Brandon Belt there is no crying in baseball, even on your birthday.
Take your losses with grace. Step away from the camera. It is Good Friday. Think in perspective.
As children, we are taught to brush it off, walk away and ignore the bully. My parents drilled in us to turn the other cheek.
My usual response to hurt is to cry in private and march on. I recently suffered a betrayal. Someone I deeply love lied and caused harm to me and my children. I forgave. I stupidly furthered my own injury by “being friends.” Then cruelty repeated. Shame on me.
I am no Rookie of the Year, who is batting .192/.300/.269 with a homer, a double and 13 strikeouts in 60 plate appearances. I have everything to be thankful for and much to be forward looking, but I am not twenty-three years old. At this point in my life, I advise Brandon: living in Fresno is the equal to smelling the armpit of the world right now but grin and bear it. Act grateful for the opportunity to serve. This too will pass.
I am back to work. I issued my marching orders to finish my novel first draft, with grace.