The WATL Amateur Championships have announced their tournament contenders and it is an impressive bunch. Your ambitious author has received a bye into the second stage. This will be the first National that I have ever competed in. Seems crazy that out of all my years bouncing around different sports I have never taken part in anything larger than a state championship. This will be a first and I love firsts.
Having dreamt about this since I was a kid you can only imagine the intricate training I had in mind to prepare for such a momentus occasion. Hear the rising Rocky music in the background as I blister away the hours killing shots and evaporating the cottonwood into splinters. I would break all my personal records and amaze my friends at League with how far I have come... well... that's not quite how it happened.
All of those plans came to a screeching halt when I got sick. Sick enough to miss three days of work. Then my car needed a brake job and suspension work. Then my mother collapsed. I had to take her to the hospital where she was kept overnight for testing. The next day they transported her to Boston where she underwent minor heart surgery. Don't worry Mom is doing well, she's a tough lady. However, my house of cards was falling apart.
The training never got started. Additional personal problems hindered my Fall League schedule to such a degree that I had some really bad weeks and was forced to miss week seven entirely. These are the realities of daily life and sometimes they hit all at once. Despite these setbacks I was determined to keep my plans. Reserved hotel rooms, bought tickets, fixed my car and decided that this was simply too important to miss.
The few practices I did have were in the dark, literally. I set up an outdoor light so I could throw after the sun went down. I sat in the evening air with my journal taking notes and tying different scoring tactics. I even received advice from a fellow thrower who couldn't make it themselves but wished me well. It was not the dream training I had imagined but it was better than nothing.
James Braddock was a poverty stricken boxer slumming his way through the great depression and begging for food before his unlikely title match. None of the conditions were ideal but the hunger that drove him brought out the best that he had. Hunger doesn't need a montage.
While the hard work of hammering matches never got to materialize, I'm just happy that I still get to attend the championships. It's all a mental game now. I'll go for the experience, throw the very best I can and embrace the fact that my best is always enough. See you there, Alex.
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