rekkidblogga

Swing away

Something upset her and like anyone usually would when asked "Hey, what's wrong?," she tried to act like everything was fine. But it wasn't. And when she sat down, alone at the end of the splintery dugout bench, she took off her catcher's gear slowly and deliberately, saying nothing. She looked tired of the game, tired of this night, tired of chasing balls to the backstop. I thought she was going to cry. I know that look. I've had that look - and not just as an 11-year-old.

And so I told her that I seriously don't know how she does it, banging around in the dirt with all that hot, uncomfortable gear on, softballs coming right at her, hardly able to see out of that clunky catcher's mask and she seemed to cotton to that. I wasn't being disingenuous; I don't know how the kid hung in there from April to the end of May, trying to grab errant pitches from girls who themselves were trying to master, at a tender age, the art of fast-pitch. It wasn't easy. I was whipped from just catching a few practice pitches with no gear whatsoever. Her softball career, she told me, is over as of today. In junior high (or middle school, as they call it these days) she wants to play volleyball.

"MORGAN! You're up to bat next!" She sighed, adjusted her glasses (she looks just like the "before" Anne Hathaway in "The Princess Diaries," which I think is pretty cool) and went to put on those ill-fitting batting helmets all the girls share. As she silently chose a bat, I looked her square in the eye and said, "You know what, Morgan? Just go swing the bat. Seriously. I mean, it's the next-to-last game and your only at-bat and even if you don't hit it - just... just SWING that bat, girl! I just wanna see you give it a go!" And really - I did. She'd missed her first chance at bat earlier because they'd had to switch sides under scrimmage rules. These girls are used to standing there, not swinging, taking the walks. Morgan, tall and lanky, is the kind who just stands there. She wasn't having any fun at all, she hadn't had much fun the past two months and swinging away is... well, it's fun.

She walked to the plate in the gangly way some tall kids do and stood on the right, bat poised above her shoulder. We cheered her on. "JUST SWING, MORGAN!" I heard myself yelling, even though I don't really know her.

1-2-3. Down on strikes.

All swinging. Big, swooping swings like we hadn't seen all night from any of the other girls. Like we hadn't seen all season from Morgan.

Walking back to the dugout, I high-fived her and she smiled, shyly.

"Isn't it fun to just swing away?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, finally getting it. Or at least I think she finally got it.

This game is fun.

posted by rekkidbraka @ 1:16 PM