Try out for baseball.

You decide to go out for the baseball team. You spend the rest of the evening in the dorm getting to know your neighbors. They all seem nice enough. You’re especially intrigued by the redhead who lives three doors down, Jane. The evening passes quickly and uneventfully. You excuse yourself early so that you can be well rested for try-outs in the morning.

At 8:00 AM the next day you find your way to the baseball practice field. There’s already a gaggle of guys milling around stretching and tossing balls around. You pick an isolated spot on the field and go through your typical stretching routine. For the next fifteen minutes or so guys continue to pour onto the field. By the time the coach showed up and blew his whistle there were easily over a hundred guys on the field.

“Gather round everyone! I’m only saying this once!” bellowed the coach. “Okay, there are a lot of guys here and we only have a few roster spots, so don’t expect to make the team.” Doubt begins to fill your mind; maybe this won’t be so easy. The coach goes on for another twenty minutes explaining how the try-outs will work.

When he’s said his peace, you’re placed in a group with about 15 other guys, overseen by an assistant coach. The day is a blur. You go through speed, endurance, batting, fielding, catching, and throwing drills. At some point you break for lunch. At 3 P.M. the last few groups finish their remaining drills, and the coaches get back together for some last-minute conferencing. You don’t know how much time passes as you stand gasping for air and wiping sweat and grime from your eyes. Just as your breath returns, so do the coaches.

There’s another consolation speech, and then the coach announces that three of you have made the team. You try to act uninterested, expecting the worst. He gets up and yells out “Jordan Marks!” A lanky black guy looks up and a few guys around him pat his back and give him high fives as he works his way to the coach’s side. The coach shakes his hand and then calls off the next name, “Tim Bower!” A tall muscular guy raises his hand and moves forward. It’s clear that he, like you, doesn’t know anyone here, but a few guys shake his hand as he passes through the crowd. You’re already ready to start heading home when you hear the coach roar out your name.

You look up thinking it has to be a mistake. But there are already guys congratulating you. You turn and move in a daze through the crowd, barely aware of the high-fives, hand-shakes, and back-pats you’re getting. You shake the coach’s hand, and tune-out the speech he makes to the rest of the guys who didn’t make the team. After the crowd has dispersed he turns to you three and congratulates you again, and explains the team’s practice and work-out schedules. He dismisses the three of you and you begin walking back to your place when a guy jogs up beside you.

“Hey great job out there today.” He said smiling and extending a hand. You shake it and thank him. You don’t know him but he was overseeing another group of guys all day. “I’m Chase,” he said. “Chase Boll. I’m the captain of the team this year. I saw you today. I think you’ve got some real potential. After you get washed up, do you want to join my girlfriend and I for dinner?”

You’re tempted to say yes. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad thing to get to be friends with the team captain. But you are also thinking about going back to a gym—you have a feeling you’re going to need to be in great shape to survive the intense schedule the coach just read off. Finally, you are considering about a quiet evening in the dorm, or seeing what Jane is up to.