There is an end, there is a beginning and then, there is a sweet spot.
It’s not even in the middle. If you take a wooden bat, stare at it and wonder why it is so strong and weak at the same time, you must analyze it as though it were a patient. Where do we start? What portion of this bat is the strongest? What part of this is the weakest? If you really look at the bat, the heart of the bat is the strongest. It sets comfortably in the ever so soft middle where no one except the ball can find it.
The brain rests on top of the bat as though it is a skyscraper, but it can crumble just as easily as a sand castle on any North Continental beach. Shards of bat shrapnel will fly out to fielders when you wish no harm to any of them, but sadly, it comes with the territory.
The bottom of the bat is cruel. Your hands, knees and feet ache because they are confused since it should be such an easy science. It’s not. It breaks your knuckles when swinging too fast or too slow, especially in cold weather. Nothing works except the heart of the bat…. that’s the sweet spot.
The sweet spot is when a ball comes off the bat and you can’t feel a thing but success, happiness and pure love, because you only feel it in your heart. Run your fingers through whipped cream and see if it hurts. It doesn’t. I don’t know of a man who can say it does, but that’s the only way I can describe the feeling of when you hit a ball on the sweet spot.
When all other organs aren’t performing properly, you rely on the heart of the bat and find comfort in its rhythm. You recognize why you don’t always have to swing like a wild man. Sit down. Think. Relax. Breathe. But most importantly, rely on your heart for guidance. The brain is overrated. So are the legs. The best part of a bat and an artichoke is the heart.