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The Last Inning

1103words

Maybe I shouldn't tell you". He said as he took another sip of whiskey.

" If you want, I'll cross my heart not to tell". I said.

We were sitting in a bar I had never been in before; the kind of place where everyone kept to themselves, and fed the jukebox for country music to help set the proper mood. It was apparent he was a regular, because the barkeep kept putting doubles of Crown Royal in front of him.

" So what happened to you?" I asked.

" Oh, I didn't make it to the Majors." He said as he took another sip." I blew out my arm on a double play, trying to put a guy out on third."

Jeff Reagan, once upon a time, was a hot item in the Minors twenty years ago. He pitched a nearly perfect game against the Columbus Clippers, and was nominated for MVP that year. then, after his injury he was dropped.

" Take a look around." He said, waving his arm at the people in the barroom." There's a story, like mine, everywhere: Young Turk Makes a Big Hit, and then loses his edge."

I sipped my beer in silence, waiting for the story. I knew he wanted to tell it.

"Okay," He said, looking me straight in the eye." I'll tell you what happened, but, if you print it I'll deny it."

I nodded, and he cast his eyes in the mirror behind the bar, reflecting our images on the dingey glass.

"Back in 1988 I was drafted by the Indianapolis Indians. My first year was a struggle to keep up with the training, and I didn't even get to pitch until the last two games of the regular season, which I barely squeaked through. During the off season I religiously practiced my pitches, and by the following spring was ready. It was during a benefit visit to the childrens hospital that I met Jeremy. He was a patient there. He'd been diagnosed with

Lymphoma cancer, and was going through Chemo-therapy. We hit it off pretty good. I asked the doctors what his chances were, and they said he had a thirty-seventy chance of beating it. That was hard to take. He was only ten years old.

I made a promise to myself that I'd visit him as often as I could, and keep him interested in my playing that season, hoping the encouragement might bolster his will to live. I know that sounds egotistical, but Jeremy idolized me. If I could inspire him in any way it just might make a difference, you see?"

The Barkeep put another glass in front of him. he paused for a sip and continued. "It's funny, you know? But, every time I had a good game Jeremy's condition improved. Call it coincidence, but, the same was true if I had a bad game. His condition would get worse. I really began to believe jeremy's life depended on my success. It really got strange when we went on a winning streak that lasted all through August. we were tops in division, and aced a place for the playoffs. and Jeremy got to come home. I visited him the day before we went into the playoffs that September. He was excited that we were doing so well, and to tell you the truth, I was too. "

I ordered another beer. I was beginning to think Reagan was a burned out jock that John Barleycorn had claimed. I've seen former athletes go down the same path: booze, drugs, and women. Maybe there wasn't a story after all. As he continued his dialog my mind began to wander.

" Are you listening to me? " He demanded with an angry look. I nodded; ashamed that I was caught wool gathering.

" I'm sorry." I quickly responded." I was thinking of that little boy."

" Yeah," He said flatly. He'd caught me." Do you want to hear the rest?" I nodded.

" Anyway, It was the third game of the playoffs, and each team had won a game, making this one the one to win. We came down to the nineth inning with the score tied 3 to 3. In the top of the nineth, they hit one out of the park, and I was called in to pitch. I got them out after two singles, and we got ready to hit some runs."

He pushed the glass away, and asked the barkeep for a cup of coffee. After he was served he continued." I was third up at bat. We had one out and one on first. The pitcher must of thought I was a creampuff, or maybe he just was tired. I know I was. I don't know why he threw that slow curve right down the middle, but I hit it and the ball went over the fence." He took a gulp of coffee, as he continued looking in the mirror. I don't remember much right after I rounded third, and the whole team was jumping up and down and cheering. They put me up on their shoulders and snake danced around the field. It was then that I saw Jeremy in the stands waving and grinning from ear to ear. I wanted to get down and go to him, but the noise and the jubilation everyone was experiencing didn't allow it to happen. I searched for him before heading for the lockerroom, but, to no avail. Jeremy was gone. That evening before the victory celebration dinner I went to Jeremy's house, and rang the bell. His father answered the door, and seeing me fell into my arms, weeping.

" Jeremy's dead." He whimpered.

I stood there in shock." That's not possible. He looked fine earlier."

He looked at me as if I had punched him in the stomach." What do you mean, earlier?"

" At the game. I saw him in the bleachers. He waved at me. I'd know that grin anywhere."

" Jeremy died at twelve noon today. He wanted to listen to the game on the radio. He went to sleep before the game even started, and died before the national anthem was played. I was with him when he went."

Reagan set the coffee cup down." I'll never understand how it happened. hell, I don't even know if I was in my right mind."

My encounter with Jeff Reagan was six years ago. I never wrote it until now, because I promised Reagan. Now that he's gone I'm telling it . As I finish this sentence I'm picturing a baseball field with Reagan and Jeremy playing catch on Victory Field. Rather fitting, don't you think?