1,2,3 Strikes You're Out!
Let's say you're a baseball player of some sort, whether it is professional or just playing around with your backstabbing friends who will all take your girl friends later on. There you are, standing there in the deepest, darkest, corner of right field, merely watching airplanes flying over with those peculiar banners that you can't quite read. You continue to hear a sound that sounds like CRACK, and whizzing sound as something passes right next to your ear and clangs into the chain link fence right behind you. You hear people yelling your name and large amounts of profanity, and someone runs up to you, your friend, Danny and he tells you to catch the "ball" (he must be talking about that white round thing with strange red lines on it) in your glove next time. And soon enough, he calls you in to the strange complex they call a "dugout"
"Thanks to Carl here (let's also assume your name is Carl), the score is eleventy-twelve to zero. We have to score some runs, people!" shouts the man who did most of the swearing while you were out looking at airplanes. Your Teammates" as they're called, are all sitting on the bench, glaring menacingly at you. Mystified by their sour attitudes, you ask: "What did I do?" A sad, sad, mistake.
"What did you do!?! Oh, you only gave up all ELEVENY-TWELVE runs with your gold-glove out their in right field!!! You better pay up by scoring when you're up to bat!!!" yells the Swearing Man, as you have come to call him. Your friends on the bench stop staring at you, instead they stare at the ground with meek faces.
You're in the Hole
So you've taken a seat on the bench next to Danny. You Cheerfully try to start a pleasant conversation, but all you hear out of Danny are strange grunting noises. So, you too sit in silence.
"Carl, you're in the hole."
In the hole? Am I a penis? No! That couldn't be. What could this mean? Am I in serious debt? No, I paid my bills on time. Maybe it means I'm in the hole of life! Eternally damned to Hell! Goodness, no! This isn't right! I'm a good citizen! I've lived a good Christian life!
"It means you're up to bat it 3 batters, doofus."
Wait, Who are you!? Where have you been in this story! You weren't in it at the beginning. Who are you?
"Dude, I'm your, what do you call it? Conciouncious."
Well then, you can leave. I'm perfectly knowledgeable at the rules of Basketbal-- I mean baseball. SO you can leave. Bye, bye, now, Shoo!
"You can't make it without me, dude."
Well I don't care! You should know, you're in my HEAD!
Goodness. I'm glad that's over.
You're On Deck
So you still sit in silence next to Danny, and you hear the familiar sound of CRACK! And you hear groans from your teammates and the two people in the stands on your side of the field.
"Carl, you're on deck, get out there," says the Swearing Man. You don't know what to do. What in the world does "On Deck" mean? So you whisper to Danny, "What does On Deck mean?"
"It means get a bat, put on a helmet, and get out to the warm-up circle," he replies in a snappy tone of voice. How rude, you think to yourself. So you go over, take that plastic headwear thing, and you also grab a bat. You proceed out the dugout to a white circle that you assume was made by a toddler (it was a very poorly drawn circle). There you stand, and your attention is drawn to the man standing on a pile of dirt in the middle of the grass. Standing in an awkward position, he starts making odd movements. A ritual dance? But no, instead he throws the ball - and it appears to be right at the batter! You close your eyes and hear a loud SMACK. Your eyes open. The batter is standing there peacefully. Goodness! That must have been close! How is he not running? you ask yourself. Then the pitcher does the same series of odd movements - quite interesting, really - and again the ball nearly misses the batter. One more time he goes through the routine, and this time the batter swings a large wooden stick similar to the one you're holding and hits the ball on the ground to a man standing coincidentally right where the ball is going. He picks it up, throws it to first, and a man in a blue shirt yell "OUT!". Hmm. How Peculiar.
You continue to stand in the circle (it looks more like a poorly drawn pentagon). "Batter Up!" says the Man in thick padding behind a squatting man also in padding. You continue to stand still.
"Carl! Go up to the batter's box! You're up to bat!" says Danny. The people in the opposite dugout start snickering. And then you approach the "box" (a rectangle, really) and stand in it. There you see the two men in padding. You copy the stance of the man preceding you. And the man on the mound does those weird movements. You stand there shaking in the batters box, awaiting the next thing. What will happen? you ask yourself nervously.
The ball sails in at blazing speed, smacks the glove of the squatting man and the other man in padding behind him yells "STEEERIKE!".
Oh, goodness. What did that mean? I hope it's good, or I'm in for it!
"It's good for the other team, not you."
Hey! I told you to leave! And what do you do? Come back! Typical, typical.
"Hey, next time the ball comes in, swing the bat and hit the ball, dude."
I told you I don't need your advice! Now go away and leave me in peace. The man on the mound is about to start dancing again.
"Dude, that's called the windup. And you need to hit the ball with the bat or coach will yell at you more."
You mean the Swearing Man? Goodness! I better hit the Ball! I hate it when he's mad! Oh, man! I'm in for it now!
"So do me a favor and hit the ball."
Alright, I'll try. And by the way, LEAVE ME ALONE!
Lucky for you, that conversation stopped right as the man on the mound starts his dance.
Here he goes again, you think. And then the dance begins. Step, step, load, throw! ZZZIIIIIPP! You swung the bat, but to no avail. You missed the ball by about two feet. Once again you hear snickering from the opposing dugout and you see the man on the mound smiling and shaking his head.
What's so funny? What did I do? you think. Well, if I hit it this time, I'll avoid another Tongue-lashing from the swearing man. Well, I better hit it now! Prove these jokers wrong and be the hero of the game. Ohh, I'll get that hit coach! I’ll save the game from the clutches of these goons! Yeah! Let's hit this ball, Carl! You can do it! FOR YOUR TEAM AND YOUR CONCIOUNCIOUS, HERE GOES NOTHING!
Wow! I'm glad I didn't swing there! It nearly hit my head! What's wrong with this guy! Is he trying to kill Me?
You go back into the batters box after nearly falling over. you go back into your stance, awaiting the next pitch.
Come on, give me a pitch I can hit! I want to give honor to my family name, and I want to make my mum proud!
The pitcher starts his dance...
Oh! I almost got it! Take that! Now, give me another one!
"STEEEEERIKE THREEE, YOU'RE OUT-A-THERE!"
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" you say back.
"It means you struck out and you have to go back to the dugout. For Pete’s sake! This is the MLB!" yell's the umpire.
And so you walk back to the dugout, everyone with a glum look on their face. And the coach was waiting.
"WHY YOU FILTHY SON-OF-A-BITCH! YOU CAN"T EVEN HIT THE BALL TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR NINETEEN ERRORS ON THE FIELD! YOU SUCK!!!!"
And so you go, back to the deepest, darkest corner of right field, and this time, you pay attention.