Story #3

BALL 3

I have written about fishing and about hunting it is time to throw in a sports story. Just for fun. You know the hardest thing I have found about writing these stories is whether or not to clean up some of the language. In some cases I have, in some I haven't. This one may be tough to edit so I want to prepare you before hand.

This probably was not the biggest baseball game for the Gaylord High School Spartan's team, but for me it definitely was. It was my first start, Joe Decker, the starting catcher and senior had hurt himself in some way and Coach Chuck Peik, let me know in school that I would be starting. All day long in school all I could think about was just how in the hell was I going to catch Danny Hoefs fastball? Danny was fast, a little wild, but very fast. He was a senior as well and probably was not all that happy that a fat prick sophomore punk was getting his first start and he was going to have to be extra careful with his pitch selection and was definintely not going to let me call his pitches. This he was sure to tell me later in the day in the high school cafeteria.

Just the thing I needed to hear. Added to the pressure was the fact that we were playing Winthrop High School, the neighboring town and hated rival. Well, hated may be a bit strong. No, hated is right.

After school, I suited up in the locker room. Took the long walk down to the field. Looked over at the pool, where I had spent so many hours in the past, wishing there was water in it so I could drown myself.

The game started easily enough. The first inning, I did drop a swinging third strike and threw down to first for the out. It was the only pitch I dropped in the inning. I was pretty damn happy.

The second inning, a two out single gave Winthrop it first baserunner. First pitch the guy took off. I threw down to second low, so low that Danny had to hit his knees so I did not nail him, and only a great stop by our shortstop kept the ball from going into centerfield. I got the "Eye" from Danny. Coach Peik shouted encouragement from the dugout. The next batter hit a dribbler back to the mound for the third out. Thank God!

I came to the plate in the bottom of the second, and fanned on 3 straight pitches, the last two the first curveballs I had ever seen in a game. The third strike I know I missed by a foot. But it was a vicious swing.

Top of the third, here is where it gets interesting. After getting my gear on and as I ran out to the plate, I noticed my dad, about to sit down in the stands, 2 rows behind home plate. Now my dad did occasionally come to baseball games, t-ball, little league, and town team games, where he usually stood near the consession stand where Kenny Kirsch and the Grain Belt beer was located. This was the first time I had ever seen him at a high school game in the afternoon. There was no beer being sold. I figured that I was the draw. Crap.

Sure enough, first guy up, pop up to third. Second guy up, Fastball. Swing, foul tip straight back and down right into my crotch. Whack! Dead center on the cup. Now, the cup is a very important piece of equipment for a catcher, uncomfortable, but important so you put up with the discomfort. The cup is a great protective device but it is not a miracle worker. A fastball probably in the high 80 mph, (high school yes, but Danny Hoefs WAS fast!) Tipped or not it hurt like hell. I dropped like I was shot. I know I threw up in my mouth a little bit. I swallowed it back down though. Al Guggisberg was the batter, I knew Al from working the pea pack with him in the fields. He looked down and giggled, not loud, but I heard it. Bastard. Chuck Peik hustled out of the dugout, the home plate umpire, Leo Lick, Gaylord's Mayor AND my agriculture teacher, looked down on me rolling and groaning in the dirt around home plate all showing concern. They pushed me on my side and I rolled on my back, trying to get my wind back. That's when I heard it. "JESUS CHRIST" "GET THE HELL UP" "YOU BIG PUSSY" "WANT YOUR MOMMA?" "WALK IT OFF" "IT ONLY HURTS TIL THE PAIN GOES AWAY" "JESUS CHRIST!!!"

Leo, looked down on me, he was kneeling down on one knee and asked me, or Mr. Peik or whoever was near, "Who is that?" Through gritted teeth I whispered back, "That's my dad" We all looked towards him. Sure enough. Actually I was hoping it was Mrs. Stoll, but no, it was Roger.

Leo again looked down at me and said, "Tough crowd," "Tell me about it" I replied. I got to my knees, then my feet, shakily took a couple steps. Took a deep breath. Picked up the ball and handed it to Danny, who I was amazed had actually come off the mound to check on me. It WAS his world and I was only living in it.

The game went on, I have no Idea what happened from that pitch on. I must have made it through. I have no idea who won, or lost. I only know I survived.

I also know that Chuck Peik is one of the nicest men I have ever known. Leo Lick was a great Mayor of Gaylord for many, many years, was a veteran of the D-Day Invasion, and was very afraid of snakes. Al Guggisberg and I worked together for 2 more years in the pea fields of southern Minnesota. He was a very good tailback for the Winthrop Warriors, not good enough to beat us, but good! Danny Hoefs never became my best friend.

But my dad had ice waiting for me when I got home to the R & R. Nobody can say that he didn't care!

PS: I have no children. Still.