opportunity and guidance to take head on, the challenges of cerebral palsy. The day after hitting inside the batting cage, I found something to be interesting. With my joy of writing and producing this blog, I’m often paying attention to the number of words I write, in a given day. On that following Saturday, I wrote the most words I ever have, in one day. Leading me to conclude the positive impact hitting had on my coordinated movements.