Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Sport or Fitness (02/15/07)
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TITLE: September 21, 1979 | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lillian Jacobs
02/22/07 -
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She got her bag and threw in her first base glove with the warm-up ball inside and gingerly placed her cleats in the bag as well. They were the metal ones like the big leaguers. She pulled on her windbreaker and called out to her father, “Dad, I’m ready to go.”
They walked out of the house together and her father put his arm around her shoulders. “Ready for your last game slugger?”
“Do you have to keep reminding me about that?” They both laughed. “It’s only a sport anyway, Dad, you know that. It’s no big deal.”
On the ride over to the park she was quiet. She just looked blankly out the window, hugging her gear bag.
Five years ago she had run out of the house the minute she saw her father pull up from work. “I’m an Angel, Dad!”
“I know you are honey.”
“No, you don’t get it Dad, I’m an Angel now!”
“I know you are,” he said again, looking a bit confused this time.
“No, they called. Someone dropped out and I am on the Angels, the little league team!”
“Well I’ll be,” he said. “They actually are taking girls now aren’t they”
“Yep,” she said proudly, “and I’m going to be the best one.”
She had done well that first year; made the All Star team even. There was another girl that played as well, but she was a girly girl and wore ribbons in her hair when she played. “What an embarrassment she was” the girl thought of the girly girl. She prided herself in being one of the boys and she was almost able to forget she wasn’t one when she was out on the field in her uniform. She was so happy running on the freshly mowed grass and sliding in the red dirt.
The next year she moved up to the next league. The other girl eventually quit to do girly things, but not this one. She was a Cardinal. She was a Pirate. She was a Cardinal again. She was always on the worst team in the league but that didn’t matter. She was a baseball player and that was good even when it was bad. She was sometimes made fun of, she was sometimes respected, but she was always playing.
At home she would fill the hours after school with her fantasy world of baseball. She would play catch with the wall, throwing the ball up against the bricks and fielding the grounders that it would throw back. She would hit the ball tied to a string and hung from the tree branch. She would throw fly balls to herself and run to catch them. Occasionally she was even able to drag her father out to play catch.
“Time to go”, her dad said, breaking into her thoughts. The night went quickly. She sat in the dugout and breathed in the dank smell. She sighed. “Are you going to keep playing” one of her teammates asked.
“Where would I play? There is no where else to go.” They looked out of the dugout in silence. The last batter on her team struck out. “That’s it,” she said. “That’s it”
She walked to the car with her cleats on; it didn’t matter anymore if she wore them out. She got into the car and rode home silently with her father. She drew little teardrops on the car window because she couldn’t cry them. It was just a game. It wasn’t that important. She leaned her forehead against the teardrops and looked out into the darkness. It’s just a sport after all she whispered; just a game.
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This story is really ripe with emotion, nostalgia, and potential. I think with some editing and an expanded word limit it could be awesome. It just seems like there's so much to say in the story, and I know 750 is not much.
What I like best is that you never came out and said the reason this was her last game, and that's really effective. One last thing: with the date as your title, is this autobiographical?