I was going through some old folders, the same one where I found the making of Time – A Short Story (I’d love for you to check that out, Part I, Part II and Part III are here, well, there if you follow those links). The thing about this week’s story is that I never played baseball and never really wanted to but my dad?
Well, he’s another story.
To hear him and my grandparents tell it, sky was the limit for him. He played with the older kids because he intimidated his age group – and the kids he did play with…they didn’t like it either.
He was that good.
So, this is a sort of homage to my “pops.” He cannot read it, he is no longer with us.
I hope he passed knowing I loved him.
This may not be exactly his story – but it could be yours or someone you know.
Do not let your fear or disappointment keep you from being what God made you.
Misjudged – A Baseball Story
He had not expected to be the last one picked.
He was never last.
He was learning, however, that a new playground meant new rules. For him, this place was the home of bullies and kids far tougher than him, plus they all knew each other.
His was a new face.
Kids could be a mean.
Downright nasty, if it suited them.
They had been playing together for years. They had each seen the other throw and catch. They knew who could hit, who could run and who couldn’t.
But they did not know him.
They had not seen what he could do. He was the new kid in school and he was learning that that the new kid was only not picked last but after the kid that everyone knew was horrible.
You had to be the worst ball player in the world to be picked after a new kid.
In a way, he understood.
Playground politics played right into his hands
Sure, he did not know who here could play – he had a hunch. There were signals.
The way a guy carried himself was a good sign.
Sometimes a guy was too full of himself – he might be good but his confidence would lead to mistakes.
Other kids could be good but had no confidence and they would leave their potential in the dugout.
Their loss.
He would not make that mistake.
As they played, he would figure out who was who.
He would know soon enough who here was completion, who to respect and from whom he needed to steer clear.
The ace that he held was that they did not know anything about him.
They had sized him up and picked where they thought he belonged.
Last.
Today would be the last time they did that.
Today would be the last time anyone in this group made that mistake.
Any skills these guys have, none of them have ESP.
They misjudged him. They would pay.
Tomorrow they’d fight over him.
Tomorrow.
He can play ball and they would learn soon enough.
Tomorrow they would line up on the way to the field to tell him how badly they had blown it the day before and ask him where he learned to play.
Was he going to try-out when the season started in a few months?
Did he want to hang out after school?
Throw the ball around?
As they made the lineups, he kept his mouth shut.
He did not lobby to bat first or clean-up, the most coveted spots – though he could do either.
When they asked him where he played and he said, “Shortstop is my best best position but I will play wherever you need me.”
That was how he played.
He could play any position and that would lead to playing where he wanted to play.
His father had taught him humility will open more doors than arrogance.
He would show them on the field what he could do and let that speak for him.
To his surprise, they had him leading off.
He guessed they wanted to get him out of the way or see right off how he handled a bat.
He was good with that – as rubbed the dirt on his hands and the bat he survived the outfield’
Hit ‘em where they ain’t” the Babe ‘s voice rang in his head.
That is exactly what he intended to do.
He stepped into the batter’s box and took a couple practice swings.
He stared at the pitcher and waited. He had to see how this kid would throw the ball to gauge when he would take his shot.
The kid wound up and hurled the ball toward home plate.
“Strike one!”
Good, now he knew what he needed to know about the pitcher.
It was as if he had a computer read out in his head that told him every stat ever complied on this kid.
He smiled.
Dug in and waited for the next ball.
He watched the wind up, turn and…
CRACK!
THOUGHTS
So, what do you think? Love to read your thoughts or a story of when you played or chose to sit out. LEt’s talk about our fears.
Y’all keep the acorn spinnin’
Mick Holt 