Left Out

 

Forever I was picked last when choosing sides.  Then one Saturday, Mitch and Craig were picking as they always did, and I was just sort of hanging back, waiting once again to be playing Left Out, when Craig called my name.  I couldn’t believe it.  I wasn’t sure I had heard it right, so I hesitated before running to join my team.  Someone slapped my shoulder and said, “That’s you bud.”

I couldn’t figure why he had called me.  All I knew was I was excited to get out onto the field and give it my best.  Most of that morning was a blur.  They scored, then we scored, and somehow I was holding my own.  So far I hadn’t made any blunders.  I was thirsty and getting tired but I didn’t want this day to end.  I was having the time of my life.

And just like it was one of those Hollywood movies, we came to the last of the 9^th.  If we could get one more out on them, we’d win.  I can still hear the loud crack of the bat and see the ball come sailing in my direction.  This was it.  If I caught it, I’d be a hero.  If I fumbled it, I would never hear the end of it.  My name would never be called again.

Everything about that day has been a mystery.  I have been told I caught the ball and that we won the game, but you couldn’t prove it by me.  I never got to keep the game ball.  I don’t really know who has it at this point, but I do have a copy of the picture that made it to the front of the Sports section.  My name doesn't appear anywhere but it shows my glove, still wrapped around the ball and laying right where I dropped it.

If anyone reads this, I’d at least like to get my glove back.