Chapter Eighteen
A Close Play at Home
Jack was a bit overzealous in his efforts, and though Excalibur made contact with the ball, it was not sound contact. The bat struck the lower portion of the ball, and it was foul-tipped. It ricocheted off of Cletus’ chest protector, and bounced to the backstop.
“What was that?” Jasper asked Jebediah, baffled by the slow speed of the pitch. “A changeup?”
“No problem, Jack, good swing!” Coach called.
Jebediah’s glove ensnared the baseball as Cletus threw it back to him. He paced, slowly circling the pitcher’s mound. Finally, he returned to the white rectangle of rubber that was at the center of the mound.
He had regained some of his confidence. The count was now three balls and one strike (three and one, in baseball lingo). He really wanted to strike Jack out. He really wanted to prevent the Green Beans from winning. And he really didn’t want to get hollered at for making another mistake.
Unfortunately for Jebediah, he didn’t realize the irony of his scenario. The more pressure that was placed on him – both from himself and from his coach – the less likely it became that he would be able to deliver a flawless performance. The more time he spent thinking about his past mistakes, and how unforgivable they were, the more likely it became that he would commit more of the same.
Jebediah tapped the forward-most spikes of his shoes into the dirt, and prepared for his next pitch. He took one more deep breath, and began his windup.
Jack’s hands gripped the bat tightly, and his eyes locked onto the approaching baseball. He did not think of the last pitch, which he had swung at and missed. He did not think of how poorly he had performed in the past, when facing Jebediah. He did not think of his father’s recent imprisonment, or of the ridicule he suffered at school, or any of the other bad things that had happened in his life. He focused only on one thing… and I think you know what that one thing was, my astute reader.
Yes… you are right. That one thing that Jack was focused on, as the ball came home, and his arms prepared to swing the bat, was the next play.
In the absence of fear of failure, and with all of his being concentrated on the moment, Jack swung. Excalibur came forth, and it struck at the very belly of the ball, where the results yielded were greatest.
Ting! Surely, there was no sweeter sound to the ear of a baseball player at bat. It was the sound of solid contact made, and of the ball put into play. Jack felt the jolt of impact travel the length of the bat, and into his hands.
He had hit the ball on a line drive, down the third baseline. Lefty whooped as the ball passed by, jumping up and down with glee. The ball screamed past the reaching third baseman, and landed in the outfield. It hopped once as it hit the grass, and then it was snagged by the glove of the left fielder.
But by that time, Maria was already well on her way toward the plate. She sprinted from third base, racing home for the go-ahead run that would give her team the win.
The ball had been hit so hard, however, it had reached the outfield quickly. Now, the left fielder launched the ball toward Cletus, and it became clear that there would be a play at home.
Lefty, who had a great view of the action from his vantage point, shouted his encouragement. “Slide, Maria, slide!” he cried, as he jumped about, causing scientific instruments to fall from the pockets of his lab coat.
With a whoop of delight, Maria slid into home plate, feet first, and the Green Beans erupted with cheers of joy. A split-second after her cleats connected with the plate, the ball smacked into Cletus’ glove.
Alas, it was too late for the Summer Squashes, for the run had been scored. Before Cletus could even try to apply the tag, Maria had leaped back to her feet.
She slapped her palm against Cletus’ hand, and told him, “Good game!” before trotting off.
Cletus stood there, stupefied by his team’s collapse, and bewildered by what had just occurred. The umpire signaled that the runner was safe, and Jebediah’s shoulders slumped, his head hung in resignation.
“No!” Jasper cried in outrage. He fell to his knees, shaking his broom at the skies above. “Noooo!”
“Gee, Jasper, take it easy,” Coach recommended.
“That’s the game!” the umpire announced, as he removed his protective mask and began walking from home plate.
Jack returned from first base, where he had run after hitting the ball, and joined his teammates just outside the dugout. The Beans rallied together in celebration, hooting, and hollering, and whooping with grand aplomb.
Coach was soon tackled to the ground by his excited players, and a pig-pile ensued. He uttered “oofs!” and “gahs!” to no avail. But the sound trouncing mattered not to Coach, for they were having fun, and that was the whole point of the game, ruptured spleen or not.
“Oh, mercy! My poor, creaky back,” Coach bemoaned, as his glasses slid down his nose… but a broad smile stretched his face as he complained, revealing his true emotions.
Nibbler performed victory circles around the pig-pile, trotting in the happy way that was his, wiggling as he went. Tail wagging furiously, woofing for joy, he delivered great quantities of kisses with his propeller-action tongue.
Especially prone to these slobbery dog kisses, of course, was Coach, who could do little to defend himself from the bottom of the pig-pile.
The Green Beans, Volume 2: The Strange Genius of Lefty O'Houlihan Page 18