Silent Siblings: A Baseball Microstory

Dinner was painfully awkward.

Such was the case with the Johnson brothers. They had nothing in common except for baseball.

Roger was the league’s best manager. Steve was a long-time umpire.

They reluctantly met, ordered and sat silently.

A young sports reporter out with his colleagues noticed the Johnsons and asked why they weren’t speaking.

“Wait for it,” answered one of the veteran scribes.

Eventually, Roger broke the silence.

“Can’t believe you threw me out,” said Roger. “That third strike was way outside!”

“It caught the corner and you deserved what you got,” replied Steve.

The young reporter instantly understood.

ER

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The Surprise Visitor: A Baseball Microstory

The first stop after a ballgame: The washroom.

It was packed as usual. Young fraternity brothers resting their near-empty cans of beer on top of urinals.

I did what I needed to do, washed and dried my hands and prepared to exit.

Then she walked in.

“Miss,” I said, shocked and concerned. “You’re in the wrong spot.”

She just smirked, pulled her hat down and calmly walked into the only available stall. In unison, all the men stopped talking and watched in disbelief as she locked the door.

She knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t give a damn.

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Dilemma On The Mound: A Baseball Microstory

Joe was at a career crossroads.

He was facing a superstar and plagued with a dilemma.

The superstar had an irritating demeanor and wreaked havoc on Joe’s team.

Joe had two choices: Intentionally hit the superstar or try to get him out.

Hitting the superstar had consequences, but he’d gain the respect of his teammates and coaches. Pitching to the superstar – even if successful – would demote him to AAA.

“Beaning” was the old way, but being a team player was a hard temptation.

Taking a deep breath, he decided uncomfortable busses and dirty motels were better than a toxic camaraderie.

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Father and Son: A Baseball Microstory

“So this is what retirement feels like?” I asked.

“This is it,” my father replied. “What do you think?”

I gave the question some thought.

“Honestly,” I said. “I still have the urge to put on the uniform and grab my glove and bat. The feelings I had out there haven’t gone away yet.”

“Good,” my father said smiling. “It’s normal to feel that way. That urge will always exist. My advice: Don’t try to disconnect from it. It’ll drive you crazy. Just embrace it.”

Such wise words that guided me out from darkness.

I was going to be alright.

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No Confidence: A Baseball Microstory

Those fucking nerves tear my stomach apart.

What did Dr. Garcia say? Take several breaths? Remember, it’s just baseball; not life-or-death?

I’ve solicited advice. Yet every time….every damn time the manager calls on me, I want to disappear.

Use to be the best closer in baseball. Simply unstoppable. Then I made a fatal mistake: Threw one bad pitch and fucked up the World Series. Since then, my confidence has been estranged.

It is life-or-death. The stadium is full of demons and they’re all watching me.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll have a heart attack before I reach the mound.

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Real Pain: A Baseball Microstory

The room was spacious, but he felt trapped.

Such was the case when one attends a baseball game, attempts to catch a foul ball, misses, falls onto unforgiving concrete and is taken to a nearby hospital.

Stitches were needed and there were likely a few dental surgeries in his future. Calling himself a mess was generous. Worst of all, he missed the rest of the game.

And as he stared at the ceiling, contemplating his painful predicament, the doctor walked in and announced the final score.

Despite the cuts, bruises and broken teeth, news of his team’s defeat hurt more.

ER