The No-Hitter

N Our Voice by Jackson Brockett

Scott Bruhn

One more.

One more.

One more.

"One more inning," my coach kept telling me.

That's all I heard. 

I wasn't even supposed to pitch the entire game. I was on a pitch count after the second inning. Each time I returned to the dugout, I assumed I was done.

But my coach kept telling me to pitch 'one more.'

After I threw eight strikeouts through six innings, I earned a shot to finish the game.

It took me a while to realize what was happening.

The scoreboard kept hinting at something special.

No hits… yet.

We were up by a lot, so I knew they weren't going to take me out.

But I couldn't let the storyline distract me.

I blocked everything out. It was just me and the catcher.

Throw, throw, throw. Pace back and forth in the dugout, then throw again. 

Our defense played well.

They covered the outfield so I could attack the zone.

One more.

One more.

One more.

I had no idea how many more I would have to pitch.

The moment

I faced four batters in the ninth inning. It was nearly impossible to ignore the no-hitter. I knew it was within reach, and I wanted nothing more than to put those guys away and celebrate. 


Fly out.

Strike out. 

One more.

I had two strikes on the last guy. My pitch was supposed to be a fastball, but right before the pitch, I thought about how I wanted to finish this game.

I chose to attack it and see what happened. 


As soon as the bat clipped air, the entire team flooded the mound. They dumped Gatorade all over me, and I blacked out for a second.

It was the best moment of my life.

Three weeks ago, I didn't make the travel roster.

Tonight, I threw the first no-hitter for Nebraska in 70 years.

Life flies at you fast sometimes.

The victor

It all still feels a bit surreal.

Three weeks before the no-hitter, I didn't travel to the Rutgers game.

I hadn't pitched well in the game before, and I felt lost.

When my coach told me I'd sit out the Rutgers game, he said I could either "be the victim or the victor." 

I knew there was only one choice. 

To everyone else, I'm probably a victor because I pitched a no-hitter, and I'm not going to lie, that was pretty cool.

But to me, the true victory was over my own mindset. I knew I could pitch, but I needed to believe I could. I trained hard those three weeks and leaned on my teammates.

The no-hitter was as much their victory as it was mine. 

But, now… well, now it's a little strange. 

If the ultimate victory for a pitcher is throwing a no-hitter, where do I go from here?

I'm continuing to lean on my coaches. Coach Childress told me, "What you did may never happen again, but just because you don't get there again, it doesn't mean you did bad." 

I'm learning to reach for the little victories, like supporting my teammates and attacking each pitch.

After all, meeting the last Husker to throw a perfect game reminded me that it's probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so I had better enjoy all the moments in between.

The past meets the present

Growing up in Nebraska, I always dreamed of playing for the team I cheered for as a kid. When I earned a spot on that mound, I never thought I would make history on it, too. 

But I wasn't the first Husker to do so.

After the celebrations wore down, I met Richard Geier, who pitched the last nine-inning no-hitter in 1954. I was grateful to listen to his stories and learn how baseball evolved since the 50s.

He talked about how the game changed and grew, but a no-hitter is a no-hitter, regardless of the era. 

Our stories will forever be connected in Nebraska baseball history.

It's a dream I never even wished for.

One more lesson

I'm never going to forget those nine innings, but I also hope people remember me for more than that game.

I hope my teammates remember me as the guy they felt comfortable going to when they needed help, just like my teammates help me.

I hope my coaches remember me as a player who faced his fair share of struggles but always respected the opportunities he got on the mound. 

Overall, I hope people remember there's more to life than baseball. My parents remind me of that whenever I'm tired after long hours of training.

At the end of each day, baseball's just a game, and I'm lucky I get to play it. 

So, whether you're pitching a no-hitter, missing the cut for the travel squad, or doing both in the same season, have fun. 

If the first inning doesn't go your way, stay hopeful.

You just might get 'one more' chance.