Love and Baseball

One out to go. The Fort Smith Lions baseball team is losing two to three. Zach, a friend of my brother’s, is at bat. The crowd watches as the pitcher hurls the baseball at home plate. Strike one. Again, he lobs the ball forward, a slider. Strike two. We all hold our breath as the ball slices through the air one last time. I hear myself yell as Zach’s bat connects with the ball, propelling it to left field. Only then do I see the ball land in the glove of an opposing outfielder. Out. Game over.

            This is the end of my brother, Austin’s, baseball career. There would be no more traveling all day to watch one game and then go right back home. I sit down, trying to remember when this love, this obsession for the game began.

           

            Red dust flies up behind me as I race around the baseball diamond. It’s a game. Let’s see who can pass home the most times. We ignore our parents telling us its time to go, our brothers complaining of soreness and lack of rest. To our five year old minds, these things couldn’t matter less. All we care about is running around that field as many times as we can.

“Mama, its freezing,” I say as I stand, shaking, beside her.

“Here honey, we’ve got a big, fluffy sleeping bag for you to cover up with. You can sit here in it,” she offers, and I eagerly wrap myself in it.

Its 10:45 on a cold Friday night, and I’m stuck in Batesville, Arkansas watching my brother play baseball. All the normal nine-year-old girls spend their Fridays at sleepovers. I, on the other hand, watch baseball. And for what reason? My parents force me to.

I look over at Bryce and Peyton, throwing something back and forth. How on earth are they not about to die from this weather? Boys are so weird like that.

Everything becomes hazy as I find myself drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Searcy’s high school baseball field is extremely huge. At least, it is to a tiny nine-year-old like me. There’s nowhere to hide. It was like I was put on a stage in front of everyone. So it is impossible to hide my tear soaked face from the crowd that I’m drowning in.

Austin’s high school baseball career is over. He lost his last game to Searcy, of all teams. For the first time, I realize that I don’t want him to stop playing ball. I already know I’ll miss it too much.

Finally, the red shirt is off and Austin is catching for the Forth Smith Lions baseball team. After a year without baseball, I can finally suffer in the heat all day just to see my Bubba play.

It’s hard to believe that all those years I couldn’t stand to sit at baseball games. Now, at eleven, I love it. I always will.

“Abbie, it’s time to leave.”

I’m snapped back to reality by my mama tugging at my arm. I look up to see that the stadium is empty. Austin mutters something about losing his last game. I wish I could say, “Maybe next year,” this time, but I can’t. For the last time, at age fifteen, I walk out of the baseball stadium with my dirt covered brother.