Strike Four

Slank was up next, but I was still standing at the plate with my arms crossed and the bat leaning against my thigh, staring at the ground. The basemen mugged at each other. Over on first Collins threw up an arm to get my attention. I ignored him. Finally Gonzalez the catcher jumped up, opening his mask and butting me in the back a couple times with his chest protector. I stood my ground. Slank wandered over and stood up next to me, whacking his heels with his bat and glaring at me impatiently.

All of a sudden Harcourt started warming up on the mound. Gonzalez crouched back down behind the plate and pounded a fist in his mitt. Slank turned around and dropped his bat and went back in the dugout. As the fielders got into position, somebody cackled up in the stands. The windup came. A sinker. A swing and a miss. Didn't even nick it.

The umpire burst forward with his hand in the air. "Strike four!" he announced. Peals of laughter came from the stands, the outfield, the bullpen. Gonzales stood up, pantomiming a big kick to my ass, and everybody roared even louder.

I spat, nudged my cap forward on my head, and turned to go down the dark corridor to the lockers.

I knew would never again be anything to anyone. But I had made my point.