"We can stay here get the cr*p kicked out us, or we can fight our way back into the light, we can climb outta h*ll. One inch at a time." The words that I’ve been so used to listening and reciting in my head were now being absorbed like a sponge by my fellow teammates sitting side by side on the dugout bench in front of me. The look of disappointment had already taken over their faces. It was my job as captain of the PEI Scotiabank Reds to get myself, and these athletes back into this gold medal game. Top of the 6th inning, 2 outs and a down score of 3-2 against the Québec Rebelles 98’.

This game was not over yet. At this time, the intensity of the game had made its way into the center of my stomach. The loud roaring of the crowd created a huge wave of cheerful screams that came crashing down onto the field.

Leadoff batter for Team PEI was number 11, Jada Yeo.  On a count of 3 balls and 1 strike, Yeo hit a single straight through third base and short stop. This base hit placed her at first waiting anxiously but with confidence in the next batter, number 13, Brianna Arsenault. Me. It was up to me to determine whether that gold medal would be hung around our necks, or the Québec Rebelles’.

Before walking up to the plate, coach called time. Confused, I looked back at him. He had a few words to say to me. I knew immediately how I was going to walk back up to that plate. Refueled with motivation and prepared for anything.
“Hey kiddo, do what you do best. Go up there and show them how great you are.” Short and sweet. That’s all it took to send me to the batter’s box with a big smile on my face and with every intention to win the game.

I took a deep breath before walking in the batter's box. Left foot in, right foot after. I could feel the rough gravel flatten out underneath my feet. In ready position, the loud roar of the crowd suddenly seemed to have stopped. No cheering from my team either. The only thing I could clearly hear was the sound of the crunching gravel and the light gust of wind hitting the back of my neck. Meanwhile, I must have been too relaxed because everything seemed to go by in slow motion, but next thing you know the ball flew into the catcher's glove and the umpire was yelling "STRIIKE!"

O.K. just breathe and focus. One pitch at a time. I reminded myself while looking down third base line to pick up on my coach’s signs. Back again at the plate, the pitcher gracefully released the 70mph ball. Her arm whipped around so fast it looked like a windmill blade on a windy day. The pitch she had thrown was perfectly down the middle of my strike zone. I immediately did the opposite of what I was taught. I tensed up. Not sure whether to swing or not, I closed my eyes and swung with all my might. I heard the sound of the bat hitting the ball, but not quite the right noise I was working for. Relieved to have at least made contact with the ball, I opened my eyes hoping it ended up somewhere in the left field gap. Unfortunately, the power hit crossed over fair territory and was called a foul ball from the overweight field umpire.

D*mn. O.K. now you know what to do, two strikes on ya Bri. Do what you do. I coached myself. I could hear my mom at this moment with her raspy little voice sitting right behind the back stop shoving motherly words of encouragement through my Easton helmet. “Go my girl! Hit that ball for momma!” It gave me an ear-to-ear smile followed by a little chuckle. Next, I took a peek over to my father, planted on the outside corner of our dugout. Trying to get as close to the field as possible. He was the kind of softball dad that wanted to be right beside you when you played. Eyes glued to me, I met his glare. He had an I'm-waiting-for-a-big-hit look. Thinking about it, everyone cheering for our team had such a heavy amount of confidence in me. If they all believed so much in me, then there was no reason for me not too either.

Now I was hungry for a strike, I planted that left foot in again. Holding my hand up to the umpire telling him to hold on a second, I took an enormous deep breath, smelling the poisonous reek of my sweaty socks and filling my young healthy lungs with the hot muggy air. Looking at the plate, I imagined myself looking down on the diamond shaped field seeing myself rip one out of the park. The image was so vivid, I loved it and I wanted that to happen now.

The pitcher set herself up, and agreed with the sign the catcher had just gave her. The bright yellow ball shot in like lighting. She threw my favourite pitch. High and outside. Thrilled, I swung the bat like a kid trying to bust open a piñata and pounce on the candy spilling out of it. I hit the sweet spot on the bat, the best feeling ever spread through my veins. Adrenaline. As I watched the ball rip through the thick air, the crowd held their breaths. By the time I was half way to first base, the ball had darted out of the park. The hair on the back of my neck seemed as if it was dancing. I couldn't fathom what I had just accomplished. Jada Yeo rounding third looked back at me cheering with her hands up in the air "You did it B!”. Tears glazed over my eyes. Passing second base, I had the chance to look at the fans in the stands. Hats flying up in the air, people hugging each other and cheering. On the home stretch, my family poured out of the dugout to meet me at home plate. They were crowding the base with open arms and high pitch cheers of victory. The fight for the win was over and it was time to claim our gold.

Finally, we were lined up on our respective lines, hearts filled with joy. Next, we were called up name by name for our gold medals. My coach called my name with pride. I walked up to him and he hung the result of hard work around my neck. He shook my sweaty hand firmly and said "You accomplished your goal. There's no greater feeling then that. People are going to be talking about you kiddo. Your career is just beginning. I'm proud to be called your coach. Great work Brianna". Enough with the handshake, I threw my arms around him and tears of joy streamed down my warm cheeks.