The ball is already coming. It's fast, and it's leaving a red trail behind it. He has maybe half a second. His uniform is stained. The ground under him is wet and red. The sky looks like it's about to break open. And around his bat there is a white snake, wrapped tight, mouth open, right next to his hands. Most people would drop it. He doesn't. He holds the bat harder and gets ready to swing. Behind him the stadium is dark and full. The lights are on. There's a crown on the scoreboard, and birds are circling above like they're waiting to see how this ends. He can't pick a better moment. He can't ask for a cleaner bat. This is the pitch he got. Why I Made This: I think everyone gets a moment like this. The one chance comes, and it comes at the worst time. You're tired, you're already hurt, and the thing in your hands is not safe. For me the snake is fear. It's also doubt, and every person who said I couldn't do it. I used to think I had to get rid of all that first, and then I could take my shot. But it doesn't work like that. The fear never leaves the bat. You just have to swing with it still there. I painted him before the hit on purpose. We don't know if he makes it. That's not the point. The point is he didn't let go. The crown is on the scoreboard, not on his head. Nobody gives it to you. You have to swing for it. This is for anyone who's scared right now and doing it anyway.