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Home » June 2007 Game CommentsJune 2007 » Meditate


Game 69: June 18, 2007
Red Sox 4 L: Curt Schilling (6-4) 44-25, 1 game losing streak
16-6-2 series record
WinBraves 9 W: Chuck James (6-6) 38-33, 1 game winning streak
13-6-4 series record
Highlights: Coco Crisp seemed to reap the benefit of his recent change in stance. Crisp went 4-for-4 and propelled two home runs, one in the second and another in the sixth. Historically Crisp has had more power from the right side, but the tinkering has helped him on both sides of the plate. The center fielder has hits in his last five games, just one shy of his season-high hitting streak.

“Okay, Curt. Breathe deeply with me. Concentrate on just the feeling of the air filling your lungs.” Coco sat peacefully on a yoga mat with legs crossed. His eyes were closed and his face relaxed. Across from him lurched Curt Schilling, legs ungainly attempting to align themselves in the criss-crossed manner Coco so easily assumed.

“Can’t. Get my. Legs like that,” he grunted.

“Focus on your breathing,” the outfielder urged again, opening one eye to observe the awkward angles Curt’s body. “Time. Matters not. The past. Matters not. Live in the present.”

At last the pitcher’s bulk formed in to something vaguely conducive to a meditative state. “Hey! I got it! Look!”

Crisp’s eyes remained shut. “Shhh.... Close your eyes and breathe.”

“Okay, sorry.” It was Schilling’s turn to peek. He lifted his eyelids a crack to ensure he was correctly seated.

“Eyes. Shut.” Barely able to conceal his shocked expression at being caught, Curt abruptly snapped his eyes shut as directed.

Moments passed. Curt was on the verge of slumber, his deeper suspirations indicated to Crisp he had better introduce the next phase of the process before his initiate fell completely asleep. “Curt,” Crisp intoned.

Schilling started at the sound and tried to recollect himself into the correct position. Sopor got the better of him, however.

“Curt, now we will visualize your ultimate goal. For example, I envision myself arcing home runs into the stands.”

“Home runs... into the stands,” echoed Curt blearily.

“Soaring high and deep. Majestic. Deep breaths. ”

“High and deep.”

“Curt, I will count backwards from three. When you hear me say “one,” you will emerge from your meditative state. Three. Two. One.”

Schilling remained still, shoulders hunched.

Coco frowned. “Curt, did you fall asleep?” he asked sharply.

Curt’s head bobbed up and his eyes whipped open. “No, no. I was there, man. Completely meditating.” He tried to win over his mentor with a zestful grin.

The center fielder looked skeptical but was eventually convinced by Curt’s smile. “So, what did you visualize?”

“Oh, man, all sorts of things. Flying over purple mountain majesties. Real heady stuff.”

Looking pleased with his pupil’s progress, Coco reached over and clapped his charge on the shoulder. “Excellent, Curt. We’ll do this again next week?”

“Sure thing, Coco.” His words of agreement were not congruent with the grimaced etched on his face as he tried to uncoil his legs.

“Cool. Good luck on your start tonight.” Crisp leaped from the mat to his legs in a blink.

“Thanks, and good luck with that new stance thing.”

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