The Last Game
“C’mon Blue!” “Get your head in the game!”, a parent hollered from the stands. My mind was muddled from the heat, giving me the cognitive ability of a three year old. It wasn’t the first time I had heard criticism during the game, but I was hoping it would be the last. I vowed to myself that if I managed to make it through the game alive, I would never umpire again.
“I’ll give you five dollars if you umpire the plate for the second game,” I said to Nate.
He looked back at me and said with his usual cocksure attitude, “I wouldn’t umpire the plate for this second game if Hell froze over, It’s already 95 degrees outside.” We were getting ready to umpire the second game of a little league double header. My body ached …show more content…
As the players ran out onto the field dust clouds began to form. They hung in the air like a stubborn fog. This is what the dust bowl must have been like, I thought to myself. I was surprised I could even think at all. The sun, the heat, and the heckling of the players and fans had all combined into a great force against me. My arms drooped and legs grew weary. I wanted to collapse into a heap on the ground. This is the last inning, just finish the game and it will all be over, I told myself. I turned it into my own little mantra, a pep talk to finish the game. “Play Ball!”, I called out mustering up what little energy I had left. The pitcher wound up and delivered the first pitch of the seventh inning. The ball sailed in, skipped in the dirt, and bounced across the plate amidst a cloud of dust. My arm raised up and my mouth started to call the dreaded word. I tried to stop the motion, but it was too late. “Strike!”, echoed across the field. I dreaded that the word had ever crossed my lips, feeling as if I had just dropped an f-bomb in front of my grandmother. I looked up expecting to see a puppet master controlling my every move. Only there I wasn’t, I had to bear the weight of that call all on my
“C’mon Blue!” “Get your head in the game!”, a parent hollered from the stands. My mind was muddled from the heat, giving me the cognitive ability of a three year old. It wasn’t the first time I had heard criticism during the game, but I was hoping it would be the last. I vowed to myself that if I managed to make it through the game alive, I would never umpire again.
“I’ll give you five dollars if you umpire the plate for the second game,” I said to Nate.
He looked back at me and said with his usual cocksure attitude, “I wouldn’t umpire the plate for this second game if Hell froze over, It’s already 95 degrees outside.” We were getting ready to umpire the second game of a little league double header. My body ached …show more content…
As the players ran out onto the field dust clouds began to form. They hung in the air like a stubborn fog. This is what the dust bowl must have been like, I thought to myself. I was surprised I could even think at all. The sun, the heat, and the heckling of the players and fans had all combined into a great force against me. My arms drooped and legs grew weary. I wanted to collapse into a heap on the ground. This is the last inning, just finish the game and it will all be over, I told myself. I turned it into my own little mantra, a pep talk to finish the game. “Play Ball!”, I called out mustering up what little energy I had left. The pitcher wound up and delivered the first pitch of the seventh inning. The ball sailed in, skipped in the dirt, and bounced across the plate amidst a cloud of dust. My arm raised up and my mouth started to call the dreaded word. I tried to stop the motion, but it was too late. “Strike!”, echoed across the field. I dreaded that the word had ever crossed my lips, feeling as if I had just dropped an f-bomb in front of my grandmother. I looked up expecting to see a puppet master controlling my every move. Only there I wasn’t, I had to bear the weight of that call all on my