Bottom of the final inning. Our team up by one. Two outs, tying run for the opposition stands at third, winner is ready at second.* Kicker comes to the plate, scans the outfield for the gap. Assesses his opening. Finds his opportunity to be the hero.
The first pitch moves toward the plate, slowly … slowly … a bit of a bounce lifting it from the red clay of the infield. The kicker approaches, sets his stance, then lofts the ball to near right, just short of the outfield grass and out of reach of the fielders, who are playing deep.
The ball flies high, comes down fast, appears it will drop. But, wait. There’s the first baseman, leaping into the air. Stretching his body toward the red orb; snatching it from its trajectory. Pulling it into his chest and falling, falling, man and kickball now crashing to the ground. Fast. Forceful. The air leaves his body, he doesn’t move.
He never releases the ball.
His eyes slowly open, showing his confusion. “What happened? Did we win?”
*The facts have been altered slightly for effect. What’s a good story without a tiny little bit of embellishment, right? Fact is, we were ahead by about 10 runs, but the first baseman/hero in this story was actually more than confused, he's currently spending the night in the hospital for a concussion ... the scan didn't come back clear so he's being held for observation. I figure he deserves a good story, at the least. Also, this has been modified twice, because my math/scoring abilities are, well, pretty much crap.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
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