The Game (Let’s Play Two!)

 

January 4, 1995  Wednesday

Let’s ring in the new year with a journal entry.  My family didn’t do much for the New Year.  To me, though, it is important to celebrate the past year and usher in new possibilities.  It also reminds us that more special times are yet to come.  Yesterday was my first day back to school.  But it didn’t seem that special or fun at 7:00 in the morning.  I wore some of the clothes I received for Christmas.  Gym was something I was looking forward to, because we were going to play whiffle ball.

Imagine this: Yesterday I was along the third base line, as we played in the gym.  The first hit sent the ball straight to me.  I followed its slightly curving, looping path, then I caught it and threw back to the pitcher, Wyll Yates.  The next batter slammed the ball to me.  Caught.  “I can’t believe this, ” I whispered as I whipped it back to Yates. Later, I got an over-the-shoulder catch and played third well.  The rest of the day was good.  I averaged an 85% on my semester tests.  And later Hoke and I worked more on Myst at his house, but we’re thoroughly stuck on the third island.

Today more good luck in gym.  I pitched an inning.  I know, I know, it’s only high school P.E. whiffle ball.  I get it.  But I loved it.  This is what happened:

I got the chance and Ray Browning tossed me the ball.  I walked out the “mound” near the court’s free-throw line.  No one would’ve been able to get me off that spot until all three outs were made.  My first pitch was low.  The second too far in.  Then again.  My fielders were getting restless.  Go where I want you to, ball!  Jake Pruitt popped it up, bailing me out.  Haley Hollis was next, and hit it softly to short, who threw to first.  Out.  I got the ball back and looked to see who was up next.  Emma stood at bat.  “God must love me,” went quickly through my mind.  I looked down at the perforated, plastic ball, took a breath, and rubbed it in my hands.  My pitch was perfect.  She whacked it.  I watched the white sphere sail into the outfield–the other side of the court–and knew she was safely on.  I’ll stop there, because it’s as perfect as it gets.n3.jpg

 

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