When I was in high school, I was a pretty good baseball player. We had an away game on a Tuesday my senior year, and we were playing a Catholic school with a pitcher whose arm had rapidly become legendary. Our players were whispering about it on the bus – how fast he threw, the no-hitter the last game he pitched, how the fans loved him and how the newspaper would probably be there, and maybe TV.

I really could not have cared less. I was the lead-off hitter, and my job was to get on base. If I had to take a pitch to the chest, fine. Walk, fine. Dropped third strike, no problem. So I was willing to do what I needed to do in order to take that trot to first, but I was a pretty good hitter and was looking forward to facing this guy.

Since we were visitors, we hit first. I stood on the on-deck circle and watched him warm up - his name was Lance or Rock or Stud or something of that nature. I got into the batters box and the home crowd started going nuts. He threw me heat on the first pitch, just like I thought he would.

I hit the ball so hard I didn’t feel anything on the bat. It was at the left field wall before the third baseman even knew what happened, and I had a stand up double. I stood on base and looked back to our dugout, giving my team mates a “Well – what’s was so tough about that?” look and hand gesture. We went on to win 6-1. He never had a chance.

It turns out that Lance was a lot like Barack Obama. He did well against inferior competition. Coddled by his handlers, he pitched against weak teams and earned legendary status without really having done anything of substance. I saw Lance for what he was when he was warming up – over rated – and likewise, some of us saw Barack Obama for what he was when he was running for President. Coddled, handled, not really all that smart, and entirely over rated.

We were willing to take a pitch in the chest for this country, and that made us unafraid. We went to tea parties and were called racists, and we didn’t care because we knew it was a lie, just like all the lies before. We are calling the health care reform bill what it is, in town halls and among friends, and people have finally begun to listen. Begun to question. Begun to look a little harder at the bill of goods who calls himself the President.

So as we go into the weekend, congrats to everyone on the double – but the game is far from over. Health care rationing is not yet defeated, cap and trade looms, and we will be paying off the “stimulus” for decades to come. What the brave people at the tea parties and in the town halls have done is hit a liner to left, but it is going to take the whole team to carry this thing through. In our homes, at work, in our precincts and in our states, we need to keep the pressure up. Every day, at every opportunity. Be relentless, because we have the truth on our side.

And a soft pitcher on the mound.