The game was tied at 7-7 and it was bottom of the fifth.
I was up to bat. It was my fifth attempt at the plate. My first four had all resulted in walks.
Me… earning a walk… was a piece of cake
At only 4’8”. I was the shortest person on the team (even though I was one of the oldest.)
Hence, my strike zone was almost impossible to find!
My mission, this time at the plate, was a sacrifice squeeze play.
We had a runner on third… possibly the winning run.
He was fast.
The coach knew I could get a walk… but the bases were empty-except for third.
A walk would do us no good.
I was to sacrifice bunt and run it out.
If I could sucker the other team into following me with the ball, my best friend (Ben) standing on third, would score.
The first pitch was way outside.
The second pitch was right at me. I could have taken a hit on the hip an got on base, but then the runner on third would not have scored.
I squared for the third pitch. I was going to bunt this pitch even if I had to chase it down.
I made contact.
The bunt was successful.
It was a slow roll halfway between home plate and first base.
I sprinted with all I had toward first. Just as I touched the bag, the first-baseman touched me.
The base umpire signs out!
The visitor’s stands erupt in cheers.
I heard one voice above all the others from the home stands.
“YOU FOOL!” … “HE WAS SAFE” … “KILL THE UMPIRE!”
It was the voice of my mild-mannered, always sportsmanlike mother.
Written for The Daily Post: Purple. I have been having problems finding something of meaning to create an answer for the prompts this year. So I decided to strengthen and tighten my focus. My topics for the month of March are as follows: (Monday) Teaching and Life; (Tuesday) Hobbies: Archaeology and Astronomy; (Wednesday) Fitness; (Thursday) Chores; (Friday) Writing; (Saturday) Hobbies: Music and Photography; and (Sunday) Hobbies: Gardening and Birdwatching.