Striking Out on Front Street: A Baseball Microstory

“Honestly, I’m not a huge baseball fan,” she told him. “I just go for the experience.”

He tried to respond, but his mind was blank. A bountiful vocabulary evaporated. This was a symptom of his awkwardness. Instead, he looked ahead, praying his silence won’t deny a second date.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

The pressure to say something, ANYTHING, intensified.

“I go because art and science come together on the field,” he blurted out. “It’s better than sex!”

The regret on her face was painfully obvious. He struck out before the first pitch. There wasn’t going to be a second date.

ER

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