The Dream of a Baseball
By S. (Johnny) Thonn
The first pitch hits the glove with a plop sound. The
catcher holds his glove in the same spot, about a foot or so away
from his chest, for a few seconds. In a sitting position, squatting,
he waits for the Umpire to make the call. “Ball!” the Umpire yells
out. The catcher takes the Dave out of his glove and throws him back
to the pitcher. As Dave is flying through the air from home plate to
the pitcher’s glove on the mound, he is hoping that the call just
might make the cost of his existence go up. The sound of the plop
again when Dave hits the pitcher’s glove; the pitcher quickly takes
Dave out and takes both of his hands and rubs him, to get a better
grip on him. Then the pitcher waits for what kind of pitch the
catcher is showing him to throw. While waiting, the pitcher rolls
Dave around with his thumb, middle and index fingers. As soon as he
receives a sign that he wants, he prepares to throw Dave.
A screeching rush of wind passes Dave as he flies
through the air. Plop. The glove makes sound again when he hits it.
“Steee-rike!” the umpire yells out. The fastball is just on the
inside of the plate. It’s strike three. The batter walks back to the
dugout and giving the umpire a few words along the way. Dave
remembers back to a conversation earlier with the guys in the
clubhouse before the start of the game.
All the balls hope that they’d either be a homerun ball;
a no-hitter ball, a 1000, 2000 or 3000 hit ball, a 500-homerun ball,
a grand slam homerun or a 300-strikeout ball. A foul ball means
nothing. A walk ball doesn’t mean much. It isn’t that interesting.
Any homerun above 500 is a hall of fame ball, like a 3000 hit.
Everyone wants to be one of those, especially if they’re signed.
Dave wonders which one he’s going to be. A new batter
comes up to the plate. They always take their time getting ready.
Sometimes that throws the pitcher off his routine. The batter does
his routine ritual. Almost every single one of them has one, sort of
a good luck, superstitious kind of thing. This guy plays around with
his batting glove, pulling out the Velcro strap and then putting it
back, taps the bat against his shoes each three times, runs his
fingers across the rim of his helmet and taps his shoulders once and
then back to pulling the Velcro strap again. And that is the end of
it. It takes him fifteen seconds to go through the whole routine, a
very quick routine. The pitcher and the catcher, in the meantime,
wait patiently for the batter to finish with his ritual. The batter
steps up to the plate when he’s done.
When the pitcher moves Dave to the front to throw him he
sees the batter. At that instant Dave sees that it is a famous
batter. He’s already hit over 500 homeruns. Anything after that is
going to worth a lot. He’s hoping to be one of those 500 and
something homerun. The first pitch is a slider. The batter just
stands and watches the ball hit the catcher’s glove. “Ball!” the
Umpire yells. The second pitch hits the catcher’s glove. Plop! The
catcher freezes for a few second to wait for the umpire’s call. “Steee-rike!”
The batter swings and misses. It’s a one-strike and one-ball count.
Dave is hoping that the batter will hit him out of the ballpark. The
third pitch is another ball. He is anxious with every pitch. The
next pitch the batter swings again. He hits it foul over the home
team dugout. After two strikes each, a foul ball is just a ball. The
pitcher has thrown three pitches already. The count reads one-balls
and two-strikes.
The catcher comes up to talk to the pitcher. “Give him a
curve ball. He’s expecting a fastball. You all right? Relax. You’re
doing good,” the catcher encourages the pitcher. The pitcher nods
his head. The catcher walks back to home plate, and squats down
behind it. Sweat drops from the pitcher’s face. He seems nervous.
After getting the pitching sign from the catcher, he straightens up,
takes a deep breath and delivers his curve ball.
Dave flies in the air, rotating at first. As he gets
closer to the plate he begins to curve down. Instead of a curve in
front of the plate, he hangs a bit longer and the batter swings. A
cracking-pop sound rings out. Dave soars through air past in the
infield, over the outfield and straight to the upper deck of the
stadium. The batter drops his bat on the ground and jogs to first
base as if he already knows it’s a homerun. The guy that caught the
homerun ball screams at the top of his lungs. They show his catch in
the big TV screen. Everyone around claps their hands, congratulating
him. Not many homeruns go up to the upper deck of the stadium. Dave
yells and screams with him. The TV screen in the stadium says,
“Homerun 502!” Dave is happy now. He isn’t just a regular ball like
all the others. He’s worth something. His price has gone up. “Yeah!
Yeah!” he yells while the guy has a death grip on him. “Yeah! Yeah!
Woohoo! Yeah!” He’s not going to be like the others. That’s all he
can think about. Contentment.
_____________________
I am
originally from Cambodia and have recently moved from Southern
California to South Carolina. My shorts have appeared in Pendium
Publishing House, First Cut Newsletter and my poetry has appeared in
poetry cemetery, Reflection (A Journal of Art and Poetry) and JMW
Publishing.
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