*Names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent, the guilty, and especially the embarrassed. Any resemblance to actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
Imagine this: It’s a typical scorching day at Dunbar High School where we’re playing in a USSSA round robin. The diamond is alive with the sound of cheers and the sharp crack of baseballs hitting bats. Our boys are up, and Taylor, our starting pitcher, is on the mound, ready to dominate. But today, his magic seems a bit off. Strike zone? More like the twilight zone, as each pitch misses its mark. The crowd senses the shift; the tension is thick.
From my spot in the bleachers, right behind home plate, I watch as Taylor’s confidence starts to wobble. His usual steady rhythm falters, and with each pitch, his shoulders slump a little more. That’s when Mr. Fenwick, Taylor’s dad, decides it’s time to step in.
"Trust the D, son! Trust the D!" he yells, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd. It’s a phrase steeped in team lore, a call to remember the strength of the defense behind him. A reminder that baseball is a team sport, and he’s not out there alone.
As the words echo across the field, Taylor takes a moment. He steps off the mound, takes a deep breath, and nods in his dad’s direction. It’s subtle, but there’s a shift. When he toes the rubber again, he’s transformed. The pitches start to hit their mark, smooth and fast, each one a little echo of "Trust the D."
The innings roll by, and Taylor’s performance turns stellar. Groundouts, flyouts—the defense backs him up flawlessly. By the game’s end, not only has Taylor regained his form, but "Trust the D" has woven itself into the fabric of the team spirit.
And now, every time we see that "Trust the D" shirt, we don’t just see a slogan. We see a reminder of that day when Taylor found his groove again, all thanks to a few timely words from Mr. Fenwick. It’s a story of belief, of family, and of baseball—the perfect blend for our Diamond Drip collection.