Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Last Days
He hit the ball like he had so many others at this old stadium. The ball came off his bat true and sound. His bat was quick through the strike zone, as quick as those tired and old shoulders can allow. As quick as any swing he has taken this season.
However, this ball, unlike so many others in the past that have rung down the line, or landed in the seats, made a direct path into the glove of the first baseman. Game over, 2-1.
The man on third base would have scored easily, and while it’s doubtful that the slow-footed runner at first would’ve scored, the game would have been tied, the crowd in a frenzy, life again after a 2-0 9th inning deficit.
The player with the tired shoulders and diminishing skills did a hop of frustration, and shook his head bemoaning his luck. The catcher of the winning team jumped out from home plate, and the pitcher pumped his fist half in relief, half in celebration. The first baseman knew how close the ball was to whizzing by his glove and scattering off down the right-field line and into the corner.
In that moment, the moment of a scalding line drive that almost seemed guided into the opposing player’s glove, the realization of a floundering season came into focus. Not only for a team and a franchise that has been spoiled by success, but for an aging player, a once-great player, with tired arms and the end of a career in sight.
He hit the ball like he had so many others at this old stadium. The ball came off his bat true and sound. His bat was quick through the strike zone, as quick as those tired and old shoulders can allow. As quick as any swing he has taken this season.
However, this ball, unlike so many others in the past that have rung down the line, or landed in the seats, made a direct path into the glove of the first baseman. Game over, 2-1.
The man on third base would have scored easily, and while it’s doubtful that the slow-footed runner at first would’ve scored, the game would have been tied, the crowd in a frenzy, life again after a 2-0 9th inning deficit.
The player with the tired shoulders and diminishing skills did a hop of frustration, and shook his head bemoaning his luck. The catcher of the winning team jumped out from home plate, and the pitcher pumped his fist half in relief, half in celebration. The first baseman knew how close the ball was to whizzing by his glove and scattering off down the right-field line and into the corner.
In that moment, the moment of a scalding line drive that almost seemed guided into the opposing player’s glove, the realization of a floundering season came into focus. Not only for a team and a franchise that has been spoiled by success, but for an aging player, a once-great player, with tired arms and the end of a career in sight.
