Rounding Home

I remember that it was a bright sunny morning.  The rising sun held itself against a clear blue sky revealing the cloudy shimmer of a dew laden grass.  It held the same soft glow found in shared photographs of happy summer outings.  This day showed the promise and excitement of a warm new season. 

I don’t remember the uniform exactly, which we most likely made up of a hat and maybe a t-shirt bearing the name of the local appliance store, but I am sure it was worn with pride.  “On-the-job training” is probably more accurate than “game” involving young kids introduced to a new sport.  Somehow I have a rearview image of myself ready to strike a blow to an unsuspecting ball resting on a black column.  In the background I hear muffled cheers of fellow teammates swinging bench suspended legs.  I may have missed a time or two due to unfocused action, but the last attempt was quite successful.  I was surprised myself as the ball left the bat on a nice trajectory well over the in-field.  I was so taken by this scene that I probably enjoyed it longer than I should have.

“Run!” someone yelled which broke me out my hypnotic stare.  I looked up blankly, dropped the bat, and tore off to first base.  One thing I had going for me was my foot speed.  As I was rounding second I noticed that I was gaining ground on the runner ahead of me.  I’m not sure if it made sense, but I was going to keep going as I rounded third base.  Up ahead I saw a group of teammates huddled together cheering excitedly.  I was quite happy as I ran towards them in a heroic state of mind. 

Delirious dancing turned to scornful scrutiny as I ran into this small crowd.  “Touch the plate!”  Again, I re-entered that spacey state I started with after I made the hit.  Why are they upset?  Why aren’t they congratulating me?  Suddenly I fell to the ground as a chair would by kicking the legs out from under it.  Next, my body is being rolled by this group, while another chant enters my consciousness – “Touch the plate!”  At the same time I hit the plate I hear the couch running to my aid.  He helps me to my feet and dusts me off. 

Later, I recall the coach walking me out of the parking lot as I enjoyed some consoling ice cream, and he explained the importance of rounding home.