It was time to go, that had been clear for some time. Brian glanced at the sky, frowned slightly, and rubbed his hands together quickly. Gray clouds dropped rain onto the sparkling baseball field, where Brian stood still. He glared at the umpires, one behind home plate and another behind first, who still refused to cancel the game. “Bastards…” but only the shortstop, Ben, heard and he only nodded at the curse.
The pitcher, Brian's friend Lucas, reared back into his windup and threw another pitch; the wet ball slipped from his fingers and spun wildly into the batter's shoulder with a soft, “thump.” The batter, jogged to first through the downpour, resentful of his pain and the weather. As the catcher asked for a new ball, the umpire reached his hand out and felt the rain. Painfully oblivious to the dangerous conditions of the game, he handed the catcher a dry ball from his pocket and Lucas stepped back onto the mound. The ball slipped out of his hand nearly every pitch and he walked two batters in a row. Each of opposing base runners stood shivering in the rain; at this point, they would have rather struck out and enjoyed the comfort of the dugout. Lucas asked for another ball from the umpire and did all he could to keep it dry. He stepped back slowly, before snapping his arm and hurling the ball directly towards his catcher’s glove. The batter reacted quickly and whipped his bat to the ball. A line drive sizzled through the rain straight towards Brian’s position at second base. He easily picked the ball out of the air and tossed it to Ben who was already standing on second base. Ben caught the throw and slung it across to the diamond to first base, completing a triple play. Brian, Ben and Lucas shared high fives as they ran to the safety of their dugout.
In the dugout, their coach was already on a rampage; he had always been known as a hothead, but he did not usually lose control this early in a game. “Are we seriously playing through this shit, I can’t believe these fools.” After the other team finished their pre-inning warm-ups, Brian’s team took their turn to hit. Brian was listed at the bottom of the line-up, but he had been hitting second before his recent slump. In this situation, he laughed at the line-up change and put on a jacket on with a hood framing his toothy grin. The rain continued to fall and the opposing team’s pitcher had even more trouble than Lucas. He gave up a hit, walked two men, and hit a batter without getting an out. Even in the field, the fielders were struggling. Anytime the ball hit the ground, it became impossible to throw accurately. Although he was hitting ninth, Brian still got to bat in the inning; he stepped into the chalked box with one out and runners on second and third. The first pitched soared wildly towards his head, but Brian ducked instinctively and avoided the ball. He stepped out and adjusted his helmet and batting gloves. The soft, “tink, tink, tink” of raindrops on his helmet echoed in his ear and the water dripping from the brim of his helmet distorted the field. The second pitch caught the outside corner and was called for strike one, even though Brian could hardly see it. Through the rain’s tap dance on his helmet, Brian heard Lucas yelling at him. He sounded angry, supportive, happy, but mainly confused. Brian smiled.
He stepped back into the white batter’s box with the count tied at one-one. The pitcher eased back into his wind up and let the ball fly towards the plate. Through the waterfall in front of his eyes, Brian saw the pitching spinning towards the middle of the plate; he pushed his arms through the air and whipped his bat when it connected with the baseball. The ball flew between center field and left field while the opposing players frantically chased it down. Brian slid into second base cleanly, before there was any chance for a tag out. He jumped to his feet proudly, content with a two run double. As the pitcher prepared for his next pitch, Brian took a comfortable lead off of second base. Ben was at the plate; he was a good hitter and a fast runner, so he almost always had the responsibility of hitting lead off. The first pitch came in quick and accurate, so Ben smacked it as hard as it could. As he watched the ball fly over his head, Brian felt sure that it was a certain double and planned to score. He ran quickly towards third, making sure to round the base, but while his back was turned, the centerfielder dove, slid across the wet grass, and made the catch. He leapt to his feet and tossed the ball lazily to second, where Brian was called out. As Brian and Ben waited for their gloves to be brought by their teammates, the umpires called a meeting with all the players. The players gathered around the pitcher's mound, where they stood shivering and getting pelted by rain. Brian examined the faces of both his teammates and the opposing team; they were all drenched and looked miserable. Meanwhile, the umpires, who were wearing thick, winter jackets, spoke up.
“Hey guys, we’ve noticed the weather’s picked up a bit, but my associate and I have talked, and we've agreed we can play this one through. Sorry ‘bout the cold, but young lads like you will be just fine.”
Brian exploded, “Are you fucking shitting me? Can you even see through this goddamn rain?”
The opposing team exploded with laughter; Brian’s team snickered nervously.
The umpires looked into Brian’s eyes, “Son, there’s no cursing on this diamond. And if I get one more hint of attitude, and I’m sending you straight home. Understood?”
Brian shivered in the rain and felt his cold, soaked clothes sticking to his body; the cold sunk down to his bones. “You’re fucking crazy, bat-shit, bastards and you’ve no right to tell me how to talk.” He saluted the umpires and walked to the dugout quickly.
They yelled at him as he left, but it didn’t matter. They couldn’t say anything now.
No comments:
Post a Comment