The Long Inning

The Long Inning

A long inning got a little longer still as the wise old coach climbed up the hill

The strong young man with the ball in his grip, looked at the coach and bit on his lip

He said, “I thought I pitched the way you’d taught me to, but now the bases are loaded, this is their number two.”

“I need some help here, what pitch would you call?  If I mess up now the ball will fly to the wall.”

Well, Coach thought a moment about this boy on this mound, he’d come a long way since the day he was found

A time way back, when skinny and scared, he’d hardly felt he belonged, he thought that nobody cared

But Coach had worked his magic, he made him believe, he convinced the kid he could have a gun in his sleeve

The boy labored hard, threw all day and all night, he’d spend hours on the field ‘till he got it right

Coach was his mentor, he listened as he spoke, and every word was like scripture mixed with a joke

The boy had improved and now stood under the light, exposed to the challenge that comes with the fight

The boy was beat up, he felt he had let his coach down, caused him some grief, and turned his smile to a frown

You see this game was not merely a social event; there were issues and meanings one could never invent

Could he trust this young man with his heart and his soul, could he trust this young man to help his team reach its goal?

With his hands on his hips, Coach stared straight in his eye, as he spoke his voice cracked like a whip on a fly

“Don’t give in now, just throw the dang ball, give it your best stuff and you’ll pin this kid to the wall!”

So the boy threw the pitch and the batter stood still, the moment like the Natural seemed almost surreal

The bat was cocked as the pitch came in, the late action movement caused by the spin

The batter adjusted in the wink on an eye, threw his hips quick and let his hands fly

But just as the ball should have been hit, it bent to the ground just one more bit, then bounced on the plate and into the mitt

The hitter was puzzled as he finished his swing, the sound of fresh air instead of a ping

The ump called, “HAAAA, batter your out!”, as the roar of the crowd like a wave came about

The game was now finished Coach did it again, he’d put a boy on the mound and willed him to win

But the story is not over; it goes deeper than this, as Coach hugged his young pitcher and gave him a kiss

The boy was his son who he’d loved every day, the boy’s only desire was to run and to play

To shine in the spotlight and prove he could win, to make his Dad proud and make his Dad grin

It can be tough for a dad who coaches his son; it’s like walking a tightrope to please everyone

But baseball is fun it’s a game that we play and its much more than that at the end of the day

It’s when a father so surly and a son with strong will end up embraced at the top of a hill